Not for sale at any price

Years ago, while exploring a ghost town near Virginia City, I walked into a beat-up  building with a sign in front that simply read “Goods.”  Inside was the oddest assortment of supplies I’d ever seen. Stacked on wooden shelves that had never been dusted were bags of dry dog food, piles of canned human food, rat poison, ammunition and bags of sand.



Cafe on Highway 50 which advertised free coffee for bikers

Under a decorated but dried up Christmas tree hung upside down from the rafters in the corner of the “store” were three dead cats frozen in a state of ire by a taxidermist.  A handmade sign in front of the cats made it very clear that they were NOT FOR SALE AT ANY PRICE.  The owner emerged in a cloud of smoke from the back a few minutes later and scowled at me “Whatcha want?”  He looked like Keith Richards. My inspiration for FLIPKA.

2 thoughts on “Not for sale at any price

    1. If I’d taken a picture, the storekeep probably would have shot me! According to the SF Chronicle there’s a mental institution in Las Vegas that is giving indigent patients one-way tickets to California! Ah Nevada!

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