Tortured, out-of-order trash can tries to help with the meaning of life
Wildcat: My name's Nathan and you're on the spot. Mr. Trash Can, why oh why, are you "out of order"?
(Trash Can looks on, a tortured soul and emaciated spirit)
Wildcat: Your emptiness fills me and leaves me with wanting. Why is my name Nathan? Have I ever transgressed or trespassed the boundaries of recycling and wanton trash-throwing?
(Trash Can appears to be listening, absorbing a universal language - like a sage)
Wildcat: Dear Trash Can, speak if you would. I long for some voice to fill the emptiness of my soul.
(... Trash Can seems to prefer absorbing to talking)
Wildcat: You understand what it's like to be dumped on - to be filled with trash - to be filled with gunk from the aftertastes of everyone's appetites. Let's both be discreet, Mr. Trash Can: We both know there is more to you than what appears on the outside.
Wildcat: Excuse the interruption, Mr. Trash Can. What is this sign of white over your mouth? Is it to silence you?
(Silence)
Wildcat: All right, Trash Can. Do not lose spirit, for hope will come. And one day, you'll be transformed into a nice statue or something. But if not, I'll always remember you as the trash can that made me think. The trash can that mirrored myself.