I was all shook up when I pulled up beside a sandwich-board sign which read GENERAL STORE – OPEN. Not by Elvis unfortunately, but by fifty kilometres of corrugated gravel road.
Sweet silence.
The multi-colour strip door fluttered invitingly and the store interior was cool and dark.
“G’day, ” said a man behind a counter.
A large dog lay on bare floorboards; whitish, woolly-haired, unkempt.
“What’s his name? ” I asked the shopkeeper.
“Woodle, ” he replied.
I addressed the dog, “Hello Woodle, ” and asked the shopkeeper, “Is it a Standard Poodle? ”
“No, it’s a sheep, ” the shopkeeper replied.
I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the gloom, “Oh yes, so it is.”
“How can I help you? ” asked the shopkeeper.
“Um… what do you recommend? ” I asked.
“Depends on what you need, ” he countered agreeably. He was nice looking, wiry – getting on a bit.
“I don’t know what I need, ” I explained.
“Right… well I’ve got beer, petrol, hardware, powdered milk, cola, DVD’s, tins of fruit, batteries, detergent, auto parts, hot pies, teabags, soap, toothbrushes, chewing gum, …………….”
I considered the options and shrugged.
“Wait right there, ” he said, “I might have something you’d like.”
He left and returned a few minutes later with a box about so high and so long.
“What is it? ” I asked, peering inside.
“I’ve got no idea, ” he replied.
“Really? ! ? ! ”
“Honestly, I haven’t got a clue.”
“But where did it come from? ”
“It’s always been here, as far back as I can remember, ” explained the shopkeeper. “My Grandad displayed it in the window at one time but it never sold because no-one knew what it was so he put it back in the box.”
“How much is it? ” I asked, trying not to sound too keen.
“Well let’s see, there should be a price tag.” He adjusted his glasses and brushed aside the dust. “Nineteen shillings, I reckon, ” he said.
“And how much would that be now? ” I asked.
He frowned and tapped his head with one forefinger. “Well, I’m pretty sure my great Grandad priced this and that must have been around 1900, so with inflation that’d make it roughly $133.06 today.”
“That’s a bit steep, ” I protested.
“Hang on a minute, ” he said, inspecting the tag again. “Sorry, my mistake – it’s not nineteen shillings – it’s nineteen Pounds, which’d make it…, ” he tapped the side of his head again, “…roughly $2661.16 today and that’s not accounting for appreciation due to its unique antique status.”
“Oh…I haven’t got anywhere near that much, ” I said, genuinely disappointed because I’d taken a fancy to it.
“How much would you be prepared to pay? ” he asked.
I tipped out my purse – $168.35.
“It’s a deal, ” he said kindly.
“Really! Thank you – that’s great.”
The shopkeeper lifted it out of the box.
“Could you leave it in the box please? ” I asked. “It’d be easier to carry.”
“Sorry luv, I can’t let you have the box, ” he said. “It has sentimental value you see.”
I must have looked puzzled because he explained, “I was always tripping over that box when I was a boy. Wherever I went – passage to the storeroom, behind the counter, in the garage, out by the chook shed, path to the dunny, the verandah sleepout, beside my bed even – I’d trip over that bloody box. My Grandad used to call me a clumsy numbskull and chuck bloodwood gumnuts at the back of my head, or aim for my ear with those big sharp-ridged mallee nuts – Crikey! – they stung like mad. I swear he’d move that box around deliberately to trip me up and then – zing! My Mum used to say he’d take my eye out one day, but he had too good an aim for that. He was a clever old bastard. I really miss him you know.” The shopkeeper’s eyes were shining.
“Gee, ” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say. I tried to arrange my face in an empathetic expression. “Well, I guess I’d better be getting on.”
I carefully gathered my mystery purchase in my arms, stepped backwards, turned and tripped over the sheep. Sprawled on the floor, the sheep and I contemplated each other with mirrored surprise. Zing! Something hard and sharp grazed my ear. I watched a mallee nut skating across the floorboards.
“Clumsy numbskull! ” chuckled the shopkeeper.
Shopping
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