ENTRY 011: BARTER BATTLE
Dear Diary,
If there’s one thing pawnbrokers like me love more than gold, it’s drama. Especially when it's gold-related drama.
Today, two customers walked into my shop at the exact same time and made a beeline for the same item: a cracked amulet sitting in the discount bin.
Now, I don’t like to get involved in disputes over inventory—it’s bad for business and worse for my nerves. But these two weren’t exactly subtle. The first guy, a wiry rogue with shifty eyes (as if there's any other kind), grabbed the amulet like it owed him money. The second, a towering fighter with a chip on his shoulder the size of a boulder, snatched it right back.
“Back off, shorty,” the fighter growled. “I saw it first.”
“Your slow reflexes aren’t my problem,” the rogue shot back.
I cleared my throat, hoping to defuse the situation. “Gentlemen, there’s no need to fight. It’s five gold. The first one to pay gets it.”
Neither moved.
“What’s so special about this amulet, anyway?” I asked, mostly to fill the awkward silence.
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“Legend says it enhances your luck in battle,” the fighter said, puffing out his chest.
“Legends say a lot of things,” the rogue scoffed. “It’s probably just shiny junk. But it’s my shiny junk.”
With neither willing to back down, they started haggling—with each other, mind you.
“I’ll give you five silver to let me have it,” the rogue said.
“Make it ten,” the fighter countered.
“I will put it to better use!”
“You can't even use the sorry excuse for a brain you have between your ears!”
I watched, half-amused, as they descended into a bidding war over who would get to buy the amulet. (Hey, it was a slow day!) By the time they reached the astronomical offer of 50 gold (for a cracked, probably useless amulet), the rogue threw up his hands.
“Fine, you win,” he muttered.
The fighter grinned triumphantly and turned to me. “I’ll take it!”
“Five gold, ” I said plainly, holding out my hand.
The grin froze. The guy patted down his pockets. “Uh… I might need a loan.”
The rogue burst out laughing. “You were bidding fifty and you don’t even have five?”
The fighter scowled, then turned to the rogue. “Alright, lend me five gold.”
The rogue stopped laughing immediately. “I... uh, I don’t think I have five gold, either.”
I stared at both of them, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. “So neither of you can afford it?”
The rogue shrugged. “Guess not.”
The fighter hesitated, then sheepishly added, “Uh, maybe next time?”
And just like that, they both left. The amulet—cracked, dusty, and thoroughly unimpressive—sat exactly where it had been all day.
Some battles are won, others are lost, and then there are the ones where everyone loses—except me. Those two idiots made my day without spending a single coin.
Yours in profit,
Garren