The Billionaire Goes Garage Saling

You probably saw the signs today all over town, on every post, tree, and stump, trumpeting a fantastic event -- a golden opportunity -- to see and meet the billionaire. It was so great. The Daily News contacted me and the billionaire, to see if he'd kick off the official garage sales season in style. I, being a big fan of garage sales -- at least back before I myself became a billionaire, and can now afford better stuff -- thought it was a great thing to do.

I've never been a fan of billionaires sitting in mansions behind large gates, if they don't have to. I like it when they get out and mingle with the hoi polloi, and give them something to hope for. Plus, it's worth its weight in gold for the billionaire, potentially, in the off chance there's a revolution and they're coming for the billionaires to take us to the guillotine. I want the little people at least to consider sparing our sorry hides, and certainly that of the billionaire, because we were so kind to them in good times, when we could've crapped on them, as the rich normally do.

Frankly, the billionaire's been wealthy for so long, and lacking nothing, that he's forgotten how the average person lives. Hand to mouth and looking for bargains where they can, even if it means standing in other people's back yards, finding something we need and talking them down to a quarter. How often I did it myself, back before I had my $2.1 billion.

How embarrassing it was, though, when we walked up to the first garage sale and the billionaire simply announced, "I'll take everything," leaving everyone else discouraged and angry. A few of them came up to him to "meet" him still, but only to give him a piece of their mind. I didn't care for him doing that, but, honestly, he could do it if he wanted. He was a paying customer, too!

Still ... I didn't say anything, but I'm sure I flushed red in the face and was embarrassed. He did better the next few sales, and people were happy. Later on, then, we hit a garage sale that to me was worthless, having a lot of ladies clothes, baby clothes, knickknacks that someone might've had in their bathroom, etc. And other stuff that I've always hated, like 2 liter bottles with a doll's head on top and the rest of the body covered by its knitted dress.

Again, I was completely embarrassed, and even personally aghast, when the billionaire announced, "I'll take everything." This time I pulled him aside and said part of the etiquette at a garage sale is that you only pick out the things that you want, leaving the other things you don't want for someone else who may. He seemed perplexed. He'd done it as an act of mercy, since he thought they'd waste their whole day and not make much.

OK, I can see that. And I suppose if I were having a garage sale and someone came and bought everything, I'd like it. After all, I'd be able to get on with my day. We had the same thing happen at the craft sale, when the billionaire bought everything, and it didn't bother me. The big difference is that there were others at the garage sale who were interested and browsing. They left angry.

It's worth some further analysis. Another downside would be, say, I want to have a garage sale the next year, and the billionaire doesn't show up. I don't want the people to be so upset about what went down last time, so they wouldn't come back. It can be nerve-wracking, the things you have to consider when you have garage sales. Public goodwill is a big part of your reputation.

But the whole concept has given me a great idea, with the state's largest book sale coming up on the 16th. O! I feel so much ... opportunity ... and evil ... flowing through my mind. I need to retire early today from other billionaire activities, yes, to consider my options, and how it would be done, if I decide it can be done. Thank you, billionaire! Your example has just brought out the best (or the worst) in me!

Do Criminals Just Know Each Other?

This is the last thing I would have expected! I've been around this town all my life, and nothing has been off limits to me. I went about my business in all parts of town, never giving a single thought to whose turf it was.

And that's the way it is for everyone else. We always go freely wherever we want, to the grocery stores, gas stations, garage sales, and really everywhere. Sure, I'd always heard rumors about criminal gangs, but since there was never any trouble from them as far as I was concerned, I figured they had a clubhouse somewhere and the rest of the rumors were just overblown.

Now it looks like I might have to watch my step, now that I too am among the criminal class, officially a member of the Skids organization. I've got a map of the town at this link, how the gangs have everywhere divvied up. The Skids have the central district. If you look at the map, we're the only landlocked organization, which might pose a problem if the others get the idea of starving us into submission. That's a fear I have now, a fear I never thought of before, again, because of the easy, unimpeded access to the town I've always enjoyed.

I was going on that assumption earlier today when I buzzed out to the Tastee Freez for a hot fudge sundae. Of course now I know the Tastee Freez is in the Ciggies' district, something that never occurred to me before. I have literally never had any inkling of it. But today, there I was, and a guy with a cigarette stopped by my table and said, "I smell a Skid." I thought, What? I don't smell any different than I ever did, I hope. But I suddenly realized, maybe I do! I haven't been home for several days. I've been sleeping on a couch in one of the empty places on Skidrow, right in the heart of the Skids' headquarters. This guy's obviously honed his senses, if he's able to smell out that you're a criminal and which organization you're with!

I thought maybe I could be cagey, saying, "I don't smell anything, except that cigarette, and I believe this is the non-smoking section." Little did I know he wasn't in a mood for sass. He grabbed me by the lapels and lifted me from my chair. I felt ridiculous, hovering between heaven and earth with a little red plastic spoon in my hand. If I'd brought a gun, I could've killed him and finished my sundae at my leisure. As it was, I'd be lucky to escape with my own life, not to mention my investment in the ice milk treat.

But I thought, This is no time to show fear. You have to show confidence in the face of these bastards, criminals. So I said, "Put me down, Ciggie, if you know what's good for your health. Of course you don't or you wouldn't be dragging on that butt!" He smiled, a big tar and nicotine brown smile, not quite as brown as the hot fudge but still brown enough. Then he lowered me back to my chair. I looked in my bowl. Not much had melted during the interlude.

He pulled out a chair, but instead of sitting on it normal, he flipped it around and sat on it backwards. I thought, Good grief. I'm a criminal myself, but this dude's classless. He proceeded to lecture me about turf, and that the Skids needed to stay in their own place. He pointed out, rightly, that we have a DQ right on the edge of our turf. I allowed that, that he was right, but said I'd been eating at Tastee Freez for years, like everyone in town. "That may be," he said with menace, "but those days are over. Now you're a Skid!"

The whole thing hit me in a terrible way. Just because I'm a criminal, I'm not allowed to go to Tastee Freez!? It's almost enough to scare me straight! What good is a life of crime if you're restricted like that? And obviously if I can't go to this one store, then everything else is off limits, including garage sales. And I've been to a lot of them in this section of town. It's sort of middle class, not too rich, not too poor, so the garage sales are pretty good, things not usually overpriced like in the rich section, but not dirt quality like you see in the poorer neighborhoods. I'm going to have a hard time adjusting!

How did he know me? Was it truly just the smell? I didn't smell anything. If every criminal knows every other criminal, that's really going to cramp my style!