Ten times, Ruth asked him about the anchor.
“Did you find out what we could get for it?”
It was a huge rusty relic from an old ship.
Last time she dispatched him to Sotheby’s
to be humiliated because she and her daughter
had scrubbed off the patina
with tooth brushes and bronze polish.
Rendering the sculpture of St. Michael
by a disciple of Rodin virtually worthless.
The Roman oil lamp was a hit,
and the prick who did the appraisal
told him to hold onto it
with condescension usually reserved for a turd.
“I looked on Ebay, anchors like this go for a few hundred bucks” said Jack.
“Put it up on Ebay then.” said Ruth.
“I’ll give you a cut.”
“Sure” he said, knowing full well
this would be another exercise in futility.
MR Stuik 2018