The Dump - Part Four

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When Andrew woke up the next morning, he began to think about all the other young men who spent their days with Sickslug in the garbage dump. They had no idea what they were missing.   

He was a little afraid that everyone would laugh at him if he told them that the King had adopted him, but he decided to go to the village anyway.  Who knows, there might be someone who would believe him and want to come to the King’s palace as well.

So Andrew made his way to the village.  He planned to get there early in the morning before most of the people he knew had headed toward the dump.  But something strange happened.   

Actually, it wasn’t so strange, because the Prince had already warned him about it. Andrew didn’t remember the warning, though.  All on their own, Andrew’s feet took him down the old, familiar path to the garbage dump.  Before he knew it, there Andrew was, standing next to the stinking pile of rubbish.

“What am I doing here?” Andrew thought in horror.  “I didn’t plan to come here.  I don’t even want to be here.  Not after eating at the King’s table and talking with Him.”  Just about the time he was ready to turn away and leave, along came Sickslug with a wicked sneer on his face.

“Oh, don’t you look nice, all dressed up in those fancy clothes,” he sneered sarcastically.  “You probably think you are too good for all of us at the dump now.  Well, I have news for you.  Nothing is any different today than it was yesterday.  You think you are free of my chain.  Well, think again.”

Sickslug pulled a magazine out of his coat pocket and opened it to a particularly disturbing picture, the kind that Andrew used to like to look at. “Come on,” he said.  “You know you want to look at this.  You always liked this stuff. Come on, you know you want it.”

“No,” Andrew cried out, cowering like a puppy that expected to be kicked. “No, I don’t want that. Not anymore. Please, please just leave me alone.”

Despite Andrew’s protests, Sickslug waved the picture in front of his face. “Come on, Andrew. Just a peek won’t hurt. Just one little look and you’ll remember how much you enjoyed this.” The oily voice was convincing. Surely one little look wouldn’t be that bad. Old habits die hard, and Andrew’s old habits were not dead yet.

Slowly, excruciatingly, Andrew’s eyes began to turn toward the image on the page. He wasn’t strong enough to resist this temptation. Sickslug smirked, certain he had won.

(To be continued ...)

Part One     Part Two     Part Three              Part Five