Joe's Seen Everything

Joe, the balding little man at the counter of Joe’s Litle Bit Of Everything Hock Shop had thought he’d seen it all.

There were three customers this morning.

The first, a burly fellow, purchased a portable fan, the kind you hold in your hand for extra coolness.

Joe thought, He just can’t cut down on his food. When he overeats, he sweats like a pig. So he needs that fan to cool him off.

The second, a lanky man in an overcoat, with collar raised, came into the shop precisely at 10, as he did for several weeks now.

His purchase was the same: A few old copies of those nudie mags Joe kept piled up in a corner of the shop.

Joe thought, Ha! I know you! You’re a member of the clergy. You think with that concealing collar you can fool people. I know your dirty little secret.

The third customer was one Joe did not recognize. He could have been Mister Average from Anywhere. There was nothing distinctive about his clothing or manner. He spent awhile perusing the objects in Joe’s shop.

“Excuse me,” the customer said, “I’ve never been in a place like this before. Can you help me with some purchases?”

“That’s what I’m here for!” said Joe.

“Well, let’s see, I’d like that revolver over there, those two stilettos, the ones with the longer blades, and that collection there, the fancy note writing paper with the distinctive decorations.”

Joe gathered the object for purchase, then took a good long look at the man, and pushed them away slightly.

“Don’t do it”, Joe said, “It’s not worth it!”

“Whatever are you talking about?” asked the customer

“Look. I’m a studier of mankind. I’ve been in this business a good long time. I know what you’re planning!”

“I don’t get you.”

“You’re going to use that gun to kill yourself, but you’re still unsure. You want those knives in event you lose your nerves but want to quickly slit your wrists. And you want that fancy note paper to write a real fancy farewell note for the world to see.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong!” the customer laughed. “I’m buying that gun to hang on my wall to remind me of my days as a dead man before the Lord rescued me. And these stilettos, see? When one is placed horizontally and one vertically, they make a perfect cross, the symbol of my redeemer.”

“And the fancy paper?”

"I want those because they are the finest I’ve ever seen, and each day, I want to write a love letter to my God for His forgiveness.”