It was a night for unusual occurrences. I bid on a piece, something I told
myself I'd never do. It was a set of four matched Li'l Orphan Annie Ovaltine
glasses, like Grandma's had been, and seeing them in the auctioneer's hand took
me right back to her kitchen, and endless afternoons passed with my colouring
books and weird old-lady hard candies and Liberace albums playing in the living
room.
"Ten," I said, opening the bidding.
"I got ten, ten,ten, I got ten, who'll say twenty, who'll say twenty, twenty for
the four."
Craphound waved his bidding card, and I jumped as if I'd been stung.
"I got twenty from the space cowboy, I got twenty, sir will you say thirty?"
I waved my card.
"That's thirty to you sir."
"Forty," Craphound said.
"Fifty," I said even before the auctioneer could point back to me. An old pro,
he settled back and let us do the work.
"One hundred," Craphound said.
"One fifty," I said.
The room was perfectly silent. I thought about my overextended MasterCard, and
wondered if Scott/Billy would give me a loan.
"Two hundred," Craphound said.
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