The Glass Man

Garbage bag after garbage bag of splintered glass was being crushed by a bulldozer. It was all the property of Dolores Odgkenelli, who saved every bit of glass she had ever broken (and she broke a lot of glass.) Garbage bags were stacked to the ceilings in her house and basement, filling the rooms with broken glass. And she had died, and now it was all being disposed of.

The broken glass popped and burst under the grind of the bulldozer. “100 more bags, sir,” said the Johnny Come-Lately to the bulldozerer. He was halfway finished.
He was always bulldozin' glass, though. He just happened to know these came from a certain home, for he and Dolores had been next-d00r neighbors. They had been great friends, and he was just figuring out why she never invited him in the house for some action.

“I'll show you that I don't care, Dolores!” he shouted, leaping from his bulldozer into the glass. He was immediately lacerated by the pile of broken glass. After panicking initially, he decided that the cuts weren't so bad. Just some painful slivers, mostly, and he lay very still in the glass.
“Oh my God! Hendry!” shouted Johnny.

Henry wept and kissed a shard of glass. “She was my everything!” he sobbed.

“No, wait! Don't!” shouted Johnny Too-Late as a fork lift dumped another bag of glass all over Henry's body.

“Yes!” cried out Henry. “More, more, more! More, Dolores, Mordaloris, more!”

When the very last bag of glass had been piled on, there was a great rumble, and a garbage creature made of glass that resembled MacDonald's Grimmace rose out of the pile of refuse. “Yes, I am Mordaloris,” it said, “King of the Great Landfill. I came as quick as I could.”

He jumped off his horse with a first aid kit, and immediately began bandaging Henry up.

“So the legends are true of a great beast that haunts these acreages,” spat Henry.

“Oh, quiet, you,” said Mordaloris, fixing a bandage across Henry's cut and bleeding mouth. Mordaloris then carried Henry on his back to safety.

Henry spent the rest of his life looking out his window some nights at Dolores' house, which used to keep the light on in her bedroom, but was now pitch black. He never did find anyone who appealed to him quite as much as Dolores Odgkenelli.
The last time he looked through his window to hers was the night he died. He walked from the window to his bedroom, and there was Dolores, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Remember me like this,” she said, and disappeared.

Henry didn't have to remember her that long, for later that night he died, and they were reunited in Heaven. They found out they both loved horses and the number 5. But that old devil, the Devil, was at his work in Heaven, too. Sometimes winged demons were seen flying down the city blocks of the great City of God, crashing into things and carrying people off and dropping them.

The End