Well, maybe not that dramatic, but you get the idea.
At least stories are still coming from the Asylum…
I clean up the messes. Plenty of these folks in here keep themselves right tidy. They wants to keep their secrets and they know as well as I do that the things a person leaves behind reveals a lot. But even the neat-as-a-pin freaks leave traces of themselves, and it’s my job to collect all that stuff and burn it.
The burning is part of my job. Sometimes I catches the nurses rummaging through the trash as if they expect to find gold or jewels or glass slippers. These inmates may be crazy, I says, but they ain’t going to drop their fancies in the garbage or behind the sofa.
Though they’s a couple of my coworkers who’re looking for scraps of hair or drips of blood. They think I don’t know, but of course I know. You don’t handle people’s garbage for twenty some years and not learn a trick or two. And I know that some of these tokens are worth money. Folks’ll pay good for money from an insane princess. Whoa, the prices they’ll pay.
I can buy my own damn glass slippers. You ever seen the real glass slippers? The ones everyone’s always on about? They’re scratched and got blood stains inside. Blood stains are hard to get out no matter how hard I try.
I mean, no matter how hard anyone tries. From what I hear.