They ring the bell, rouse the family, bully their way in, and clean out all the Finds before the garage sale begins. The family, confused, sleepy, and thrilled to have cash in hand and stuff out of their garage before the sale even begins, doesn't even know what hit them. They have no way of knowing that Grandma's rocker, the crate from old Uncle Ernest's basement, or Aunt Josie's old dresser they just sold for twenty dollars will be sitting inside an antique store show room ticketed for three hundred bucks before the weekend is over. We move on for several blocks but the scenery does not change. One after another, Find after Find, all neatly laid out and well-priced.
Intense disappointment begins to set in.
Three men walk past all proudly carrying their purchases of stuffed and mounted deer heads. Finally we stop long enough to turn the tags dangling from the merchandise. I shake my head. My friend calls me over to a display on the corner. I examine it carefully.