- A baby turtle
- Soft Serve Ice Cream
- A tow strap
- Knock off Coach Handbags
- A Chicken
- Old glassware
- old paperback books
- antique furniture
- Little Debbie Cakes
- Boston Terrier Puppy
And just about anything else you can think of.
Who knew you could go to one place and purchase all of these things?
This was hardly a typical shopping experience.
I saw all types of people buying only the highest quality junk.
At the flea market.
Why do they call it a flea market anyway?
Of all the junk I saw for sale, I didn’t see any fleas. Although it’s entirely possible that I missed the fleas. Between the people watching and the mouth wiping I did. As I wiped soft serve ice cream off of Alex’s mouth, chin, shirt and toes, I saw something I don’t think I was supposed to see.
And, I really wish I hadn’t saw it.
Because it grossed me out.
And it might gross you out too.
So, if your eating, I’ll give you a minute to finish.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
I witnessed a woman (wearing a shirt that said, “If mama ain’t happy ain’t nobody happy”) walk by a table, pick up a wooden back scratcher, ram it down her shirt, scratch her back, and put it back on the table.
I hope that made mama happy.
Cause it made this mama question her decision to visit the flea market on this day.
For starters. The simple fact that a used back scratcher is for sale at a flea market is straight-up nasty. Think for one second about the number of hands that have touched that thing. Not to mention the number of shirts it has navigated to scratch dirty, nasty, strange backs. And then it’s placed on a table with a little square pink neon sticker that reads $1.00.
Are you kidding me? Seriously, one pitiful dollar.
You could just throw the thing away.
Or if you really, really need a back scratcher, go to the dollar store and buy a pasta spoon.
Or nag your man like I do.
Next, is there a person out there that would pay a dollar for a used back scratcher? I guess maybe someone with an itch.
Although, I’m still scratching my head (not with a back scratcher) wondering what kind of person would pick up a used back scratcher at a flea market, scratch their nasty, skanky back with it and then put it back. I’m telling you, I just about puked. And I might have rolled my eyes.
I can tell you with 100% certainty that even if my back had 392 ants crawling on it, I would not for any reason pick up that back scratcher.
And um, I wouldn’t have asked mama to scratch my back either.
Cause I’d take 392 ants any day of the week.
Over mama’s nasty hands.
I’m just sayin.