Stay Away from the Barn

Monday is "Case Lot Day" at Danny's Auction Barn, where you never know what they'll be selling.
All you know is that IF you win the bid, you'd better be prepared to buy the entire quantity of whatever the heck you just won.
Yeah, so we went to Danny's Auction Barn yesterday and we did okay, especially since I tried to prevent any major mistakes by repeating over and over on the car ride up there: "Don't buy any crap; don't buy any crap," and, like I said, we were doing just fine until they got to the cellophane wrapped tiny apple-shaped wicker baskets with miniature lime green notepads inside and he was trying to get twenty five cents a piece for them, only I thought he already had a twenty-five cent bid so I yelled out "thirty cents" and he didn't hear me, I guess, because he then lowered the price to twenty cents, which he called out hopefully and I yelled, extra loud this time, "Sure!"
The auctioneer looked right at me and said, "It's about time" and I wanted to protest, "You didn't even hear me when I bid 'thirty cents'!" but that was too long a sentence for an ongoing auction and so I had the bid at twenty cents and he kept trying to get anyone to outbid me, but no one did, which meant I was the proud new owner of twenty-four apple shaped wicker baskets with lime green, kidney bean shaped small pads of paper inside and his next question was: "How many orders do you want?
They are $4.80 a box and we have four boxes of them," and I, still feeling like I was getting some sort of deal, winning them for a mere twenty cents apiece, shouted back: "I'll take them all!"
Later, at home, I punctured the cellophane wrap on ninety-two miniature, apple shaped wicker baskets, which were made in China and had some sort of reddish brown paint flaking off them, rich in lead for sure, and whose lime green pads of paper smelled like mold, (in spite of the fact that each was individually wrapped in sharp shiny plastic), and I wondered where on earth they had found these things, and if they were some long lost leftovers from the flood that swamped Rhode Island last March and did they just now resurface from the deep dark corners of someone's storage facility, and my God they smelled incredibly bad, which meant there was nothing I could do except carefully pack all ninety-six baskets and ninety-six pads of paper back into the four cardboard boxes and carry them, in the rain, to the laughing mouth of the dumpster outside.