"And for the last time - they are not 'being saved and becoming closer to mother nature's ever-beating heart', they're joining a damned bio-cult and inhaling enough hive spores to put a entire town six feet under! That and that alone is why we revoked their trader's license for the farmer's market and no, it will not be given back, now good day to you!" he said through clenched teeth as he not-so-gently slammed the receiver down before turning to face the concerned pensioner who'd only wanted a quick word.
"Sorry about the delay there but I'm not having another bio-cult try and takeover the town - it's just not worth the detox and clean-up. You were here about bins, if I remember rightly?" which he did, one of the better side effects from the last bio-cult's brief but memorable reign over the island.
"Y-yes, if it's not too much trouble." she managed to get out, a little distracted and somewhat nervous at the thought of yet another takeover. "It's just that a swarm of not-raccoons have been getting into mine and 'trading' rubbish for human remains. Our Tony's tried everything to stop them - even spoke to their leader - but they like the current exchange so I was hoping you'd have a few of those special bins leftover from last season's hermit crab infestation?"
He excused himself to check the town hall's storage chambers, trying to forget the younger hermits who methodically disassembled his late uncle's remains to fortify their already grotesque shells. The sight of that familiar face tanned and stretched over harshly compacted and bizarrely shaped detritus was not an easy thing to forget but the buggers left soon after they brought in the new bins.
He swore every resident had been given one but knowing the oldies they'd either put it away and forgotten where it was or donated it to the last bio-cult. The dear old lady waiting for him had been one of their more prominent high priestesses of the great and powerful something-or-other. They tended to blur into one big mishmash of 'earthly, carnivorous, space deity' after the first four or five.
She was gone by the time he got back with a couple of bins in hand, leaving behind the overwhelming scent of rotting leaves and a small package labelled 'Mother Hagrah's Blessing' which he removed with a litter-picker and carefully placed it under the dark tree just behind the hall. Better to leave it for the dark ones to throw into the unending void than risk a bio hazard in the workplace - far less paperwork!
With that he washed his hands and set about printing his notes for the upcoming meeting.
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