Rubbish

	The office was cold and damp with only a desk stacked with papers and two chairs gracing the room with their feeble presence. Shanti fingered the edges of her thick manuscript, awaiting the publisher who was now ten minutes over his lunch hour. She finally noticed the brown dust bin at the side of Mr. Krout’s (the publisher’s) desk. It was filled to the brim with dirty papers of other writers that had come before. Shanti began her breathing exercise to calm her nerves. In and out, in and out. Focus, she told herself over and over until the door behind her burst open. Stopping herself from squealing, Shanti stood and turned to see the man who she was a bout to trust with her life’s work. Mr. Krout boomed, “How are ya, um, uh…” "Mrs. Parnell. Shanti Parnell,” she said softly, reaching out her hand which Mr. Krout completely ignored. The burly German, with a fierce Scottish accent slammed into his small chair at his desk. Shanti was sure it was going to collapse, but surprisingly it didn’t. “Just got back from the Dorsia. Ever been there? The service was alright but their four-course meal was too French for my taste.”He patted his enormous belly and continued, “Doesn’t fill you up, see.” Shanti was appalled at his informality for the occasion and was growing more and more disgusted with him. “No, I haven’t been there,” she mumbled and realized that he probably could afford Dorsia because of the exorbitant amount she paid to see this guy, who seemed like a con more than a revered publisher. “What cn I do for you?” Mr. Krout asked, belching the ‘you’. “I have my manuscript for you to look at,” she answered. Her confidence was growing as she saw him as someone less worthy of her respect. She knew this arrogance would not get her story published but this man was a self-righteous pig! Shanti handed the booklet to him neatly. Mr. Krout leafed through it for about a minute or less. Then he held it up to her and uttered, “Rubbish,” and threw it into the brown trashcan without another though. That was all it took, and Shanti snatched the manuscript from the trash screaming, “This is bollucks! You have no right to just, to just do that! Five hundred dollars for this! You wait! This will be a best seller and you can sit in your filthy office and cry about the money you’ve lost!