Bait

“Is this stuff stolen?” That was the first thing the dealer asked me. I assured him that I had never stolen anything in my life. I told him that he was discriminating against me just ’cause I looked young. I told him I could be a rich old man and he’d be too prejudiced to see it. He told me, “If you were rich you wouldn’t be here.” He’s right, anybody who is selling garbage at the dog trade can’t be in a good financial spot. They don’t actually trade dogs there, no it’s more like an auction for used junk. Maybe they call it that ’cause dogs like me are the ones doing the trading. He told me he didn’t buy stolen goods. Yeah, right. I probably helped steal half the stuff in his crappy sale barn. Nevertheless, I assured him that I don’t sell stolen goods either. I could tell he didn’t believe me. I think there’s something about my face that makes people think I’m dishonest. They always look at it for a long time, with their nose all scrunched up. Maybe it’s my dark hair and tan skin my dad gave me. I remember that dealer gave me the classic scrunched nose look. He asked, “You that Ash Williams kid?” I threw my head back and cackled,

“You think I’m Ash Williams?” I asked, “First you think I’m a thief and now you confuse me for that convict!” I tried to change the subject and said, “Look, I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll take fifty bucks for the bundle,” I can’t remember all I had. I think it was some old fishing rods and a bag of rusted tools. What I do remember having was a nice blue tackle box. I remember there being like five good jigs, any kind of lure you could think of, and a brand new pack of hooks. If I didn’t need the money, I probably would have kept the box for myself. The kicker was this one spinner. It was the prettiest spinner you have ever laid your eyes on. The plastic fish was a shiny silver with long glittery rubber fins. I could tell that greasy dealer was impressed ’cause he was nearly licking his lips staring at it. He offered me thirty dollars. I told him now I wanted sixty. He said,

“Look I know you stole this stuff! I’ll give you thirty and that’s my final offer.” I said something clever like,

“I guess I’m gonna get real good at fishing, ’cause I’m keeping the spinner.” He didn’t like that and he told me to go on. I stuck around though. All I needed to do was bait him in. I acted like I was looking around his barn and jiggled that spinner in my hand as I looked. While I was looking around, the door to his shop came flying open and this big red-faced guy came storming in. I recognized his expression and I wondered what I had stolen from him. Behind him was this skinny old guy wearing overalls. It was the overalls that made me remember. I hid the tools and fishing rods behind a big shelf that was for sale, and I covered the tackle box with my coat. The red-faced guy charged straight for the dealer with his finger pointing right between his eyes. He said,

“You look here Phil, You quit buying stuff from these no-good kids!” A smart fella would have left, but something about the old guy interested me. I kept acting like I was looking at the stuff. The angry guy kept yelling at the dealer saying,“The only reason these kids keep stealing from everybody in town is ’cause they know they can sell it here and make a little money. My dad has worked hard all his life for everything he owns!”

I’ve heard that whole speech before. Men and women who worked hard for all they had and how their whole life was ruined ’cause their dumb stuff was taken away by some no-good kids. I always thought, why work hard when you can have others work for you? I don’t know. While I was laughing at the angry guy yelling at the dealer, I was caught off guard by the old guy. He came out of nowhere, standing right next to me! He said something along the lines of,

“It’s a shame isn’t it?”

“What is sir?” I asked, trying hard to hide the tackle box.

“It seems more and more folks around here are getting robbed. I always wondered why anyone would feel the need to take what’s not theirs.” That’s still got me thinking, why do I steal things? I don’t know I guess I kind of feel like I’ve been stolen from ever since I was born. My mom was stolen from me by her sickness, my house was stolen from me by fire, and my mean dad was stolen from me by prison. I guess I don’t want to feel like the only one who has been stolen from. Nah who am I kidding? I’m just lazy and rotten like my teachers said before I dropped out. I told that old guy,

“Beats me!”

“You know a lot of these folks who have been stolen from get real mad about losing their stuff. They act like their whole world is ending. I personally don’t think that’s what life is all about. All that stuff that was taken from me I can replace. Besides, I can’t take it with me to glory!” He stopped and kind of gritted his dentures together. “Although, there is one thing I’m gonna really miss,” he said.

“What’s that?” I asked, knowing full well what it was. The spinner. He told me this long sob story. I’m mad I’m still caught up on. He said his daddy gave it to him and he was sure it was magic or something. He said when his son was born he let him fish with it. He continued the tradition and let his granddaughter fish with it and now he got this little great-grandson that he was just about to let use it. I guess what got me about his story was that he let all the people who were important to him use his spinner. It must be nice to have people like that to share things with. He said something kind of different. He said, “What’s important is finding people you love and spending time with them. All this material stuff is going to go away. Love won’t though.”I guess what he said made me emotional, cause I kind of spilled my guts to him. I asked him,

“What if these kids who stole your stuff, don’t love nobody? What if nobody likes them ’cause they have screwed up too many times? I kinda wonder if stealing other people’s happiness is the only way they can have their own.” He then asked me something weird, that made me think he wasn’t listening at all, he asked,

“Do you go fishing much?”

"No," I said.

“If you are interested, stop by my place sometime and I’ll take you. My place is hard to miss. It’s the one on the corner of the main street with the red shed in the back.” I knew the red shed well. I had been there the night before. I just kind of nodded and then the red-faced guy told the old man to come on. Before they left the old guy said,

“Let me know if you find a silver spinner. If you find it I’ll let you fish with it.” It wasn’t too long after they walked out, that the dealer called me over. He said “I’ll give you forty-five for the bundle, on one condition. You have got to give me that spinner.”

I don’t know why I feel bad, I only got five less than I asked for. I mean, I started stealing when I was just eight years old, and never once have I felt like this. And look at me, sitting in my truck, a week later, talking to a stupid old fishing spinner that I stole back from a dealer. What I’m telling you for, you were there! That old guy messed me up. I am going to have to tell him what for when I go fishing with him.

…