Soup

By: TVAS

There was this old man that lived by the train tracks in this very small, semi-dilapidated house. He lived with his dog and no one else. He favored cooking his nightly meals outside in a tin coffee can over an open fire, usually a soup of some kind which he always shared with his dog since he never had enough to buy dog food and besides, dogs always prefer what humans eat- or so they say.

By day the old man roamed the area around the tracks and surrounding desolate streets collecting whatever scraps of metal he could find. Once he had exhausted himself and the day’s finds he’d trek on over to the Metal Scrap Company LTD, weighed the day’s catch, collected whatever the going rate was for the day and headed home to his small house and expecting dog. He rather liked the solitude, the quiet around the tracks- those particular tracks were no longer the veins of commerce, several lines still used it occasionally but for the most part the tracks were quiet, cold and unused.

His life went on collecting scraps, selling scraps and making his nightly soup- he thought of nothing but the moment. Until one night while sitting by the fire waiting for his soup to come to a full boil he saw a car speeding towards him, the car barely staying in control while bumping onto the tracks and off the tracks, trying desperately to stay ahead of the pursuing group of police cars. The old man barely got out of the way before getting killed. While the car flew by his side, the occupants threw out a bulky package. The cops must not have noticed, the old man thought; they never stopped and never came back his way. They weren’t very bright, the cops in St. Louis, or maybe they were just too busy with bigger and better deals than what a scrap metal collector could ever imagine.

The package contained several kittens and lots of money, so much money that at first he was too scared to think about what to do with it. He finally settled on a few things he’d like to do; buy the latest Corvette- the 1963 he’d glimpsed while scrounging for metal scraps- and the Metal Scrap Company LTD. He felt he’d spent his life haunted by the place, living for the place, eating because of the place- what better way to spend the money than to buy the Metal Scrap Company LTD?

So he bought the company and made some needed changes; made the payment for scraps fair market value for the ones bringing in the scraps, made it compliant with the latest safety regulations, made the buying and selling of bulk metal a smoother process, and cleaned up staff and warehouse for the safety of all employees. He promoted a few employees that took pride in their work and who respected those that worked for them as well as the metal scroungers.

Once he finished his realigning of the Metal Scrap Company, LTD he decided he’d spend time with his long time friend the dog and the newly added kittens. He’d take the kittens and the dog for short rides here and there on his 1963 Corvette. Eventually his old friend the dog died of old age, reluctantly the dog finally settled by the old man’s feet one night and let out its last breath. The old man was beyond sad, for he had shared his everything and nothing with his friend the dog. He collected some of the best metal scraps from the warehouse and commissioned a magnificent statue of his friend the dog and delivered it himself to his old haunts by the railroad tracks where he’d boiled so many tins of soup to feed himself and the old dog. He placed the statue next to the old train tracks with a small plaque that read, “Dog- dearest old friend.” He then fetched the kittens from the backseat of his 1963 Corvette and placed them all in the big pot he’d brought with him and proceeded to have him the last pot of soup he’d ever have- assorted kitten soup du jour.