At the hellacious hour of 9:00am on Saturday, Ukiah picked me up and took me to the “sale of the century” (Ukiah speak for tube amps, old turntables, records, etc.) in the East Bay. He’s a pro (like good ol’ mom) and knows all the ins and outs of garage sailing. To prepare he advised that we drink huge cans of Diet Rockstar and suggested various emergency scenarios to act out in order to get good deals (which he called “Playhouse 99”??? I might have gotten the number part wrong here.)…for instance, if he wasn’t getting a good deal on something, he would signal me and I could act out the roll of a mean girlfriend/wife who says she won’t allow that thing in the house. This would elicit both pity and panic from the most-likely male seller, who would then drop the price. I’m used to such scenarios as my parents have pimped me out on the flea markets of Europe in a similar fashion: the starving kid who only has 200 Forints in her pocket but needs this porcelain figure, the flirtatious teenage tourist who must have that Majolica plate…
After the sale I took the opportunity to get that autographed AXE album over to Jason P’s. I’m sure that it’s priceless and I’ve been meaning to give it to him for ages now. But why stop at one gift? Nothing goes better with an autographed AXE album than a framed shag rug painting of a marlin. And since everyone loves surprises, I convinced Ukiah to leave it on Jason’s doorstep, ring the door bell, and run, while I smoked his cigar in the running pick-up truck. I think the truck actually left skid marks on the street.
Approximately 15 minutes later my cell phone rang – it was Jason and the gig was up. But oddly enough, the Jason household was convinced the shag marlin was from a different anonymous donor.
Gifts of the Mogwai:
