On the scrapheap

No one batted an eyelid when the sofa and armchairs were dumped on the patch of waste ground at the top of the street. No one was that bothered in this run down neighbourhood, after all everyone did it.
The overgrown grassy area was already littered with broken cupboards, wardrobes and the like. No one complained. The local council would eventually take away the discarded items leaving the way clear for a fresh batch of fly tipping.

Billy, Pete and Sam warmed themselves by the fire. It had taken a while to get going but was now burning nicely. The crackling and spitting was a comfort to the three men as the orange glow lit up their grimy faces.
“Nice and cosy here now mate” said Pete
“Certainly is” Billy agreed as he unscrewed the cap from the plastic bottle of cider he had been nursing.
His uncut fingernails were underpinned with dirt complementing his grubby hands and a perfect match to those of his two compatriots.
He took a long swig from his bottle.
“Terrible thing this war going on” he said wiping drops of spilled cider from his straggly beard.
“Don't waste it” laughed Sam.
“That's the thing about a bit of face fur, nothing goes to waste” he replied licking the back of his hand.
“ That why you grew it?” asked Pete
“To tell the truth it was 'cause I couldn't be bothered to shave” came Billy's answer. This was half true. The other half of the truth was that the morning shakes made him mistrust himself with anything sharp that close to his face.
Pete and Sam roared with laughter.
“Keeps a fella warm in winter” said Sam stroking his own matted chin.
“You're right about this war Billy Boy, terrible thing” said Pete “Those lads should all get medals”
“They probably will for what good that'll do. Medals are no good when you've lost everything else” replied Billy. He stared into the flames and took another gulp of cider.
“ True enough” said Sam. “ I remember my mate Lenny, trod on a land mine, lost a leg. Medals did him no good.” The other men nodded silently as Sam continued, “It could easily have been me, easily. I was right behind him” Tears began to fill his already red rimmed eyes. “ I didn't even like the bloke that much, bit of a gobshite you know, barrack room lawyer, thought he knew it all. Still, it's a terrible thing to happen to a man.
Billy handed him the cider bottle and he nodded in thanks.
“Still got your medals?” Billy asked him
“Nah, sold 'em a couple of years back, got sixty quid”
Pete cracked open another can and leaned back on the sofa.
“Nice three piece you've got here Billy Boy” he said.
“Heh heh, just had it delivered this morning” chuckled Billy “All that's missing is the crystal chandelier”
Pete clutched his can and looked upwards.
“Who needs one when you've got that” he pointed at the star encrusted inky blue sky.

“Good morning, Refuse Department, How can I help you” the cheery receptionist answered the first call of the day.

“ You can help by getting rid of all that rubbish at the top of Waterloo Street” an angry voice replied.
“Ah, yes madam we are aware that there is a problem in that area and a collection is scheduled for........”
“Get it moved now, today. It's a disgrace, tramps making fires and sitting drinking all night, they'd really made themselves at home. They even had a sofa.”

And so the makeshift living room was removed later that day. Over the next week more junk gradually appeared. A selection of old car tyres, a dented supermarket trolley, some old window frames an empty gas bottle, …..................... No one complained.