As the anti-grunge movement gains importance, a significant problem has arisen about what to do with the billions of tons of toxic grunge that will pollute landfills and would otherwise eventually need to be shipped to safe disposal sites as people gain intelligence and shed their grunge in favor of decent clothes. Important scientists have long recognized the need to find a way to neutralize this dangerous waste, and many have been secretly working in underground research facilities seeking an answer while hoping not to be noticed by the forces promoting grunge.
Many converts to the anti-grunge cause have found to their dismay that their garbage collectors simply will not accept grunge in regular collections and require a special appointment, and many municipalities will not accept grunge at all. "I don't want that stuff in my landfill under any circumstances," remarked Joe Langdon, superintendent of the Department of Sanitation in Fillmore Township, Kentucky. He continued, "I had a pair of jeans in here once, and it completely contaminated every drinking well in the town. Never again." After that incident, Langdon was nearly defeated for reelection, winning by a single vote. "It's a good thing I voted for myself that year," he quipped.
In many states, anyone wishing to dispose of grunge must be licensed and bonded, and a special permit is required. "It's a dirty little secret," explained Sue Tabums, director of environmental conservation for Harrison County, Wisconsin. "We require a six-month training program and a $50,000 bond for anyone wishing to enter the grunge disposal business. If people only realized how dangerous grunge is, they would never have anything to do with it."
However, a "lone wolf" whose name is completely unknown to most observers has quietly obtained a patent for a revolutionary new device that promises to end this problem once and for all. Mrs. Edna Millar of Arlington, Virginia was granted patent 9,000,632,112 in October of 1997 for what she has dubbed "The Grunge Killer." "It's a nice little machine," she modestly tells interviewers, "and I might want to make a few dollars on it."
Far more impressive than that, the "Killer" has the capability to convert any type of grunge into useful materials such as carpet padding simply by feeding bundles of grunge into one end and selecting an appropriate setting on the control panel. It can take flimsy nightgowns and transform them into mosquito netting or nylon screening. It takes denim jeans and produces the strongest seatbelts known to mankind. It even takes miniskirts and turns them into diapers.
What really has grunge purveyors reeling, though, is a revolutionary new technique that involves a special chemical that is inserted into a reservoir in the unit. By simply pointing the unit at a piece of grunge, activating a new type of ultraviolet light, and spraying the otherwise harmless chemical at the offending article of clothing, the operator of the unit can convert any piece of grunge into a proper article of dress clothing. Mrs. Millar would not discuss this for publication, but sources close to her claim that she tested the unit on a small Nebraska town of 600 people with nearly a 100% success rate. The townspeople were not amused, but the demonstration helped win her patent.
The sources further claim that Mrs. Millar has already survived two assassination attempts, and denim and sneaker manufacturers are prime suspects. "She knows she's in danger," says one source, "but it doesn't bother her. She's on a mission and won't be stopped." Another source said, "After she turned my sweatsuit into a dress shirt and slacks, I figured I'd better not mess with her any more." He is now the Chicago area distributor for the unit, although it is not yet available for purchase. "I want to be on the ground floor," he added.
In fact, some doubt has arisen as to whether the unit will actually be sold. Mrs. Millar is already 70, well past the age for eligibility to Social Security, and has stated that she does not need the money that sales would generate. She has built a network of distributors such as the Chicago man, but says that she may still decide to give the unit away for free if someone would underwrite the manufacturing costs. One deal was close to being closed when the benefactor suddenly disappeared; he has not been seen since. Experts insist that Mrs. Millar is even now talking to another possible donor, but she claims that no talks are currently underway-- which may be a ruse to protect the principals from harm.
Regardless of whether the unit is sold for profit or given away free, the "Grunge Killer" has fascinating potential in a sea of grunge. At the very least, this device will be the greatest invention of the second millennium, and it has the potential to reshape society for many centuries to come.