Mondo Bloggo, Part 2
The rain-sloshed sale itself attracted some hard core junk shoppers.
One guy, apparently in the latter stages of diabetes, had full blown elephantiasis in both legs. His ankles were the size of my thighs, and I was amazed the poor guy could even walk, much less get shoes on.
What really hurt was that his rapidly deteriorating limbs gave off the distinct odor of rotting flesh.
Wanda and I discovered mutually weak stomachs when we compared notes.
She went on to tell me about a stinky bed she rented at a B&B in Scotland.
She said, "Oh, eet was smell so horrrrible, I had to geet my theengs and snick off een the meedle of the night."
Austin, being the Texas epicenter of old hippies and overly educated bums, provided us several of both.
One old dude showed up in his tank top and running shorts, with long whiteish yellow hair and the same color beard. Think Professor Dumbledor in jogging attire.
He was a close talker who hung around far too long for the 25 cent thing he purchased. He kinda fancied my sister, much to the glee of her lover and me.
Another young guy showed up with Hidalgo, Mexico plates on his car. His English was poor, but his earnestness made me curious. Turns out he was in his final semester of a Ph.D program at UT in chemical engineering. The guy was totally brilliant and determined to return to Mexico with his Ph.D to try to help makes things better. I gave him a bunch of free knickknacks for being so cool.
After about eight hours of rainy sales, my big brother finally showed up with his slacker son and stepson in tow.
Rather than saying, "You girls go rest, we'll handle the next few hours," he strode in and said, "What's the total?"
Then he demanded to count the cashbox.
Yes, my brother let his sisters and lover-in-law work till 1 am the night before, then arise at 5:30 a.m., tagging and shlepping and shmoozing, only to arrive two hours before the sale ended to demand a tote.
So I said to him, "What are you, Pimp Daddy, working your bitches all night and day and showing up to see what we made? You gotta be kidding."
After we exchanged a few unpleasantries, he got huffy, took the boys and left.
A proper pimp daddy would have brought us rain-drenched ho's a few Cokes, or at least some decent drugs, for chrissakes.
Luckily, Wanda consoled me after he left:
"Wass that jour brother who chust zoom off in hees truck?"
"Yes, the lazy bastard."
"Why he come so late and go home so soon?"
"Because he has a testosterone-based sense of entitlement."
"Ohhh, jes, I know of that. Men can be so cracee. Ju poor theengs, working hard for all day. Ju needed to have a break. Jour poor hair has been wet all day from the rains."
I was instantly soothed. And my brother Billy, well, he can bite me.