Carolina and I had gone to an auction being held in a large warehouse. The auction goods were sitting around and the auction had already begun. The auctioneer was a woman. A lamp with a large glass bulb at the bottom was offered for sale. The bid went up to $17. A man bidding on the lamp put his finger on his nose so his finger extended to his forehead, and said, "$500."
The auctioneer looked at me as if to say, "What does that mean?"
I thought he must have meant $5. The auctioneer accepted his bid and sold the lamp to him. But instead of adding $5 to the previous bid, she sold the lamp for $18.50. It turned out there were about 600 lamps, and the man had bought all of them. I thought to myself that the man was also an auctioneer and that he planned to sell the lamps one at a time at subsequent auctions.
A short man (in his late 20s) then took over as auctioneer. A large, bright red bicycle made of wood was brought out. It appeared to be hand-made. I really liked the looks of the bicycle. The bidding began, and when it reached $80, I also began bidding. I bid $85, then $95. But when someone else bid $100, I stopped, because I didn't want to go past $100.
The woman who had bid $100 asked, "Who's bidding against me."
I didn't say anything at first, but then told her I was bidding against her. I added, "But I'm going to let you have it for a hundred."
When she bought the bicycle, a man who was probably her husband, looked at her as if he were upset that she had paid that much for it.
The next item for sale was also a bicycle. It was a red racing bike also hand-made. The bidding proceeded and I bid $95 on the bike. Another man was bidding against me, but he wouldn't go any higher, so I bought it for $95.
As soon as the bidding stopped, I realized I didn't have an auction number. But I looked at Carolina and saw that she had the number. She held it up so the auctioneer could see it.
I noticed Carolina's face looked a bit fat and bloated.
I walked over to my bike just as two boys (each about 10 years old) old jumped on it and knocked it over. I yelled, "Get off that bike!"
When they moved away I picked up the bike and looked at it. It looked as if they might have bent the front rim. It looked a bit wobbly. I was very irritated that they had jumped on the bike like that.
Copyright 2004 by luciddreamer2k@gmail.com
