I admire myself for how stupid I can be. Friends shake their head and admire me as well.
Then there are the Nurse Ratched’s of the world who just want to give me a lobotomy and send me to jail.
I am so stupid, I think the Nurse Ratched’s of the world are hot and sometimes I just want to nurture them and help them bust out of their cocoons… I am a stupid, stupid man.
So,not to long ago when I ran into my latest Nurse Ratchet at an Estate Sale, I once again became stupid.
Now, I don’t need to be around a Nurse Ratchet to become stupid. I have a twinkle of my eye, like a Randle McMurphy all on my own, and I am proud of it for now.
I guess when my stupidity kills me, I’ll hang my head low, but for now, I’ll just brag to you about how I like to entertain the troops.
So, I went to an Estate Sale and some dealers know me and some don’t. They have all heard of me because I am a character.
Now, what makes me a character? What does calling someone a character mean?
It means that I say and do things that other people feel uncomfortable saying and doing. Somehow, I just do it without giving a shit. That is what people mean when they call other people a character or at least when they call me a character
Let me cut to the chase here. This story is taking too long and I just want to tell it.
So, the woman in charge of the Estate Sale is a Nurse Ratchet type. She’s busting my balls because I’m having fun with the other quirky dealers. I’m handing out cards for my store and laughing a lot.
Now, the house was a bust. There wasn’t much for us to buy. I don’t usually buy at estate sales, I buy entire estates, but sometimes, I’ll go look at another sale, just to figure out the angle of the person running the Estate. Are they asking fair prices? Are they fucking over the person who owns the estate? Are they hiding the good stuff and keeping it for themselves? Are they making money off the clean out? Are they selling cheap to friend dealers and ripping off the customer that way? Are they doing all of the above? I’m looking at their angle. It’s what I do.
Nurse Ratched comes over to me and says,”You can’t take business away from me by handing out your cards. Either buy stuff or leave.”
I looked around at the place and I got that twinkle in my eye.
“How much for all the bar stuff?”
“That includes all the booze?”
“Sure, but the bottles are open.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna make cocktails for all my friends here.”
“No, your not.”
“Nobody else is going to give you two hundred for the bar stuff… So, if you want the money, let me buy all friends drinks here. And if we are going to have drinks, how much for all the stereo stuff and records?
I paid her the three hundred and went over to my new old dilapidated stereo and looked at my newly acquired dusty seventies records with coke lines going through a bunch of the vinyl. I turned on the receiver and threw on Bad Company.
“Can’t Get Enough,” came on and I started making cocktails for all the dealers and Collectors who came out to Jersey to this dump to buy stuff and were ending up buying bad stuff because we all waited for an hour to get into a house and we all felt we needed to buy something to justify waking up at five in the morning to get there first.
The cocktails and music flowed. As a middle aged man at these Estate Sales, I am the kid. People loosened up after forty five minutes of drinking with Paul Rodgers singing.
The Costume Jewelry lady was making out with the toy train guy on the couch. The Paper guy was coming out of the closet to the Rug guy.
Nurse Ratched just let me do what I wanted. After all, I gave her the most money in this dump and I mixed her a nice stiff Martini.
I went into the kitchen and started to look for something to cook for lunch for everybody. There was about twenty of us. I found a bunch of cans of tuna and an old onion. There were boxes of Macaroni and cheese from a decade ago.
I created a tuna casserole using what I had.
It was pretty good with the booze and the music. As far as I know, none of the Senior Citizens I partied with got sick.
Sure the toy train guy died a couple of weeks later, but he was gonna die anyway, I think. Apparently, he spent his last weeks fucking the Costume Jewelry lady. It was a sweet romance, that I like to think I started.
I like helping people get hooked up.
Now, about the bar and records… I made my money back and then some. The bar stuff and the records sucked but one of the bottles of booze was actually a stash box that had five hundred dollars in it.
Whenever, I do something stupid, I always get rewarded.
Nurse Ratched calls me all the time to let me know when her next Estate Sale in Jersey is going to be. I think she wants me to make her another stiff Martini.