Lucy shuffled through the antique game cartridges like a bulldozer in a mass grave. She didn’t have time to care for the discarded. She needed the game that would save her stream: Ninja Gaiden for the Nintendo Entertainment System.
This was her third yard sale today, searching for a game to reengage her viewers, but she struck out everywhere. There were lots of old games, but they were all the popular games. She needed something more obscure, something to show her gaming skills. Engagement was key to stop bleeding subscribers, and very difficult retro games always led to a hot stream.
While she struck out at the other two yard sales, this one’s sign promised big things. A pollen-yellow sign with jagged black letters said, “Life Changing Yard Sale.” She didn’t expect her life to be changed, she just hoped to save her live stream. Unfortunately, the Life Changing Yard Sale didn’t have Ninja Gaiden or any other obscure, difficult retro games.
Lucy wondered, why not just call it a Moving Sale, or an I Got Divorced Sale, or even an I died and My Family Doesn’t Want My Stuff Sale? “Life Changing” is dramatic, even by her sixteen-year-old, public high school standards.
Regardless of the drama, the sign worked. More people joined the crowded front lawn of the small ranch-style house. Chaos reigned over the scattered mismatched blankets. Old ladies bickered and swarmed over them, arguing who saw what first. Junk of all kinds was thrown over the bunched-up blankets except one: a burgundy patchwork quilt covered with well-organized toys. On this blanket, a gray rubber container overflowed with video games.
Lucy sighed as she checked the last game cartridge in the bin. She hadn’t heard of it, but the cute turtle on the cover told her it wasn’t what she needed tonight. She dropped it back into the bin. A plastic crack came from under the other games. Her hopes sparked. Did she miss the treasure she needed for tonight’s live stream? Lucy shoved the games aside. At the bottom she found something that didn’t belong with the video games.
A boxy VHS tape gleamed in the midday sun, pristine and bright white; not black like most VHS tapes. No yellowed stain from age or smoking or coffee on it, just a smeared thumb print near the black marker title. Lucy examined a black or deep crimson smear on the case, unsure of the color, but certain it was a thumbprint. The title on the tape was handwritten and scrawled with the same care as for the video games in the bin.
“Wow! I can’t believe you found that.” Her mom, Trudy, helped dig through the bins. “Is that an original?” She laughed.
“What is it?” Lucy waved the VHS tape like an ancient artifact.
“It’s a game. Well, it was a game.” Trudy took the tape. “Yeah, Captain Light and the World of Darkness.” She read the marker title, keeping her own thumb clear of the smear. “This came out when I was a kid. You played it on your VCR long before the Nintendo.”
Other shoppers moved around them. One old lady bumped Lucy out of the way so she could explore the game bins. Probably looking for potential eBay sales. None of these games were worth anything, but rude old biddies never cared about any of that. They just wanted the bargain.
Lucy searched again for whoever ran the yard sale. No one checked on the customers as they gathered armloads of junk, from lamps to velvet paintings. At the edge of the sale, there was a table with a money jar on it. Lucy watched the house to see if anyone came out. Maybe they just went in for a drink and were on their way back out? But that didn’t feel quite right. Lucy had been here for over an hour. No sign of anyone. A few people shoved money in the jar as they left, but most just left. Rude.
Trudy dug through a bin beside the games and pulled out a plastic spaceship that looked like a scorpion. It had a red body, boney red legs that curled around your forearm, and a handle that dropped from under the cockpit with a yellow trigger. Lucy examined the toy to see how it worked. She found an empty battery compartment and an infrared emitter like a TV remote.
“Was this one of those light gun games?” Lucy asked as she tried the ship on her wrist. She gave the trigger a few squeezes. She felt the spring’s tight resistance. Turning the ship over, the number 29 was written in the same handwriting as on the white tape. The handwriting on the ship and tape were jagged and messy, while the yard sale sign was crisp, almost calligraphic. She stared at the yard sale sign for a moment longer. Whoever wrote that didn’t write this.
“What’s 29?”
“I don’t know.” Trudy looked for more treasures. “But that game didn’t stay on the shelves long. It got wrapped up in the whole Satanic Panic crap from the 80s. Disappeared fast. I wonder if there’s anything more around. You need something great for tonight?” Trudy waved the tape. “This is something different. It’s retro. It’s unusual, like, I’m betting your viewers don’t know it. And when you show them a VCR, it’s going to blow their minds.” Trudy’s eyes popped open as her hands contained the imaginary explosion from her brain.
“Yeah, that might be cool. Do we have a…” Lucy searched for what her mom said. “One of those VCR things?”
“Yep. Your dad has one in the basement. He loves all that old tech stuff.”
“You know where?” Lucy thought about the junk piles in the basement, aka her dad’s treasures. With him away on business, Lucy didn’t know if anyone else could understood the chaos of his organizational system.
“I’ll find it. Want to get it?”
Lucy smiled. It’s not Ninja Gaiden, but it might be what she needed to hook more viewers in her live stream. “Yeah, I can’t find a price.”
“Probably fell off.” Trudy shuffled through the game box again, now competing with the rude old lady. “These look like they’re about five bucks each, so we’ll leave ten.”
Lucy noticed a small figure inside the scorpion ship. She popped open the frost-blue plastic cockpit. The sour tang of spoiled milk hit her nose, knotting her stomach. Thick spit lumped in her throat as she pulled the cockpit open to see the figure inside. The revulsion at what she saw squeezed a faint whine from her gasping chest.
She wasn’t sure if the face had melted or was chewed by an overly anxious dog, but it was mutilated in streaks of slashed plastic. One eye bulged wide, painted infected pus-yellow with a red dot in the center, while the other was proportionate but black. The mouth curled in a knowing smile. His clothes were molded plastic, high tech as if robotic, but the paint had chipped away long ago. A thick grease covered the figure. Lucy shivered at the idea of touching it and wondered if whatever that oily gunk was was what smelled so bad. She shut the cockpit with a thunderous click that silenced the yard sale around her.
“We better get home. If I’m going to do this, I’ll need setup time for the stream tonight.”
“Sounds good. I’ll just put this,” Trudy held up the ten-dollar bill, “in the jar over there.”
They pushed through the other shoppers and left the Life Changing Yard Sale feeling their lives were no different from when they arrived.
