In Washington D.C., there is an obscure (shady-looking) flea market on North Capitol. Your average used stuff, ranging from unwanted art to lamps to mirrors to dilapidated chairs to vacuum cleaners. Nothing particularly eye-catching. . . except for this:
I. Need. This.
Every time I pass this beauty, all the other used goods fade away and I am fixated.
For my birthday this year, a couple of close friends actually inquired how much it cost because they had plans to buy it for me.
It wasn’t for sale.
Still, that didn’t deter me from asking myself a few days ago. Apparently the owner claims that “it’s like his brother.”
I don’t even know what that means. Since the shopkeeper refused to part with it, I pressed on in conversation hoping to find out where he acquired it from.
“It just showed up one day.”
What the fuck?! I want a six foot tall, 48 pound, Frankenstein’s monster statue to just show up in my house one day!
But with the power of social networking and having friends who are adept at searching the interwebz, my monster has been found.
There are other monsters and Halloween-theme statues as well.
But nothing compares to my menu-wielding monster.
I will have it one day. And mine will be sporting a sombrero.