Author: Marc Morisseau
Bibbit woke up in the garbage chute again. That's what usually happened after a night of binge drinking at one of the station's many small time bars. He would roll in, consume any leftover alcohol from the glass of a patron foolish enough to leave a drink unattended, get caught by the owner, and usually ended up in the nearest garbage chute.
That was okay with Bibbit, because when he wasn't drinking, he was eating garbage. It was his job, and he took it seriously: wander through the many garbage chutes and access tubes in the station, eat the garbage, and scrub the area clean. His internal furnace engine broke down the junk into fine particles, which he stored in his hindquarter section. So when he literally had to take a dump, he would roll over to one of the external ports, stick his butt into the exit, and let loose. The stuff just dissipated into space.
"Bibbit, Mr. Bibbit, please report to Central Command." It was Floyd, the station's computer. Bibbit flayed his arms and legs, trying to get on top of the garbage pile. He reached out to the control panel, inserted one of his fingers, and gave it a twist. The garbage chute recognized him, and opened the door, where Bibbit was unceremoniously tossed into the hallway.
"Well, better get rolling" hummed Bibbit, and he headed toward Command.
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