When I returned to collect my money and my shoes, I found that Mom and Pop had skipped town.  This made me very angry, but it was difficult for me to do anything about it.  I didn’t know where they had gone.  I mean, I’m pretty well connected, but I don’t exactly have tabs on two random old people who nobody’s ever heard of and who I’ve only met once.  And my friend, Jerry, was really pissed off at me about all this.  All he had left to wear was cowboy boots.  I tried to encourage him, but he kept insisting, “but I don’t WANNA be a cowboy!”

Finally, we got a call.  A random tip.  Mom and Pop were hawking Jerry’s shoes in the suburbs.  Parsippany, New Jersey.

By the time we got there, it was a gruesome scene.  Nearly all of Jerry’s sneakers were gone.  Pop flinched when he saw us get off the bus.  I stopped to tip the bus driver, who we’d paid to go completely off his route in order to drop us off.  I looked back at the other passengers.  “Sorry folks,” I said.   “Enjoy the rest of your week.”

I stopped on the curb to light a cigar that I’d picked up at Anoxia’s smoke shop in Detroit.  It was no Cuban, but it would do.  After a short ordeal in which my hair caught fire and I spent a few minutes rolling around on the ground while Jerry carelessly stomped on my head, we regained our solemn demeanor and approached the man.

“Afternoon, Pop,” I said, extinguishing my cigar on the front of his shirt.  “Small world, eh?  Fancy seeing you here.  I’m a huge yard sale fan.  Have you got any good deals?”

He shifted uncomfortably, touching the cigar burn with his fingertips, but he stood tall.  It seemed that he didn’t know what to say.  He was waiting to see what our move would be.  But I was going to play it coy.

“You’ve got an awful lot of nice stuff here,” I said.  “Anything that me or my friend here might be interested in?”

He remained silent, so I gave him a jab in the ribs, where the cigar had burned him.  “Anything for us—Mr. Pop?”

“Alright, alright already,” he finally responded.  “Just take whatever you want.  Just leave us alone.”

“Oh, we will,” I said.  “But I don’t believe that’s enough, Mr. Pop.  I believe we had discussed something the other day.  A debt that is owed to me.  Seeing as how you’ve left our neighborhood and closed your business, I suppose I can allow you to simply buy out.  10 grand, and you and lovely Cecelia can move on, worry free.”

“But I….but sir,” he said.  “I don’t have that kind of money.  Surely you must understand.  Our business was on the verge of going under.  We are just a simple couple.  Can’t we work something out?”

“Working something out is what I was trying to do when we first met, Mr. Pop,” I said.   “You’ve already fucked that up.   Big time.  What I want is the deed to your building.  Your storefront.”

“But that’s…I mean, it was to be for…” he stammered.

“It was for our children.” Cecelia—‘Mom’—said as she stepped forward from the porch of the house for the first time.  “But we never had any.  That’s our big secret.  We are a fraud Mom and Pop.  Just give it to them, Henry,” she said.  “We don’t have any use for it anymore.  And then they’ll just leave us to our retirement.”

He nodded.  It was the safe move to make.  He knew that as well as she did.

“It doesn’t make me happy, Cecelia,” he said.  “But I guess it’s for the best.  Wait here, gentlemen, and I’ll go fetch the deed.”  He entered the house and Jerry and I perused their garage sale items, picking up a few household items in addition to Jerry’s now much lighter box of sneakers.  I found a beautiful antique jeweled hand mirror for my boss, and a hand-crafted wooden bellows for myself.

He returned with a folder full of papers, and we left, as promised.  On the bus, our arms loaded with our yard sale items, I looked out the window, excited at our new property acquisition.  I would present it to the boss, of course, and I was excited at the potential.  A new front for our laundering, perhaps.  Maybe an armory.  I fell asleep with my head against the window while considering the neighborhood’s suitability for drug front property…

SINGERROURKE was eating his kettle corn that he bought from the local vendor man. Everytime Cosmo Kramer was around the mood just lightened for SINGERROURKE. He was happy to see him around so he put on that old hat of his and began clapping for Cosmo.

Way to go Cosmo im happy that you got that uh STORE if you know what im saying.

Many thanks, SingerRourke.  Very glad to have someone enjoying my stories, especially on such an eventful day. 

I promise that your kind words will be rewarded with more loony stories about my past.  Your encouragement is much appreciated.