Auctioneers creep me out. I don’t know exactly why. Maybe it’s because I’m afraid they want to eat me. Maybe it’s because they remind me of my former life in Iowa. Auctioneers are big in Iowa. Not big as in “popular,” but big as in “gigantic.” I think they’re secretly robots.
All true auctioneers must have 5 things:
- cowboy hat (covers up massive head and bald spot)
- gavel (for whackin’ so drunk rednecks know when to stop yelping)
- severe stuttering problem (haaaaa-m’na, ha-m’na, ha-m’na, ha-m’na, SOLD to the drunk redneck in the cowboy hat!)
- body odor
- deviated septum
This brings me to another point: I’ve only seen auctioneers when they’re auctioneerin’. Or have I?
Hypothetically, if an auctioneer weren’t in auctioneer mode, he might not creep me out so much. But I’m not really sure, as I’ve never seen one that wasn’t in auctioneer mode. At least, I don’t think so. Then again, how would I know? And if he isn’t auctioneerin’, is he still an auctioneer?
Holy crap, I am seriously freaked out right now.