BEAUTY SHOP TALK

by

Vicki Charmaine Bunch

Things in Axel may never be the same after the antique appraisers came to town last week. Fortunes were discovered and others were exposed as fakes. The fabulous diamond tiara presented to Minnie Ledbetter on her 60th birthday turned out to be rhinestones. Davy Crockett's coon skin cap, the pride of the Crenshaw family, turned out to have been made from a raccoon that died in 1954. And George Washington's false teeth, as well as Napoleon's underwear (which Ivana Tubbs bragged about constantly), were revealed to be frauds.

Meanwhile, my best friend Brandi found out that a worn-out corset she bought for a dollar at a garage sale in Mineral Wells could fetch $30,000 at auction. Axel's whole class system has been turned upside-down.

I take secret delight in watching the hoity-toity get their just desserts. The Ming vase Minnie Ledbetter unearthed at an antique shop in New Orleans turned out to be only five years old. Her Tiffany lamp came from Wal-Mart. And her seven foot tall knight in shining armor is from a junkyard in Brownsville.

But Aunt Oleta's chrome dinette turned out to be worth a fortune. As did Uncle Farb's polyester leisure suit and their 8 track tape of Burl Ives.

I couldn't wait to see whether any of my trash was another man's treasure. But deciding what to take to the appraisal was like trying to chose who's the cutest--Stormy or Destinee or Jasper. Would it be the clown shoes or the Zippo lighter? The naked mannequin or the rusty switchblade? An old Milky Way or Grandma's wig? Sonny wanted to take his platform shoes and Farrah Fawcett poster. We fought about it all night. Finally, we decided on Puffy, a poodle I made out of dry cleaners' bags over 30 years ago in Vacation Bible School. And our autographed picture of Lawrence Welk.

The minute we arrived we wished we had brought something else.

"I'm going home to get the outhouse," Sonny said.

"Get the plastic rooster, too," I said, surveying the crowd. Everybody had brought their very best stuff. Earlene Whitehead had a moose head, a stuffed squirrel and Tupperware bowl of full of wax fruit. Mayor Buddy Poteet had a bowling trophy, a bust of Elvis, and a tube of Brylcreme. Principal Mulrooney was carrying a pair of Earth Shoes, a Jimi Hendrix album and a roach clip.

"Is that one of those little plastic giraffes they used to stick in your straw at Connie's Uptown?" I asked Sister Modesta Steptoe who was also holding onto a pair of lime green hot pants.

"Yes, it is. I have over a thousand of them but I was afraid they'd get broke if I brought more than just the one."

"These giraffes are worth $100 a piece," said the appraiser.

"I wish I had kept my monkeys," I sighed, remembering all the good stuff I had let slip through my fingers over the years. The mushroom candle. The fish-net hose. The ticket stub from "Paint Your Wagon."

Then Sonny showed up with a stuffed frog playing the violin and a mug that says "World's Greatest Dad." "I can tell. This is our ticket," he said, holding up the frog.

"If only you had kept your monkeys," said the appraiser.