A huge industrial dumpster.
Plumes of toxic black smoke roil out of it into the sky over tongues of orange flame.
Nubile models with dead sooty eyes feed the flames with pitchforks from atop piles of designer goods. Gucci. Louis Vuitton. Hermes. Handbags. Clothes. Shoes. All speared and thrown to the flames.
At one end of the dumpster, a simple steel staircase leads up to its blackened lip.
Stair access is blocked by a pair of doormen behind velvet ropes on brass stands. Into the distance, a line of hopeful wait for their chance to pay the entrance fee.
Oh, look! Another group is being let through! The velvet rope is pulled aside and the eager winners clamber up the stairs and plunge into the dumpster, sending a burst of sparks skyward along with their screams.
Once that dumpster is filled, a truck backs up to it and hauls it off.
Not to worry, though, another fresh one, pre-filled with diesel soaked luxury goods is slid into place almost immediately.
Plenty of room for everyone willing to pay the fee.
Muse Vassal 