We have been waiting months to hold a yard sale and our waiting has finally paid off. Dr. BJ’s neighborhood hosted a community yard sale with over 100 homes participating. He and I had a few random items to sale and, luckily, The Leaver decided to join us with her wares.
As we were setting our items on the lawn, The Leaver advised us she “brought guns to sale.” “Guns?” Dr. BJ asked in shock. “Yeah, they’re good ones too,” she replied. “I think people have to pass background checks to buy a gun,” I advised. “They’re just air guns. Does anyone know how to use them?” None of us did know how to use them, so we relied on the buyers to demonstrate. Unfortunately, the first group of interested buyers didn’t know how to use them and couldn’t figure it out. They were pointing the guns up toward the sky, playing with the clip, all to no avail. Fortunately, Dr. BJ got some good pictures. A few minutes later, while the prospective buyers were still trying to figure it out, another person pulled up in a large truck. “I bet he’ll know how to use a gun,” I told Dr. BJ and The Leaver and then asked him, “Sir, do you know how to use a gun?” Probably not the best greeting at a West side yard sale, but he did, and they ended up buying it.
“One gun down. All the good stuff is gone, we may as well call it a day,” The Leaver declared. “What do you mean all the good stuff is gone? Don’t you have two more guns?” I asked. “Yes, but I’ve sold three things, so, you know, she replied. She had definitely been working the customers. So much so that her shorts had sagged further than intended. “This yard sale is off the hook,” I told Dr. BJ. “Selling guns and crack. Unbelievable.” “Crack kills,” Dr. BJ stated. “Am I showing crack?” The Leaver asked. “Oh, yes,” Dr. BJ replied while snapping a picture and laughing. “I can’t help it. I have an extra long crack. No, really, I do.”
Several of Dr. BJ’s neighbors stopped by and one of them, in a cute little tie-dye skirt, knelt down to talk to us while we were relaxing in the Adirondack chairs. She works at a local nursery and was telling us about plants, shrubs and the like. After she left, Dr. BJ looked at me and said, “Did you see that? I saw more of my neighbor than I wanted to see.” “Yes, I saw it. Talk about shrubs. Crotch shots are also wasted on the wrong people,” I replied.
The Leaver had been keeping an eye on our clothing racks (we each had one), because she was worried that people hadn’t noticed them. Lucky for me, there was a group of five or so people looking at mine. “Everybody’s looking at my rack,” I told The Leaver. “I’ve been looking at your rack all day,” Dr. BJ quipped. A few seconds later, QuQueen giggled and said, “I was just being a tie-dye neighbor. My skirt just went up.” “I didn’t see. Show me,” The Leaver told her.” “I’m not doing it again,” QuQueen said and then, without hesitating or further prodding, said “Oh, OK.”
Between guns, shrubs, crack and rack, I’ve no doubt we were the best yard sale on the block.