Brought to you by the word 'scavengers'
'Scavengers...' The broomman wrinkled his nose in disgust. His truck person shrugged over the half rolled down window. "Scavengers are admirable. Strong little bitches. Waste not, want not, my ma used to say." It was the first sign. Pulling an extra pole off of the back of the truck, he foisted the two larger bones out of the path of the truck. The sun was almost down, the moon was out - the perfect time of day for a scavenger hunt. He was ready, he had his rubber gloves and the matching outfit which moulded itself to him perfectly. Every night was a scavenger hunt for him, when he left his broom and maintenance job behind and became 'Scavenger Man', ridding the world of unwanted bones and other large objects in the roadway. Once he found a moped with the owner still on it, frozen solid. Put it on the mantle. He'd had to bolt it to the wall with a specially jigged two by four rigging, but it made the room, he had to admit. Next to the medicine man's feather bonnet, it gleamed in the halogen light, of his partially subterranean lair. With a squeaky wave, he motioned his sidekick, TruckPerson, to his side. She was such a kick, sometimes he was beside himself with laughter. But they made quite the team. Scavenger Man & Truck Person [dan-dan-daaaah!] Together at last! Their individual solo careers hadn't gone too well, but after teaming up to defeat the Bat Guano Kid, they'd been inseparable. He'd shown her around at the Clean the Streets Fundraiser, and got snapped for a photo on the Society Page. Jaws flapped. Flapped, they had, like the wings of the vulture that Scavenger Man was certain would be his totem if white people had them. He had a stuffed one, which was still pretty good.
