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"Holy good God ALLMIGHTY." Something like that, at least.
I'm sorry... I was truly agog and that's all I could say as I stared at the price on the flyer outside of the grand house on Main Street, formerly, and quite affectionately, the old bat house kittycorner to the gas station.
As I strained for composure while at the same time struggling to extract one of the sheets from the box, a man, bedecked in a straw cowboy hat, yelled at me from the upstairs window.
"What do you think you're doing?!?"
Yeah, he may have overheard my less than muffled expression of utter disbelief.
I looked back down again and said with all the composure I could muster, "Just getting one of these here fliers."
He mumbled something I didn't catch. He had only a year ago bought the old place on the cheap, thrown a hundred fiddy thousand or so at it, and moved in. The price he was asking for the place was stuck in my craw like a saguaro cactus arm, so I wasn't very focused on his speech.
Riding my bike away, I shouted cordially, "Enjoy your money, " as he grunted something else, probably some secret incantation of ill-will gleaned from the dark texts of some fraternal business order, or, more likely, something more along the lines of "Enjoy your poverty, sucker."
I reckon I do, and I guess I will keep doing just that, as long as types like him don't drive our property taxes so damned high so that I can't even afford to live in poverty around here.