Garage Sale

Hmmmm. The blender, the socket set – even the cycle – had gone easily. Within minutes of the garage sale opening in fact. Not only that, but they went for the marked prices. His karma must be improving, he thought. The cycle was pretty old and was tyre-less but they still bought it. He smiled. Yes, things were improving.

Mind you, he was a salesman by trade and born with all the ethics of a natural conman, so this sort of thing came easily to him. He would, his friends said, sell his grandmother for a quid. Unfair, he thought, as he looked back at her, sitting in her favourite wicker chair, surveying the proceedings with the little black beads that people called eyes. Unfair. He’d want at least a hundred quid for her. He smiled again and winked knowingly at her. She ignored him – just sat in her chair unmoved by emotion or proceedings.

He could have sold her too. Almost everyone who came to the garage sale asked “How much for the old lady?” At first he thought it was funny and joined in the joke. “A grand” he’d said and they all laughed. But it got rather tedious after a while, and he’d got to responding “I don’t sell my relatives” in as jocular manner as he could but through gritted teeth.

Yes it had been a good morning. Most of the stuff had sold and for reasonable prices. The banana-shaped mounted fish went for a fiver. He’d found that in a dust bin and stuffed it himself. Same with the owl. Accidentally flew into his window one night. True, it was only stunned, but with a little encouragement it died and he’d stuffed it. He could have been a taxidermist, he reflected, it seemed to come naturally to him. Like selling stuff.

There was a plant-stand in the shape of a roman slave, a horsehair brush, which he was certain had plastic bristles and an old book entitled ‘She deserved it’ with a half naked woman on the cover. He’d sold the lot for twenty bucks. Twenty bucks!

Still, things had calmed a bit now. There was half a garage worth of stuff left. He needed to sell that too or he wouldn’t get the money he wanted. Correction the money he needed. But he wasn’t too worried yet. Normally people came in waves, this was just a lull.

His grandmother didn’t bat an eyelid when the next wave did arrive – and boy did they arrive. Five cars pulled up together, he reckoned there was about fifteen of them, half kids. Kids were great – they’d con their parents into buying the biggest load of old crap. A couple were making faces at his grandmother, but she just sat, ashen faced. They gave up and pointed to a concrete skull. “How much mister?” asked an older boy.

The skull was priced – everything was priced. “Ten dollars” he said. Then, as he usually did, he said “I mean fifteen”. He was rewarded immediately with the response he hoped for.

“It says ten on the label,” protested the boy. “You can’t sell it for more than the label it’s against the law.” He fished in his pocket and took out a battered ten dollar bill and offered it up. “You have to take it – it’s the law” said the boy with the authority of someone who’s aim in life was to be a conman.

“Ok, I guess you’re right – but you’re doing me out of five dollars” he said and took the tenner. Better than the five he was prepared to be beaten down to. He put on his hurt and dismayed look.

“How much the old lady?” asked a young girl and they all fell about laughing. Except him.

“Not for sale. Don’t sell my relatives” he said, wishing he’d never brought the sullen old witch. It was tempting fate bringing her along to this.

An older man – a father presumably – was watching his entrepreneurettes and he picked up the stuffed monkey. “No?” he said. “Isn’t this one of your relatives?” he asked, being a fan of the late Oscar Wilde. “It says ten bucks on this one too – you can’t charge more” he added quickly.

Another sale. It all mounted up. Ten here, five there, pretty soon he’d have enough to buy the thing he needed. He looked at his grandmother. She did not look back, but just sat – slightly humped – in her old wicker chair. “Soon have enough” he said to her, but she didn’t answer. Well, she wouldn’t would she.

By noon he’d sold all that was going to sell and had diligently taken down all the signs. His grandmother sat unmoved, surveying the scene with unseeing eyes. He wondered why he bothered. He was doing all this for her – that’s why he needed the money. To buy that thing that she needed. She could not, after all, sit in that chair forever. It’d been going on far too long as it was. He threw the remaining odds and ends that he’d failed to sell into a cardboard box. They’d do for next time. He’d need to do it all again later anyway. He’d made just enough, if his calculations were correct, for the purchase he needed. Well, for the purchase that She needed. But next time he’d have to raise more money – that time for her headstone.

He walked over to her and crouched in front of her. “Well Granny, I’ve got enough. I can go pay for it tomorrow” he said.

The slap on his face resounded like a thunderclap. “I told you,” she snarled “I don’t WANT a BLEEDIN’ Wheelchair!” His face stung and tears came into his eyes, but he did not get angry. He just straightened up, put his arms under her and, with some effort, lifted her up. She clung onto him desperately.

“Maybe not,” he said “but I do. I can’t keep carrying you about now your legs have gone. And I’m not putting you in a home” he added. And he carried her indoors for her lunch.

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Tags:

bargain, cheap, con, conman, garage, grand, grandmother, granny, man, mother, sale, stuffed, taxidermist, taxidermy and ttnov