Chickens in the Basement

I love to write and I love to laugh. When I write, I get to the point quick. My stories would fit on the back of a postcard. They usually make me chuckle. And you know what they say, "It's all about me!"

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Witchy Woman

Last night, I went to my buddy's auction. Janet is a wonderful auctioneer. When she is in pursuit of a bid, she sings the numbers. She and her husband, Ronnie, take turns auctioning. Between items, they bicker and play which earned them the title of MY FAVORITE AUCTION. Last night was Janet's 49th birthday. Woohoo! Happy Birthday!

These auctions are always fun, but last night, the witch in me came out. From time to time, a woman, we'll call her Number Seven, shows up at Janet's Auctions and bids on nearly everything in the building. Number Seven must have unlimited funds because I have only managed to outbid her once...well twice, now.

Last night, I went to the auction because Janet had a beautiful pile of vintage pillowcases that I wanted to make into dresses for little girls. I planned to bid up to $22 for these. There were a couple of McCoy planters, a homemade ladder and a vanity that I wouldn't mind having either. A couple of the planters came up first. Ronnie was on his countdown and Number Seven was the only one bidding. I think she had a $2 bid for a beautiful pink McCoy planter. This just made me mad. I would pay up to $18 for that. My Number Forty went into the air and Number Seven wound up paying $19.

When my desired box of pillowcases came up for bid, I was ready. I started the bidding at $5. To my disgust, I saw Number Seven nod her head. I bid $7. She raised her hand. I bid $9. She raised her hand and held it there. This jumped all over me! My broom appeared out of no where and the witch was on a rampage! My $22 bid came and went. I just couldn't put my hand down. $30 came and went. At $35, I was ready to swat Number Seven with that broom I was flying around on. When the bidding reached $40, Tony's broom (from all the way back in Wake Forest) smacked me in the back of my head, and I reluctantly put my hand down.

I pouted and fumed. Before long, other bidders were commiserating with me. They had missed out on a bed or a table or a china cabinet or some glassware. We discussed syphoning the gas out of her car before the next auction or sending her a bogus flier with the wrong address or paying a guy to stand outside and tell her the house is already full and the Fire Marshall won't let anyone else in.

Since there was nothing else I could do, I set out to run Number Seven up on any item I even remotely liked (just in case she stopped bidding). This worked well until an old metal swing set came up. The bidding started at $25. Number Seven bid $30. Nobody else raised their hand. My Number Forty shot up. Number Seven sat still. What the heck? Come on! Somebody put your hand in the air! "Sold for $35 to Number Forty!" Well, shit! What am I going to do with that big-ass swing? And how in the heck am I going to get it home?

This swing and a box of wood shelves shaped like bows are the only two things I got. The box slipped right into the front seat. The swing was a different story. I backed my truck up to the loading dock and drug the swing set across the room to the big overhead door. Then, I stood there staring at the two trying to figure out how to introduce them. A man came over and asked if I needed help. Never one to turn down muscle, I said yes. I jumped in the back of my truck and he undid the swing from the bars and passed it to me. Next came the bars. Since they wouldn't lay down or come apart, all I could do was push one end up to the cab of the truck, grab a couple of ratchet straps and bungee cords and tie a bunch of huge knots.

I vowed not to take any turns too quick so it wouldn't tip out sideways and not to go over 60 miles per hour in case the knots came loose. If the swing set were to blow out, I would not stop to retrieve it! I said a prayer for any cars traveling behind me, called home to tell them I was on the way and hit the road. An hour later, I pulled into my driveway with all parts still attached to the truck. Tony and Rick came out to see my treasure. Both wanted to know what I planned to do with that ugly swing.

Well....Tune in tomorrow for the rest of the story!

1 comment:

Mary said...

I want to go to an auction with you Anna! I could accost that woman at the door, hog tie her and hide her in someone else's pickup truck....while you find me some FRENCH, must be FRENCH, treasures. I want hemp grain sacks, linen bed sheets (to use for drapes), and a Bergere chair to upholster in hemp with nailhead trim. Can we find such things in rural NC? Don't you know anyone out there in the country who imported French treasures for their plantation? If not we must head to Paris or Provence soon!!!