Husband and I went upstate last weekend to keep a dinner date with friends from Albany who we don’t see often enough. On the way, we stopped in a little town where I checked out an antique shop while Husband looked in a hat store down the street. Tucked away on a shelf inside the shop, I found an earthenware bowl with an interesting glaze. I brought it to the elderly proprietor so he could tell me more about it.
The old man smiled at me with pointy brownish teeth and said, “Ah! You haf an eye for bee-ootiful tings, I see.” He sounded so much like Bela Lugosi in Dracula it startled me. I opened my mouth to ask if that was a Transylvanian accent he had, but you never know how someone will take a question like that, especially if they walk among the undead. He turned the bowl over in his gnarled hands and breathed out a whistle-like sound through his nose.
BELA: Yes, yes. Dis is varry old, varry old. Such crafzmanship. You don’t see dis now, no, no.
OSV: What can you tell me about the glaze? Could I put food in it or do you think it contains lead?
BELA: Lead? Lead! So much fuss today about everyting. You want to put food in it, you put food in it. In the old days we don’t worry so much about tings like lead.
I thought, really? You mean back when 25 was middle-aged? I guess maybe the paint chip awareness campaign wasn’t so big at a time when people were trying to survive their own birth.
BELA: People, dey ask me, “But the inside of dis salt shaker is so rusty, how can I put salt in it?” And I tell dem, the body, it needs dese tings! Dese tings will not hurt you.
Just as Bela was waving his arms around in praise of mineral additives, the door opened and Husband walked in. Bela turned from me and called out, “I’ll be wit you soon!” and Husband took one look at this strange old man whose face could have belonged to any war criminal from the past sixty years and shot me a look like, “You don’t know me,” so I turned back to Bela and the bowl.
BELA: Yes, yes, we must enjoy the bee-ootiful tings in life. You should fill dis bowl wit any food you like and enjoy.
Out of the corner of my eye I could feel Husband staring straight at me like FOOD? In that ancient crap colored bowl? Even if we get a dying dog you’re not putting food in it. Why are you listening to this vampire anyway?
Husband leaned his back against the front door with his hand on the knob, giving me the universal sign in marriageland for “We’re done here.”
OSV: Okay, so thanks for all your expert information. I’m going to take a pass on the bowl though. And I’ll keep in mind your advice about rust and all.
BELA: (bowing his head) Haf a gooood eeeevening.
I slipped out the door Husband was holding open and we looked at each other like, oh yeah, we won’t be back in there without a silver bullet.
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