“Ian? Ian, are you there?”
I received no response. It had been roughly twenty minutes since he left me here, according to a clock hanging on the opposite wall I am currently suspended on. Was he taking his sweet time finding my hat?!
“Argh, useless human. IAN!”
I sighed. As much as I appreciate his help, there’s no way I can fully trust him until I have my hat back where it belongs. I can’t even help him with my tracking spell because I don’t know where that dumpster is! I...I feel so useless right now.
No, I can’t be useless! I need to do something to help Ian get my hat so our business is concluded. Maybe if I can move this trash can somehow...oh, DUH! Levitation!
Charging magic in my horn, I focused it on the trash can, and sure enough, it became lighter and easier to control. YES! The Great and Powerful Trixie can move herself around without needing to be carried!
I floated up and off the hook and moved toward the door, angling the can to get a better look at the handle. If I can get this open, I can look around and hopefully find Ian. I understand his need for secrecy, but so long as no one sees my face (the trash can is still invisible), I should be fine.
Coating the door handle with my aura, I twisted it until I heard a loud ‘CLICK’ as the latch was released. I was about to pull on the door when someone garbed in white opened the door. I didn’t have time to hide my face as I sheepishly grinned at the human.
Their response was to scream and back away, hitting some large mechanical box behind him. I don’t know what that thing did, but it stopped the human from falling as they scrambled down the steps, screaming out “MONSTER” as they did so. How dare they?! Trixie is no monster!
Hmph, so much for being subtle now. The sooner I find Ian with my hat in tow, the sooner I can get out of here so I don’t cause any more trouble for him.
---
“Mike, any luck yet?” I asked.
“Nope, still digging. Sometimes I can’t believe the stuff people toss in here.” He held up a case of DVD’s discarded in one of the bags he cut open with a box cutter. “Sheesh, who would throw away a perfectly good DVD set of Doctor Who?”
“Mike!”
He gave me a skeptical look. “What? It’s not like we’re any closer to finding the hat, Ian. Heck, at this point I’m beginning to wonder if it’s even in here, so I might as well look for other stuff that’s worthwhile.”
I sighed before pleading, “Can you please focus? I really just want to get this hat and leave, okay?”
“I know, I know. I’m trying to focus here. Look, there’s just four bags left! Your hat’s gotta be in one of those!”
Grunting, I tore into one of the four remaining bags, and almost puked. Someone discarded some spoiled meat in here and a fly had found a way inside. The stench of decay and maggots filled my nose as I turned my head away, struggling to breathe.
“Whoa, dude, are you ok--OH GOD that is horrible!” Mike came over to check on me after my display. That was a mistake he regretted immediately.
Both of us walked over the garbage to the opposite corner of the dumpster, gasping for fresh (well, fresher) air.
I coughed. “You know, I’m surprised you’re not used to smells like this by now.”
“I’ve built up a tolerance, but sometimes I still get surprises like THAT. Those you can’t really prepare for,” he said.
I just huffed in response before I found another bag and pulled it out of the trash. Mike slashed at it with the box cutter.
The smile on my face couldn’t be wider as I spotted that familiar blue fabric. I reached in without hesitation and plucked the hat from within.
“YES! Friggin finally!” I cheered.
Mike patted me on the back. “Congrats, man. Now let’s get out of-”
A static-filled voice cut him off as his radio buzzed to life.
“MIKE! We have a problem in here!” A distraught-sounding worker spoke through the radio, a slight static background noise present while they talked.
“10-4. What’s the problem?” he asked.
“This place is HAUNTED! There’s a flying trash can moving around!”
“Uh, come again? Did you say 'haunted'?”
I groaned loud enough for him to hear, and the look he gave me was both inquisitive and irritated.
“...Ian, you wouldn’t happen to know about this, would you?”
I didn't have time for this. “Can this explanation wait? I have a feeling that I should get in there and fix this problem before it becomes an international incident.”
“International?”
“Explain later!” I shouted as I rushed past him towards the facility, hat in hand.
Mike shrugged and let out a deep sigh. “This is going to be more trouble than it’s worth. He’s going to owe me one-no, ten cases of Miller after this.”
I didn’t hear what he muttered, but I didn’t have time to think on it. My mental faculties were too busy wondering what crazy stunt Trixie is pulling in there. I knew she couldn’t do anything since I didn’t see anything different about the hat when I found it, but someone HAD to have seen her for that sort of response to come through Mike’s radio. After all, there aren’t any other flying trash cans...wait, flying?
As I opened the door, I looked around for Trixie, not even noticing the fact that the facility was completely empty (it wasn’t hard to deduce that she was responsible for that). She wasn’t hard to find, as that invisibility spell seemed to wear off as she floated along the conveyor belt (or she gave up keeping it up, having been spotted and all), her aura holding her up steadily as she looked through the garbage along the way. I’m not sure why she’s looking through it; she heard Mike say that the trash was in a dumpster out back, right?
“Maybe she got scared and thought the garbage was dumped onto the belt by now. Mike and I did take a long time…” I reasoned to myself before shaking my head.
“TRIXIE!” I shouted, walking towards her, holding up her hat triumphantly.
Her eyes snapped up from the garbage below her as my voice reached her swiveling ears. For a moment I saw a brief smile flash across her face; I got her attention.
...a little too well, for I snapped her out of her magic concentration as she fell onto the conveyor belt, which was now moving at a faster pace than I remembered as it guided her to the incinerator. It took me a moment to realize she wasn’t floating back up, which meant that impact likely knocked her out.
“Ian!” Mike yelled as he came up next to me. “What’s going on?”
“Mike, I need to get Trixie off the conveyor belt, NOW!”
“Who’s Trixie?”
“MIKE!”
“Okay okay! I’ll get up to the console and slow it down! Don’t you dare climb on the conveyor belt until I do that, alright?”
I ignored him and climbed on top of the conveyor belt, running down it to try and reach Trixie. Mike yelled something about me being an idiot, but I didn’t care. If Trixie burned in that incinerator after all this trouble I went through to get her hat…
I didn’t think further past that point. I just ran. Stumbling over the garbage as I fought against the speed of the conveyor belt, I slowly made my way forward. The crunch of cardboard, glass, and plastic made a cacophony of noise beneath my feet as I neared the downed trash can.
I’m not sure how long I was running before I tripped. It wasn’t my fault, though. The conveyor belt slowed down a little and threw me off-balance as I crashed into the garbage below (Mike must have reached the console and slowed it down). I was thankful for the suit Mike had given me; this would’ve taken weeks to wash out of my regular clothing.
I looked up at Mike for a moment in frustration, then looked behind me. I didn’t put a lot of distance between myself and the incinerator. Was the conveyor belt really moving that fast? Or was I just too slow?
I stumbled to my feet and shook my head before I saw the trash can again. Now that the belt was moving slower, I could leisurely walk over to her and grab her, whisking her out of danger like some modern garbage hero.
I turned the can up so the opening faced me, and Trixie’s unconscious face was inside. The fall must have rattled her head around plenty, so I was careful when exiting off the conveyor belt so I didn’t cause any more damage.
Mike had come down the steps once I obtained the trash can. I didn’t make any attempt to hide Trixie, given what she’s done to the fine people of this facility already.
“Whoa, so that’s...oh god, that Trixie?” Mike asked upon closer inspection of the pony.
I tilted my head to the side. “You know her?”
“Er, sort of. I remembered seeing her in a show my daughter and son watch every Saturday morning.”
I raised an eyebrow in slight disbelief. “...you watch the show too, don’t you? You wouldn’t casually remember her so well if you didn’t.”
He shrugged. “...maybe. It’s for the kids.”
“Uh-huh, sure.” I sighed. “Anyway, Trixie is safe, but I think she needs a bit of rest.”
“Great! So, where’s the hat?” he asked.
Time slowed to a crawl as I realized I didn’t have the hat with me. I must have dropped it when I tripped, but didn’t think about it because all I was trying to do was save Trixie and--OH NO!
I turned my head to the incinerator, and for a brief moment I saw the blue fabric of the rim of the hat before it tumbled inside, causing a gout of fire to spurt out from the machine.