avatarJohn K Adams

Summary

A man living in his car finds a jacket with three gold teeth in the lining at a thrift store, which he later sells for a modest sum, considering the potential value.

Abstract

The narrative follows an individual who, despite the cold, prefers the autonomy of living in his car to the constraints of shelters. He visits a thrift store known for quality items, where he finds a well-preserved jacket with a damaged lining. Inside the lining, he discovers three gold teeth, which he sees as a stroke of luck. He contemplates the jacket's previous owner and the origins of the teeth, considering the possibility of a windfall. However, when he tries to negotiate the price of the jacket due to the damaged lining, the store clerk refuses to budge from the tagged price. Later, he sells the gold teeth to a pawnbroker for a sum that, while helpful, is less than he had hoped for, dashing some of his dreams for immediate financial relief.

Opinions

  • The narrator values independence and privacy over the communal and regimented life in shelters.
  • He has a keen eye for quality and value, especially in second-hand items, which he attributes to frequenting thrift stores.
  • The narrator is resourceful and opportunistic, seeing the gold teeth as a potential solution to his financial struggles.
  • He is somewhat cynical about the value of the gold teeth, recognizing that the pawnbroker's offer is low but accepting it as the best available option.
  • The narrator experiences a mix of satisfaction and disappointment, having found something valuable but receiving less than its perceived worth.

Three of a Kind

Luck of the draw…

photo by author

Damn it’s cold. What happened to summer? Actually, it’s not that cold. I’m not up north. Still, I need another jacket. I stay warm enough but sleeping in this car, my legs take the chill. How can people sleep outside?

I can’t stand the shelters. Crowded, hot and stuffy. No privacy. Too many rules. Not interested in taking orders from anyone. I take care of myself. Need to stay shy of the cops rousting my parking spot.

Being the end of the month, I can barely buy gas for the car and a cheap jacket. With cold weather here, jackets will go fast. Gotta play the sure bet.

I spend ten at the pump and go to this thrift store known for its better quality cast offs. Their collection bins are in the best locales. Rich people wear something once or twice and let it go. I’ll take comfort over fashion any day. Can’t stand the cold. But if I can have both?

Inside is the claustrophobic, muffled hush all these places have. The air hasn’t moved in about a decade. I saw that dust mote the last time I was here. Everyone whispers like they’re in the church of St. Polyester. Babies cry. Little kids run down dim aisles, playing hide and seek. Parents, do you know where your rug rats are?

I walk past the obsolete electronics, the wall of VHS tapes, the bank art and decrepit strollers and go straight to the jackets.

Why are t-shirts sorted by color and not by size? I have to look at fifty red mediums to find a single red large. Maybe rich people only wear medium. Sorting by sizes is above the pay grade, I guess. In a hand full of spades, a single heart will stand out, regardless the rank.

Today, there’s about a hundred white t-shirts from a failed sandwich shop. I don’t mind advertising for somebody, but why wear an ugly shirt? If their sandwiches tasted like their logo looked… well, never mind.

Spend enough time in these places and your eye gets trained. I spot the jacket. Quality stands out. It looks new, has a good cut and a leather collar. Wait, the lining is all ribbons. I shake it for bugs and try it on. Find a mirror. I look like a real sport. A regular dude. Perfect fit. And warm.

Eight bucks? Yikes! But there’s nothing else nearly so sharp. Let the winter rage.

Who destroyed the lining? Sometimes people sew things into the lining but this is outrageous. Hope they found what they were looking for. A friend of mine says he once found five Benjamins down the lining. Fat chance.

I check the pockets and there is nothing, as expected. But wait. What felt like a pebble is… A tooth? A gold tooth! There’s two more. One with enamel still attached. Amazing! Someone forgot his gold teeth in this beautiful jacket? I check again, but that’s it. Three will do. Not bad for an eight dollar visit to the thrift store. What are the odds?

Nice jacket, plus three gold teeth. This guy was flush. Why in his jacket though? Were they his? It doesn’t add up. Payment for a bad debt? Tell me about the installment plan. Don’t miss a payment.

What happens when a gold tooth bites a gold coin? I’d rather have the coin but the tooth will do. I thought about biting one of these but, who knows where they’ve been? It might bite back.

Making sure I’m not watched, I carefully drop the teeth into my shirt pocket. Hate to lose them. I feel eyes watching and wanting my jacket or my spare teeth.

Standing in the checkout line, I see a bright future and changes coming.

I could skip that game tonight. Use the break. Get my kid out of hock. Doesn’t he have a birthday coming up? Get him something nice. Get a place together. Or get a car with a heater. Or fix this one. Install a really fine sound system. All of the above. Sky’s the limit.

I lay the jacket on the counter.

“Can you give me a break on this? The lining is destroyed.”

She looks at the tag. “Eight.”

“I’ll give you seven.”

“Can’t go less than the tag.” She points at the sign. “See the sign?”

The sign reads, ‘All sales final. No bargaining.’

“But the lining…”

“Maybe that’s why it’s eight. A fine jacket. Look. Could be more.” She holds it up.

It is a fine jacket. But the lining’s ripped to shreds.

The crowd behind me murmurs a combination of approval over my ‘fine jacket’ and impatience for wasting their time. This last bit gives me an inexpressible satisfaction. Imagine, people waiting on me.

I fish for another dollar and she drops the jacket on the counter. Another pebble skips across the counter. Everyone clears back and scans the floor for the noisiest contact lens ever. The checkout lady smiles and holds up a loose button.

“See? Now I have to pay to replace that.”

“Eight dollars please. You want? You don’t want?”

I put the eight dollars on the counter. “Ring it up.”

She gives me the loose button. I drape the jacket over my shoulders and skedaddle. My escapade is nearly complete. Time to cash out.

Wanna buy three gold teeth? Slightly used, hardly worn. Bought them fair and square.

“Hey, Romeo!”

“What’s with Romeo? I’m not Romeo.”

“I just thought, ‘Romeo and Jewelry’ has a nice ring to it.”

“Don’t call me Romeo. What you got?”

I show him my recently acquired golden molars. He grunts and brings out a scale. He grunts again.

“Seventy-five.”

“That’s low. I’m doing you a favor.”

“That’s my price. You want it?”

“That’s seventy-five each?”

“No. Total. Twenty-five each.”

“You must be joking. These are gold man. Gold! You know what gold goes for?”

“You want charity? There’s a church down the street.”

“They can’t be that low.”

“Every time you come in, it’s the same. Why waste my time?”

“You know me. I always bring good stuff.”

“Take them. See who will give you more. I don’t care. This is the best price.”

Visions of sugar-plums evaporate before my eyes. Seventy-five eases the coast to my next relief check, but jeez…

Romeo leaves me with few options. I can’t spend gas looking for a better deal. He always plays it straight. But so close to the bone.

Guess I won’t blow off that game tonight. If I can parlay this windfall into some real money, I can cash in some of those dreams. Then I’ll be on my way. Maybe hit the road to Vegas.

Hustle
Fiction
Gold
Humor
Values
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