Silent War

Rooster and I are not allowed into any more silent auctions Ever Again.

Last year at Lil Street we walked away with:

a) a 3-foot by 4-foot photograph of a red head with cleavage playing poker

b) a tastefully framed (but not much else) 5 x 7 of a naked well built man holding a yellow rubber ducky in front of his special place

c) a 2-foot square wooden block imprinted with a picture of the moon

-and-

d) a nasty marital feud which I refer to as That Night You Were A Jerk at the Art Center. And Rooster refers to as That Night You Yelled at Me Till I Cried.

This year at the Intonation Silent Auction we fared remarkably better. No fighting, and instead of weird art, we became the proud owners of a bluegrass band performance. It went down like this:

Rooster: How cool would it be to have a band play at BB’s first birthday party?

Chicken: Pass me another piece of pizza.

Rooster: She would love it!

Chicken: Ummm, pizza.

Next thing we know, a bidding war has ensued between Rooster and a man in a suit. After we go up $50 past our “ceiling” Rooster is ready to throw in the towel, but Chicken is now inspired—visions of the Best Baby Bash Ever have flooded the brain. We’ll be the cool parents. The ones with friends in a BAND. No matter that if we win that band, our current 4-person guest list will be diminished by one musician. On the other hand, it’s a 6-piece band… more bodies at the party!

When the 30 second countdown begins for final bids, the man in the suit pushes forward to make a bid $10 over our last bid. Foul! Chicken flies to the clipboard and scribbles a number underneath him. WHILE HE IS WRITING. The man in the suit calls Chicken, “inscrutable” and stomps off.

Oh Baby Bird, come January, your party is going to be off the hook. Just like my “inscrutable” Silent Auction reputation.