I was playing with my junk out in the garage when I thought, "Hey! I can sell this for money!" It was hard lugging it around for people to see, and it was long and tiring, but there it was, laid bare in the morning sun. Many people came. Then more came. Some came two or three times, looking for that special connection. Some simply went to get some money. I had bottled water on standby because after sampling my wares, many people were exhausted and sweating -- and I aim to please. Sometimes I got a nickel, but as I got more comfortable haggling, I bumped my price up to a dollar.
One older gentleman, stout and bearded, lowered his glasses to the tip of his nose and smacked his lips. "Nice balls".
"Thanks" I replied, presenting three bright red balls about the size of plums.
"What's with the straps?" He queried.
"These are gags, sir."
Silence. The man eyed me for a full minute. Then he grunted and backed away. A matronly woman ushered her kids to the car. I was losing them -- our romp was coming to an end. The man was still backing up down the sidewalk, so I gave chase, "You don't understand sir!" And I showed him, "These go around your mouth! Sir! Don't run!"
I guess he did understand what I was saying after all. Oh well, some people are just plain odd. But, I guess next time my mother asks for help selling gramma's stuff, I'll politely refuse.
(I miss gramma's gnomes -- I think I'll untie one of them.)
1 comment:
Your wit comes through in this story. It made me giggle all the way through starting with the reference to your junk in the first line.
How is it possible that more people have not read these great stories? I'm thinking you should publish a book of short stories to get you started.
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