Sign - Umbrella - Fan

"Sign here," the man thrust his pen at me, pulled out his fan and began to fan his face.  His umbrella poked back and forth on his leg like some manic tap dancer.

I couldn't believe what I was doing.  After all, this was a HUGE investment, and I really wasn't in any position to buy ANYTHING right now, let alone this...this thing.


But here I was on the street corner, in a scuzzy part of town, in the middle of what promised to be a heavy downpour, buying this thing from a total stranger.

The stranger wasn't much to look at.  He was actually kind of sleazy-looking.  His hair was black and slicked against his head like he had put vaseline on it to keep down a stubborn cowlick.  His face was swarthy and unshaven, and his clothes rumpled on his body like he had just pulled them out of the dirty clothes bin.  In addition, he had a definite...well, let's just call it a definite odor.  Not an unpleasant odor, exactly, but I suppose the slightly sweet, salty, sweaty odor may have come from the thing I was just purchasing.

But to pay such an exorbitant amount for THIS?  I mean, who knew where it came from?  How did it even GET in this country?  Why did this man, disreputable as he look, come by it in the first place?  And why, oh why, was I buying it???

But, bought it I did.  The man finished fanning himself, trying to stave off the humidity that mixed with the downpour until one wasn't sure what was water from the sky or sweat.  He opened his umbrella, handed me the thing, and walked off whistling something that sounded suspiciously like the Jeopardy tune, and I looked at my purchase with a jaundiced eye.

How on earth was I going to explain THIS to my husband?  It was only then the thing began to speak...