After the conversation, the bargaining began, with old George taking the lead in offering a buy-back price.
"This sword indeed has a notable history, but it’s an On Blade. Not many people want to buy it, how about $6000? That could already buy you a set of underwater photography equipnt and a wetsuit."
"Don’t bluff , it’s worth at least $20,000." The custor said.
"Alright, $8000."
"$20,000." The custor insisted.
Old George gasped, scratched his head, and donned a pained expression, deliberated for a mont, then nodded in agreent, "Alright, maybe my friend would want to buy it, $20,000! Deal!"
Not you... being so quick?
You must have made a huge profit, right?
Allen Zhang began to doubt life.
That guy George made at least $20,000!
The custor happily accepted the offer, George took the On Blade, issued a receipt, and paid $20,000 in cash.
"Custor, what would you like to sell?" George was in a great mood after making a lot of money, and looked at the next custor with a pleasant expression.
The other party was slightly overweight, with sparse hair, dressed in a black suit.
The other party smiled slightly: "What I have to sell is sothing you’ve definitely never seen before."
"Is that so? I’m all eyes!" George beca even more curious.
Allen Zhang also stopped by curiously to observe.
The custor took out a black bundle, and upon opening it revealed sothing that looked like a dark, wind-dried piece of jerky.
"This is a piece of an Indian’s scalp, and Jewish circumcision foreskin tissue..."
Unexpectedly, the custor’s shocking words instantly stunned everyone present.
"oh! shit! Buddy! I can’t take this thing!! Take it away!!"
George was dumbfounded, feeling a tingling on his scalp, he put on a mask of pain and waved his hand, "This is a pawnshop, not so prison execution ground! Skin bank! If you want to see my shop close down, and watch be dragged out for execution, experience what it’s like to be shot in the back by Indians, then by all ans sell it to !"
The custor sulkily packed it up, saying: "My ancestors were part of the prospectors involved in the Hostead Act."
"Then your whole family really deserves to go to hell!"
George said sternly: "I’m not buying this thing, there’s no market for it, maybe you could try selling it online? Maybe so extremist, or an Indian missing his ancestors, would buy it! Of course, at the sa ti, you might want to start preparing a coffin and a grave! Write on the tombstone ’The Descendant of Sin and Punishnt’! I’ll offer you a flower on Thanksgiving."
"... Buddy, I was just trying to make so money, you really don’t need to be so harsh on ." The custor sulkily packed up the scalp and turned to leave.
Allen Zhang was also a bit bothered.
Seriously, what kind of stuff are you daring to sell? Don’t you consider Indians as people? It’s not like there are no Indian reservations in California.
And that piece of Jewish circumcision skin... What did you collect it for?
Is it fun?
You have one yourself.
It wasn’t long before the next custor’s turn ca, apparently an old custor of the shop, very familiar with George, also an older gentleman.
He greeted George warmly with a hug, laughing: "George, I’ve already brought over that 1961 Beechcraft V35 plane. That’s a good find, even featured on the cover of a 1960 magazine, you know! It can go to auction."
"Let’s go out and check the goods first." George imdiately showed interest and took the guy outside to see, with Allen Zhang following out the door, watching as staff pulled back the black tarp, revealing a red and white propeller plane.
"The original model of the plane took its first flight on December 22, 1945, and went into production in 1947. The distinctive features of this model are the unique V-tail and retractable landing gear, with a 165 horsepower Continental piston engine for power. With safety in mind, after all these years, only the sa model of engine and propeller have been replaced; the rest is original."
The custor talked eloquently, "The selling price is $75,000 and it’s yours."
George’s initially smiling face instantly turned dark.
With an expressionless face, he drew out the Dragon Slayer Sword and said, " $40,000."
"Hissss..." Now it was the custor’s turn to gasp, cursing: "You, you heartless bastard!"
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