One Thousand is Probably not an Exaggeration

     Every morning I make myself breakfast: One banana, a bowl of whole-grain cheerios in soy milk, a glass of orange juice, and a scrambled egg with salt, black pepper and basil, folded into a wedge shape and soft in the middle. It's pretty good, if I may say so myself. In the process of preparing and consuming my breakfast, I produce one eggshell and one banana peel every morning, both of which I throw in the short, uncovered trash can that resides in our kitchen. I hadn't changed the trash in over a week when I came home one evening to find several things had changed:

1) The trash had been taken out.
2) The bag of oranges that I keep on the counter had disappeared.
3) In its place, there was one trash bag and a sticky note, reading: "A gift from a non-trash-producing roommate. One thousand fruit flies cry out and are suddenly silenced."

     I suspect my next-door roommate Work, who is nerdy enough to pull a reference like that. In any case, I responded with a sticky note of my own, stuck on the counter next to the original, which read: "Did you take my oranges? If so, I admit I deserved to have my oranges stolen and I hope you enjoy them. --Trashman."

     Guess I should take my trash out more regularly. Or buy more oranges.