All you garbage-tossers, cigarette-butt-flickers, and other assorted litterers, beware: your comeuppance is at hand.
No, not in the guise of some measly, $1,000 ticket that is rarely bestowed. This, instead, is justice.
Justice for the Earth. Justice for the flora and the fauna. Justice for everyone who has had to clean up your mess. At last, their advocate has arrived.
You do not know my name or my face, and you do not see me until it is too late. I come upon you when you least expect it and I dash away into the night – or day, depending on what time it is.
My methods are simple: anything you throw that lands far outside of what would be considered a proper receptacle will be thrown back at you.
If you toss a finished cigarette out the window of your moving car, I will stop wherever I am, pick up that butt in the middle of traffic at great risk to my own life and limb, and follow you until I am able to throw that butt right back at you. I do avoid your face, but a little ding on the arm never hurt anybody. You can rest assured that it is your own cigarette, with the addition of the pebbles or grass where it had landed when you cast it away to what you thought was the void.
Do not rail at me with faux righteous anger. You are the one who treats the world as your garbage can – you are the agent of your own destruction. Next time, get an ashtray.
For those who toss fast food remains out of moving vehicles at midnight, be on guard: those same greasy trays and acidic soda cups will reappear in the very same setting from which they were ejected. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but sometime within the month you sons-of-loose-women will be tracked down and your leavings returned in your cars’ passenger seats.
For the rest of you illegitimate offspring and female dogs who walk along sidewalks and throw things into bushes; who drive to the lake and dump sordid items; and yes, even those who see the world as their urinal, know that everything you discard will be returned to you. Yes, I said everything, even if that requires me learning how to scuba dive or take a class on forensic techniques in gathering bodily fluids. The number of hypodermic needles I have come across would make any phlebotomist weep with fear. Know that even your homes and front yards are not safe from my “Return to Sender” deliveries. Know that I have had a 100% success rate in locating my targets.
Know, again, that you are the instrument of your own undoing. Here are a garbage can and a recycling bin – make them your friends.
The World will thank you, and my work will be done.