We knew we were in for something out-of-the-ordinary when Hick came tromping halfway down the basement steps. It was after 9:30. He's usually asleep by then, but since it was Friday, that meant Auction Night. Normally, Hick puts his treasures on the kitchen table until Saturday, when he distributes them amongst his various themed sheds. And sometimes, he does not bother to tell us what he bought, but instead leaves those treasures in his car, and drives over in the Gator on Saturday to spirit them away to the BARn.
"I was at the auction, and they had this big jug with pennies in it."
No fine how-do-you-do or nothin' from Hick. Obviously his news was more important than our show. Couldn't wait until commercial. Or the next day. Good thing we had recorded it to zap commercials as we watched. I put it on pause. Thinking, perhaps, that Hick had scored a fortune and was going to trade in pennies at a car dealership for a new vehicle.
"Nobody else was bidding, and I got it for a dollar! It must have at least two dollars worth of pennies in it!"
Yeah. That's not the amazing part.
"And it's got three dead mice."
Yep. That's my Hick. He paid a dollar for a jug with two dollars worth of pennies, and THREE DEAD MICE!
"No wonder nobody else bid on it. What are you going to do with it?"
"Well, I wanted the container. But I'll put those pennies in my big plastic Coke bottle with my other pennies."
"You're NOT bringing those mice pennies into this house!"
"Oh, Val. I'm going to wash them first."
Not sure if he meant the pennies or mouse corpses.
There's Hick's jug, sitting on the car cover of his 1980 copper-colored Olds Toronado, which now resides under the new carport, since it got a moldy dome light spending a year in one of the freight containers. I told him I couldn't see inside. The penny jar, not the Toronado. So he made sure I could view those pennies in their full glory.
Don't hate Val because she's beautiful, and married to a prize catch like Hick. Hate Val because she has mouse pennies, and you don't.