This weekend, my husband’s lovely aunt decided to throw a little Croak party for the kids in the family. There were signings, swag, trivia questions (these kids know more about my book than I do), and, of course, death-themed desserts:
Now, I had planned to arrive at this party right on time since, you know, it was being thrown in my honor. But Will and I ended up arriving around ten minutes late – and yet, I regret nothing. Here’s why.
On our way to the party, we saw a sign for a yard sale. At this rate, we were barely going make it on time as it was, so we definitely didn’t have time to stop and poke around these people’s old discarded possessions, as we so often love to do, unless – wait, is that some framed art up in this piece?
If you’ve never had the misfortune of being inside my house (and how rude of me not to extend the invitation, please drop in whenever you’d like), let me just say that it’s a menagerie of terrible art. We have a hallway specifically dedicated to the stuff, such as Lady Monkey Guitarington, along with a few other pieces that I will one day get around to blogging about. Suffice it to say, we’re suckers for the stuff, especially if it includes creepy children or creepy animals, or, God willing, both.
So when we piled out of the car, trying to keep the jubilation off our faces, we had high hopes. I scanned the art quickly – a field, a cat looking out a window (animal, but not creepy – pass), a vase of flowers. There was a super weird figurine of a hot pink sheep toting a wagon, but I wasn’t feeling it. And then…there it was.
A stunning, stunning canvas drawing of a unicorn. But not just any unicorn. Look at that sultry, come-hither face! Look at that luscious, flowing mane! Those bulging muscles! LOOK AT THE WAY IT’S POINTING AT ITS HIGHLY VISIBLE UNICORN JUNK!
Needless to say, I had my hot little hands wrapped around this thing faster than you can say, “unicorn restraining order”. I didn’t have any cash on me, so I had to bully Will into popping open his wallet, removing the five bucks that was in it, and – since the price tag said $10 – forcing him to go haggle with the lady using only his manly charms and a coquettish wink, not unlike the one on the face of our new unicorn friend. What followed was a master class in the art of negotiation, going a little something like this:
Will: (winking flirtatiously and holding up unicorn) “So-”
Woman: “You can have that for five bucks.”
Will: (frowning, giving it a few solid beats of thought, like the Oscar-winning actor he is) “Very well.”
And then balloons rained down from the sky and I danced back to the car and we were late to the party, but it was all worth it because there is now a lascivious mythological creature above the mantle of our fireplace, ready to unsettle and/or seduce any visitors that might happen through our doors. Win.