Just over the last few months, I have been working on a voluntary basis in a local charity shop down in the stock room. I sort through mountains of tatty old clothes and things in order to make a few bob for the welfare of animals. It’s not the most stimulating thing that I could do to occupy myself but I’m glad to do it as it gets me out of the house and doing something useful. I have seen all manner of things in this short time, kindly donated by the public and gratefully received by us . Clown suits, a hypnotic hair restoral kit entitled , “From bald to hairy” and in one case, something for the ladies which prompted me to wash my hands thoroughly after handling it.
Brown suits which I wouldn’t bury an old man in, white suits that would look good on a ghost and green suits that not even St. Patrick would consider chic. Wet suits, pet suits and “wouldn’t wear it for a bet” suits. I have never encountered such a cavalcade of cack in all of my life. All of these items have passed through the stock room and into the realms of the charity shop showcase over which I preside. I really felt that I had seen it all until this morning. A chap came in and bought a set of stereo speakers in as an offering…and a box of live ammunition.
That’s right, a big box of bullets!
All live and ready to pop! Obviously, that’s very generous of him but there’s not much call for bullets on the more gentil end of the high street. I wondered whether he might consider offering them to a more shady branch of the charity shops in downtown L.A? The store manager went a rather deathly pale colour and held the box of twenty bullets at arm’s length. She wasn’t quite sure what to do next. Eventually, she decided to take them to the Police Station and hand them in, which she did and somewhat gingerly at that. So, now,I really feel as if I have seen it all. I mean, who could possibly top a box of bullets as a donation? Who knows? I await the inevitable his ‘n’ her’s set of grenades or a “Royal Baby commemorative Flame thrower” in the up and coming weeks. I’ll keep you posted.