I’ve decided that the entire human collective passes through the door of a holiday bazaar in a single day, and everyone’s got a story. As I engage them about my books and writing, I also listen to their tales and am fascinated by all the amazing things I hear.
Last weekend, one man, definitely Native American, his hair in a long ponytail, his fleece jacket sporting buffalo images, stopped to speak with the vendor next to me. He was interested in her “totem” beaded zipper pulls. While they conversed, she openly stared at his heavy, ornate necklace and asked him permission to touch it, which he granted.
“What do you think it’s made of?” he asked her.
“Is it teeth or claws?” she ventured.
“Teeth.”
“Is it bear teeth?”
“Nope.”
She tried five or six more guesses. The man obviously enjoyed this game, his smile deepening and his eyes sparkling more each time he shook his head. Finally she gave up, and he turned to me. “Would you like to guess?
“It must be something really unusual,” I began. “I’ve been racking my brain since you two started talking, and can’t come up with any ideas she hasn’t already suggested…” I shrugged. “Why don’t you just tell us?”
“It’s donkey teeth,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Donkey teeth?” the vendor repeated.
He nodded, and before I could recover from my surprised stupor and start begging for the complete history of the necklace, he moved on to another table, leaving us both longing to hear the rest of his story.
“Well, that was certainly bizarre,” said my vendor friend.
I wholeheartedly agreed.