A Shit-Storm of Plastic

May 22, 2019


As Published in Tuck Magazine


You wake up in the morning, reach over
and shut off the plastic alarm clock which
sits on the bedside table, then rise and make
your way to the bathroom, where (depending
on your need) you lift or lower the plastic toilet
seat and once you’re done with your business,
shed your night clothes, pull back the plastic
shower curtain, step into the tub and plant your
feet firmly on a plastic mat so you don’t slip
and fall.  After finishing your shower, you
dry off, grab a disposable plastic razor and
shave, put on deodorant, hair gel and perhaps
a dash of cologne, all from various throwaway
plastic tubes and bottles.

Next, it’s back to the bedroom where you slip
into clean underwear and t-shirt, socks, a pair 
of slacks and a fresh white shirt, the latter two
suspended from coat hangers and covered by
clear plastic wrappers.  And last, but not least,
you put on your shoes with the aid of a plastic
shoe horn.

Once dressed, you make your way downstairs
to the kitchen, shake out your daily regimen of
vitamins and supplements from a half-dozen
outrageously oversized plastic bottles (none
of which were more than half-full when you
bought them at the health food store), grab a
plastic container of orange juice from the fridge,
pour yourself a healthy portion of juice into a
large plastic super-hero cup and wash down
the pills.  You load the largely plastic coffee
maker and, while waiting for it to perk, pull a
couple of slices of bread from a plastic wrapper
and pop them in the plastic-coated toaster.
Meanwhile, you hear the morning paper land
on the porch and you know for a certainty it’s
securely wrapped in a plastic bag to protect it
from the weather.  By the time you’ve retrieved
the paper, your toast is ready, so you put it on a
plate, slather on some Peter Pan peanut butter from
a super-size, 40 oz. plastic jar and top it off with a
few of squiggles of honey from the cute little plastic
Honey Bear container.

While eating, you turn on the television with a handy
plastic remote and watch, with growing disgust, a
series of plastic news commentators dance across the
tv’s plastic screen, as you move from channel to channel,
searching in vain for just a smidgen of good news.
After breakfast, you step into the downstairs bathroom,
brush your teeth with a plastic toothbrush, give your
hair a final once-over with a plastic comb and, finally,
you’re ready to roll.  Well, almost ready, anyway.  Because,
about this time, your wife reminds you that you must still
clean the cat’s plastic litter box.  So, gathering up the
clumpy little clods of excrement with a plastic scoop you
place them in a plastic sack, which you will dump in the
plastic trash can (already overflowing with assorted plastic
waste) at the end of the drive as you leave for work.
Holy crap, you haven’t even made it out the back door
and already you’re drowning in plastic!  A virtual
shit-storm of the stuff, which will molder in some
desolate landfill long past not only your own lifetime,
but that of your children and your children’s children,
as well, or float about in the ocean, where it may well be
swallowed by some hapless sea creature, who fatally 
mistakes it for a bit of sustenance.

Sobering, huh? And the remainder of an equally plastic-laden
day still lies out there waiting on you!



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