Jeff stayed in the bucket, not being able to move anyway, feeling how other bottles were put on top of him, also waiting for their fate. Jeff didn't really think about what was to come. He was still very happy that he was rescued from the gutter and would't become crushed garbage on the road. He stayed there for over an hour, until another guy came in and brought the large bucket to the back of the club and outside. Jeff enjoyed the slow rocking and the alcohol had given him a nice, smooth feeling. He felt ow the bucket was placed on the ground and he heard the sound of bottles clanging. Then, if he could get goosebumps, he would. If his eyes could grow big and he could gasp, he would. That sound, that first sound, of a bottle sliding through a short tube, followed by silence and then, a crashing sound of glass on glass. If Jeff still had a heart it would stop right there. "Oh hell no, not a glass dumpster. The Chronivac will never be able to restore me if I break."
Meanwhile more bottles were lifted and then the hand he had feared so much grabbed him. It all went so fast. He felt himself being placed into a hole, the hand let go, his body slided down and then.... nothing.....until he landed on a pile of bottles. He could feel glass crush underneath him. He wanted to cry, but then, he realized he was in one piece. He wasn't broken. There was still hope.
Unfortunatelly for Jeff the next few bottles were heavy whiskey bottles. The first didn't harm him, but the second came down hard. Jeffs body cracked upen and shattered, flying through the air. This was the end, he though