THE AUTHORING AUCTIONEER

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Olyphant, Pennsylvania is a fabled city. It is believed by some–or at least by one–to be the nexus of the universe, not just because my auction gallery is located there, but because it was built by the ancient Egyptians as a portal to another dimension (a.ka. a Stargate), because the locations of the town’s churches mirror the points in the constellation Orion, because Olyphant’s elevation is equal to that of the Great Pyramid of Giza… Or something like that.

There are times when, several days before I am expected to compose yet another wonderful article, I stop and think to myself, “What the hell am I going to write about?” Then somehow, my muse, Satirica, manages to steer inspiration my way. This time, she offered yet another simpleton to the sarcastic wrath of my brother, Carlo, whose consequential tirade has allowed me to entertain you once again.

It was the summer of 1999… the summer that we moved Rebecca’s Auction Gallery to Olyphant. I was alone at the gallery, setting up for the approaching auction, when two women (I’ll call them Dense and Denser) walked in to have a look. All seemed normal. Dense and Denser perused the inventory, making ignorant quips and clucking away like chickens. I gave them a few minutes to walk around before greeting them. I asked if I could be of any assistance.