Yesterday I had lunch with Andrea, dad, and mom in Ohio City before swinging next door to a used book store. We discovered upon entry that the store was going out of business. The store was an absolute mess, essentially a pile of books, dust jackets, empty shelves, and cat litter. But being a sucker for a cheap book, I proceeded to dig through the destruction. I found a number of wooden crates that were full of theology books. There wasn’t too much that would interest anyone who doesn’t oversee an academic library or a campfire.
I found a copy of Robert Kysar’s, Maverick Gospel tucked next to an old issue of Theology Today and thought that 90% off was too good to resist. So I began to restack the old wooden crates that I had sorted through when a nail that protruded from the crate’s right side sliced into my hand.
I did my best not to make any noise or show emotion, fearing that the grouchy proprietor would dismiss me from his store if he knew that I was bleeding all over the inventory. So I whispered to mom and told her what happened. The only remedy we had was lotion from Andrea’s purse. The cut did not get any better, but cucumber-melon was the best thing to happen to this musty shop since Gutenberg. Afraid that I needed more, mom went back to our lunch spot to see if they could help. Our waitress insisted that I come over so that she could attend to me. She bandaged me up and sent me away.
Serving me a falafel sandwich for lunch and following it up with medical care is more than I could ask from this particular deli. Meanwhile next door, the shop owner remained oblivious to my misery. When I returned to the bookstore to settle my debts, he informed me that the books in the wooden crates had already been sold. I wondered if he had a vendetta against his prospective buyer.
The moral of this story is two-fold: Always ask before you go rummaging through a clearance sale. And, more importantly, be sure to encourage your favorite librarian to keep current with their tetanus shots.
1 Comment
July 23, 2008 at 8:35 pm
Fredrik works in construction (used to, but only sometimes now), and I’ve known him 10 years and he hasn’t had a tetanus since I’ve known him….. I keep telling him he needs to get one.. But you know.. sometimes men are stubborn.
(And he’s afraid of needles.)