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Living the Life of Holly
By Holly Winter
© 2003
The Teasing Wars

Lena scratched her head again.

“I’m sure you have lice.” I diagnosed. “Could you please sit somewhere else?”

“It’s my head. It knows I’m in a place where I CAN’T scratch it, so suddenly the itchies break out. It’s driving me crazy.”

“You’re a brave girl. I’d NEVER scratch my head here.”

Sean leaned over to her. “You just bid five hundred dollars on that baseball card collection with your last scratch.”

Lena froze. I froze. Together we turned to the auctioneer. Could the scratch of a head buy something that revolting?

“Sold to the boy in the baseball cap for five dollars.” Came the call.

“Gee. Thanks.” The boy smiled, clutching his cards.

Lena relaxed. “I would have used them in my classroom for a writing exercise.” She would never admit to Sean that he had raised her blood pressure.

“Two thousand baseball cards?” He laughed. “You should have seen your face.”

We were in Longmont, a city an hour north of Denver. We were at their Wednesday night auction. This was my first auction. Oh. There were some treasures. We had just watched a signed M.C. Escher print sell for one hundred dollars. I know. I know. But. Remember. I am living in a place that has furniture for walls.

Sean plopped down next to me. “You gonna bid?”

“I want the auctioneer. Do you think I can afford him?”

He laughed. “He’s too fast talking for you. You like men who t-a-l-k s-l-o-w.”

“Well. Then. I’ll wait for the green metal lamp.”

He shook his head. “You’ll never get it. I’ve been watching and the buyers have been circling it for hours.”

I sat up. “You think some crumby buyer can out bid ME?”

“Easily.” He shrugged. “Pick the top price you’ll pay. Don’t go above it.”

“Ok. I won’t go above fifteen dollars.” I promised.

Lena wanted an antique, white desk that was up and decided to bid to fifty dollars. I had to agree. If I had the room, I would have been willing to outbid her by paying fifty dollars and ten cents to get that desk.

The auctioneer called, “Hundred. Who’ll’pay’a’hundred?”

Yeah. No. Nobody.

“Folks. This’s’a’rare’find. A’white’desk. Drawers. Handmade. Old. You’know’you’want’it.”

People started craning their necks to get a better look at it.

“Why is he doing that?” Lena whined. “He always talks up the stuff I’m bidding on. I don’t want to pay a higher price.

“How’about’twendy? Will’somone’pay’twendy’to’take’this’treasure’home?”

He got a bid.

“I’see’twendy. How’bout’twendy’fiv? Need’twendy’fiv.”

Lena bid.

“Do’I’hav’thirdy? Thirdy’fiv? Fordy?”

Lena bid forty.

“How’bout fordy’fiv?”

Lena bid.

The auction stopped. Everything got quiet. Everyone was staring at Lena. I stared at her too, thinking that maybe the lice had become more apparent.

“Did I win?” She whispered as she held her breath.

“I think you won a lynching.” I whispered back as I eyed the door. Did we need to run?

The auctioneer spoke in a normal voice, which I found shocking. Auctioneers can speak in normal cadences. Who would’ve thought? He cleared his throat. “You bid forty. Then you bid forty five. I like a woman who wants to make me richer, but you might want to wait for someone else to place a bid. It’s more fun that way, ok?”

We laughed. Man it was tense in there. See. We learned something. Bidding twice in a row won’t make you successful in this arena.

He winked at Lena. “Hav’forty’need’fordy’fiv. Now’need’fifdy.”

Lena bid fifty. Everyone else dropped out.

“Sold’to’the’woman’who’was’bidding’against’herself. Hey. Don’t make a habit of that, ok?” He charmed.

“Ok.” She called back.

My green metal antique lamp was held up. It was fabulous and needed no introduction. Ok. Maybe I would pay more than fifteen dollars. You know. Just to annoy Sean.

“Who’ll’start’the’biddin’at’a’hundred’dollars?”

Nobody.

“How’bout’fifdy?”

No bid.

“Let’s’start’at’ten.”

“Now’I’need’twelve’fidy. Twelve’fidy. Have’ten’need’twelve’fidy.” He sang.

I bid with Lena’s number.

“Need’fideen. Need sevendeen’fidy.”

I bid. Sean stared at me. He made the stop signal. Yeah. No. No way. I want that lamp. And if I could make him mad at the same time, wasn’t that going to give me two birds with one stone?

“Need’twendy.”

Sean stared at me. He signaled again. I looked away. Man. Wouldn’t that lamp look awesome in my living room?

“Need twenty’two’fidy.”

I bid.

Nobody else bid.

“Have’twenty’need’twenty’two’fidy.” He repeated.

Nothing.

“You’gonna’let’her’have’it’so’cheap?”

Ok. So. I wanted to punch the auctioneer. Would that land me in jail? Yes. Let me have it so cheap. I was already over budget.

Nothing. No other bid. I held up Lena’s number.

“Sold’for’twenty’two’fidy.”

I was happier than if I had built the lamp with my own two hands. I had won.

“Good job!” Lena complimented, regaining possession of her number.

“No. Not good.” Sean pouted. “You went over your budget. You should shop at Wal-mart. You can’t be trusted at an auction.”

“Don’t worry about him.” Lena said as he sulked off. “He’s upset that he hasn’t found his bargain.”

We watched as they announced the next item. “Now folks. I don’t know what to make of this. It might be a statue. I’ll describe it for you folks in the back. It’s a black wooden stool covered in blue plastic lace. And inside it there are mirrors? And is that some bits of stockings? Ok. Looks like there’s even a CD glued in there.”

There was a tittering of laughter moving through the crowd. What was it? And why was it there?

The auctioneer was embarrassed. “I guess it’s modern art. Who will give me five dollars for it?”

Not a sound. Nobody scratched a head. Nobody coughed. It was truly hideous.

“How about three dollars?” He asked, defeated.

Nothing.

“A dollar?”

I leaned over to Lena. “You should get it for Sean.” I whispered.

“NO.” She said, a little too loud.

We laughed.

“You said yourself that he was sad that he didn’t get his bargain. This would be something only you could give him. And it’s only a dollar!”

“A dollar folks. Surely someone would like to take this off our hands for a dollar.”

Lena leaned forward in her chair. She leaned back in her chair.

“Come on, Lena. He deserves a gift. He’s been teasing us all night. Let’s get him back!”

“A dollar? Who wants this modern art for one dollar?”

She raised her bid card.

The auctioneer pointed quickly at her, before she could change her mind. “Sold for one dollar to number four hundred sixty eight. Thanks lady. May I say you have strange taste?” He laughed.

Oh. We didn’t mind his laughter. We were laughing far louder.

Sean caught the tail end of our conspiring giggles.

“I got you a gift.” Lena said, strait faced.

“REALLY?” He asked, eyes lighting up.

Ok. I felt a little bad. I mean. Maybe we should have gotten him something good, like that five dollar church pew.

“Yes, really.” She said.

We proudly showed him his gift, The Price Is Right style.

“WOW.” He said. “THIS IS THE COOLEST THING EVER.”

“Really?” I asked.

“You like it?” Lena asked.

“ I love it. It’s so cool. So different. How much did it cost? What an amazing conversation piece.”

I looked at Lena. She looked at me. We both clutched out chests in disbelief, but smiled sweetly at Sean.

“I’m going to put it in the entry way to my new house.”

“Perfect place for it.” (You freak.) I said. (And didn’t say.)

I took Lena aside. “He scares me.”

“Me too.”

“Please tell me he’s teasing us.”

“He’s not. He loves it.” She sighed.

See. That’s the problem with teasing wars. They’re not predictable. And you can never tell if you’ve won or lost.

I know. I know. When it comes to teasing wars, it’s not whether you win or lose. It’s really about how you play the game, right?

Wanna try another column? How about #120 Cheering for All the Wrong Reasons, which is about going to the rodeo with Kate.

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