Images flash across the screen. The arid desert, flashing neon signs, monstrous cement overpasses, conventional green highway signs, endless Chevy logos, knives being sorted, jewelry being cleaned, crisp, green cash being counted. These are the typical daily sights of a Las Vegas pawnshop.
An older man emerges with a rusty, cream gas pump from the 1930’s. Seeming to have been “beat to hell” would be an understatement. The tall, lean structure resembles more of a telephone booth then a gas pump and even looks better suited for a space expedition than an earthly duty. Its faded “Wayne Gas Company” logo, red lettering, and dials seem to speak with a tired sigh as the pump listens to itself being ridiculed for appearing to have come from the “bottom of the ocean.” Reeds of grass and hay protrude through the pump’s door; apparently this pump has a live-in resident. “Yep, the 1930’s were the good old days” the gas pump says, “when gas was $0.32/gallon.” The pump’s sorry condition is sold to Rick’s shop for $100.
The famous “Strip,” retired football jerseys, and gold records flash across the screen.
A 1930’s slot machine is placed on the glass display case counter. Is this episode secretly themed? While being shorter than expected to the famous cash register style of this era, its sound condition is readily seen. Jokes are even made that if the item is bought, Rick should also receive the old nickels that are still inside the slot machine. Its dingy, dirty, bronze exterior is the sign of a well-loved item. Or, the cleanliness and habits of bar-goers from back in the day. Smells of beer, hard liquor, and vomit permeate through the computer screen. Surprisingly, the slot machine indicates that if you spin the jackpot, mints will be dispensed. Rick and the Old Man explain that this was a way to overcome gambling restrictions because the bartender would then slip the winnings under the counter, along with the mints. Where is the man in the penguin suite to hand over the winnings? The dials are in pristine condition. The glossiness of the oranges, bananas, and cherries, along with their bright colors, resemble to menus from Mary Poppins. Its owner wants $2000. Too high for the stingy Rick. An offer for $800 is made. After an awkward, tense silence, the decision is made to pawn the slot machine for $500.
Corey, “Big Hoss,” shouts across the store holding a small, lime green cup. He doesn’t know what the item is. Uh oh. How unprofessional. Red-faced Rick fires back. It’s Faberge crystal, lead based, but still safe. Yikes. Corey instructs the potential buyer not to drink out of it. Ouch, not good for a sale! Rick, as cliché as ever, lays down the law; he will quiz the arrogant Corey on random items in the store. If he fails, he works the graveyard shift. If he wins, he gets $2500. Um, wow. Who wouldn’t like to be talking about $2500 like its $10?! The Old Man is the official judge and the shop’s “village idiot,” Chumlee, looks on. A box of glasses sits on the table. Their bright, vivid colors and bubble designs are something right out of a cartoon. A small Russian sword with black and gold scroll etching. A French Boxing fighting belt with red and gold lettering and etching that resemble the smoke trails of onlookers from the 1940’s. What appears to be one of the first bobble-head dolls from Japan; but its blue eyes reveal an entirely different past and probably the ever-apparent inner workings of discrimination. Corey fails the quiz. And, as monotonic as ever, the Old Man instructs Corey that Rick will have to accompany him at the graveyard shift since the idea of the quiz and their “bitching and moaning” is ridiculous. I wonder how much the producers coyly script part of this show.
Three bayonets from World War II are brought in by a returning customer. Their archaic stamping and worn blades as well as the “tree-saw” teeth on one of the knives an another’s upward-pointing blade, make your organs want to run for cover. Supposedly these weapons were used in the famous Battle of the Bulge. Oh the blood that these knives must have seen. $1500 is the price the gentleman wants. Rick, as usual is skeptical. One of his many “experts” is brought in. After careful examining, the blades are all authentic and not made my some random dude in a garage. However, they are not uncommon souvenirs from Germany. $300 is offered because the looming “profitability” Gods decide all. The seller decides to keep the knives for his grandchildren. “Huh?” comes to mind.
Oh well, as they say, “all’s well that ends well.”
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