Main Site     Communication    Art  project: "Making things"    Recycling stations   Recycled songs   Recycling around Europe   Clean-up activity   The life of an aluminium can

American Academy of Limassol, Cypros

Chapter 4:      ( chapter 1   chapter 2    chapter 3   chapter 4)

By Maria Vertkina (Class 2)

 The limousine came closer and closer.  As it came level with the garbage truck, the can and the milk carton jumped.  For a second, the can could feel and hear nothing.  He was just falling through space.  As long as the milk carton was by his side though he was not afraid.

 Finally, they fell through the limousine open sun-roof and onto grey carpet covering the limousine floor.  Four men in dark suits were busily discussing something.  So busily, in fact, that they didn’t even notice the can and the milk carton.

 “You incompetent prat!” yelled one man.  “You missed the guy by a mile!”

 “What?” protested another,  “Race pushed my arm, and I shot in the wrong direction”.

 “Enough” groaned the first man, who seemed to be the boss.  “If that dog goes snooping around and finds out about our little affair, we’re done for.”

 “What I don’t get, “ said a fat man with a heavy Italian accent, “is what caused the alarm at the factory.  Rodriguez’s men knew where the infra-red sensors were, so what caused it?”

 “Whatever it was” snarled the boss, “it broke our deal with the Russians.  Kovalev was going to pay good money for us delivering the cocaine on time.”

 The can couldn’t listen any more.  He felt sick.  It meant that at night the drug lords occupied the factory and filled cans like himself with drugs.  Drugs that were to ruin the lives of millions of youngsters who laid their hands on them.

 By the conversation that followed, it turned out that Dieter had arrested Rodriguez Sancutty, one of the greatest drug barons in history.  The boss in the car was his brother Sanchos, who was his partner in crime.

 The only person who could prove his brothers’ guilt was Dieter, so he had to be put out of the way.  Both attempts to kill him though had failed.  Furthermore, the can found out that the next attempt would be by the courthouse.  The mafia controlled the police and would pay a young rookie officer to do the job and prove it an accident.

 When they got to Courthouse Square about an hour before the trial, the blond guy, Race, got out of the car and came up to the young policeman whose cap was too big and kept slopping over his eyes.  Race talked to him for a while, handed him an envelope with some money and set back for the limo.  The can used the moment of Race opening the door to push the milk carton and himself out.  The limo drove off barely avoiding squashing them there by the sidewalk.

 The can thought carefully.  Something had to be done.  He decided to study the policeman carefully and weigh out the possibilities.  He studied him head to toe.  Floppy brown hair.  Green eyes.  Skinny.  The can’s eye was caught by the policeman’s socks, which wrote “Save the Whales” in green letters.  Something clicked in the can’s mind.  He watched on.  The policeman walked up to a green mini with daisies painted all over.  He opened the door and pulled out a “Greenpeace” journal and a “Vegan Delight” which he unwrapped and promptly began to eat.  A plan had formed in the can’s mind.

 It was about 11 when Dieter got to the courthouse.  The young policeman watched him intensely.  His hand moved to the service revolver holstered at his waist.  It was then that the milk carton threw herself onto his black shoes at the same time noticing that they were made from something other than leather.  He looked down.  Being a “Greenpeace” activist he instinctively bent down to pick up the “rubbish”, causing his cap to fall over his eyes again.  The can seized the opportunity to roll towards Dieter.

 What followed happened so quickly that the can barely had time to notice everything. 

 With the sound of screeching car tyres the black limo came careering around the corner.  At this the young policeman suddenly pulled out his gun and shot in the direction of Dieter who had just noticed the can and bent down to pick it up.  The bullet whizzed over his head.  In one quick motion he rolled to one side, taking cover behind a red jeep, just as a second shot was fired.  A large banging sound was heard that shook Courthouse Square it was the sound of the bullet bursting one of the limo’s front tyres causing it to veer of course and to smash into a lamp-post. 

 It appeared the can was wrong.  The young policeman, who he later realized must be Dieter’s son, was an undercover agent in the narcotics division of the FBI. 

 Within a minute the square was teeming with police who approached the limousine with caution.  The criminals, dizzy from the impact and bearing only minor cuts, were apprehended and put under police custody.

 The can and the milk carton watched on proud, of themselves and the role they played in stopping these drug lords.  It didn’t matter to them that they were the unknown heroes.  What mattered was that justice had been served.

 In all the commotion the can and the milk carton failed to notice the council worker in charge of maintenance of Courthouse Square approach them from behind.  Dressed in fluorescent orange and whistling a merry tune he bent down to pick them up.