The lock clicks and the lid opens. Some birds fly away, while others peck at the gum. Kirby is frozen, half sunken in junk, his glasses falling off and his mouth open in shock. To his right are a stack of tuna cans, a foul scent emanating from the remnants of fish inside. Flies buzz and mice scurry around. A Niffler is rooting through the trash, looking for shiny things. It looks back at the group and gestures with its claws to a pizza box in the far left corner, chattering rapidly.