“Well I at least have some refuge bins outside — for the whole neighborhood, really.” He turns. “But I’m in a *pickle* about what to do with the rest of this building, Gotham.”
“Couple more bong hits and we might get it,” suggests the psychedelic reggae monk to fellow pothead Stumpy, pointing in what he thinks is the direction of their apartment above Bob White’s Record Store. Such cheap rent! He can afford both.
“We’ll have to do something about this, Trash and Recycling. Can you, I don’t know, *combine* the two? At least get rid of one of ’em?”
“On it,” they both say in unison, already planning ahead.
“Umm, I’m confused.”