| Letters and Diary Non-Fiction posted July 11, 2014 |
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Short Truish Story
The Great Tanzanite Purchase
by michaelcahill
I stepped out of the pawnshop today for a smoke break. I'm not one that enjoys shopping. Indeed, I loathe it. It ranks up there with waiting to get a haircut and stopping for gas as one of the three activities to which I have an aversion. Thus, I have long hair and I do without many things. I am known for running out of gas, even though I have money and have passed up many opportunities to purchase gas. I consider it part of my charm. Others find those peculiarities less than desirable. I also tend to drift off topic, onto tangents, sometimes before even establishing what the topic is. Again, the debate over charming or irritating ensues.
I stroll back inside and there's my wife along with various other wives, girlfriends and exotic mistresses in flowing negligees… well, other ladies. They are all at the jewelry display counter. Standing behind them and saving me a space are the various husband, boyfriends and hypnotized love slaves… well, other guys. It looks so much like the local dive bar that I laugh out loud. The proprietor paces behind the counter like a bartender, chatting up the drunks… er… a… customers as they each ooh and aahh over the various baubles that they crave.
My wife looks back at me with glazed over eyes and says, "Tanzanite." She has a serious and determined look on her face as though this is the moment in her life that she has always longed for. This is the turning point… the epiphany. That is my cue to approach the bar and feign interest. Sadly, I know exactly what "Tanzanite" is. That is the stone they speak of on the Home Shopping Network. That is the channel the television switches to the second I leave the room for any reason. That is the channel that I have to, "Wait until they finish this segment… it's a commercial on the channel you were watching,,, this will only take a minute… it won't be on again this year… TANZANITE!".
There is no argument. Therefore, I know that tanzanite is more rare than a diamond and is only mined in Tanzania. Once they have mined the tanzanite there, it will all be gone. If you do not get it now, you will NEVER be able to get it again. This is the chance of a LIFETIME. The stones being offered right now will never be offered again at this price. They are giving them away to my wife and no one else. This is a private satellite link up just for her and her alone. If I were a male of any species, I would purchase the tanzanite for her. Some of this I am reading into the sense of urgency that I hear coming from the broadcast and the desperate look on her face.
Back to the bar, or counter as it were. All is going well. We men are standing there occasionally leaning forward when called upon. Soon we will be back in our cars, on the way home and it will be over. But, wait. No!. Oh, MERICIFUL GOD, NO! One of the bronze-skinned gigolos is reaching for his wallet. He is taking out CASH MONEY. The rotten son-of-a-bitch is putting a piece of jewelry on layaway! Damn him! That is just great. Now, here we all are, a whole row of suddenly impotent and worthless men that care nothing for our mates. We may as well plant sloppy kisses on each other. There is no way we are going to drive home with these woman and listen to how wonderful this jackass is.
There is no choice. As though our arms are connected, we all reach into our pockets and pull out our wallets. "Is that the one you want, honey?" is spoken in unison. "Honey" in this context, can be loosely translated to mean, "you that have me over a barrel with no choice but to buy you this crap that you want".
On the way home, I am a hero. She has the nerve to tell me, "thank you honey. I have everything I want now. That's the last piece of jewelry you'll ever have to buy me".
As my wife sits there in total denial, I, the great enabler, drive home.
I stepped out of the pawnshop today for a smoke break. I'm not one that enjoys shopping. Indeed, I loathe it. It ranks up there with waiting to get a haircut and stopping for gas as one of the three activities to which I have an aversion. Thus, I have long hair and I do without many things. I am known for running out of gas, even though I have money and have passed up many opportunities to purchase gas. I consider it part of my charm. Others find those peculiarities less than desirable. I also tend to drift off topic, onto tangents, sometimes before even establishing what the topic is. Again, the debate over charming or irritating ensues.
I stroll back inside and there's my wife along with various other wives, girlfriends and exotic mistresses in flowing negligees… well, other ladies. They are all at the jewelry display counter. Standing behind them and saving me a space are the various husband, boyfriends and hypnotized love slaves… well, other guys. It looks so much like the local dive bar that I laugh out loud. The proprietor paces behind the counter like a bartender, chatting up the drunks… er… a… customers as they each ooh and aahh over the various baubles that they crave.
My wife looks back at me with glazed over eyes and says, "Tanzanite." She has a serious and determined look on her face as though this is the moment in her life that she has always longed for. This is the turning point… the epiphany. That is my cue to approach the bar and feign interest. Sadly, I know exactly what "Tanzanite" is. That is the stone they speak of on the Home Shopping Network. That is the channel the television switches to the second I leave the room for any reason. That is the channel that I have to, "Wait until they finish this segment… it's a commercial on the channel you were watching,,, this will only take a minute… it won't be on again this year… TANZANITE!".
There is no argument. Therefore, I know that tanzanite is more rare than a diamond and is only mined in Tanzania. Once they have mined the tanzanite there, it will all be gone. If you do not get it now, you will NEVER be able to get it again. This is the chance of a LIFETIME. The stones being offered right now will never be offered again at this price. They are giving them away to my wife and no one else. This is a private satellite link up just for her and her alone. If I were a male of any species, I would purchase the tanzanite for her. Some of this I am reading into the sense of urgency that I hear coming from the broadcast and the desperate look on her face.
Back to the bar, or counter as it were. All is going well. We men are standing there occasionally leaning forward when called upon. Soon we will be back in our cars, on the way home and it will be over. But, wait. No!. Oh, MERICIFUL GOD, NO! One of the bronze-skinned gigolos is reaching for his wallet. He is taking out CASH MONEY. The rotten son-of-a-bitch is putting a piece of jewelry on layaway! Damn him! That is just great. Now, here we all are, a whole row of suddenly impotent and worthless men that care nothing for our mates. We may as well plant sloppy kisses on each other. There is no way we are going to drive home with these woman and listen to how wonderful this jackass is.
There is no choice. As though our arms are connected, we all reach into our pockets and pull out our wallets. "Is that the one you want, honey?" is spoken in unison. "Honey" in this context, can be loosely translated to mean, "you that have me over a barrel with no choice but to buy you this crap that you want".
As my wife sits there in total denial, I, the great enabler, drive home.
 Recognized |
This is embellished a bit, but not much actually!
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