"'Cause you know, they tag the shit with buckyballs now, one molecule in a million with a serial number and a checksum. You do something stupid, I get chopped."
I hadn't known. Didn't matter, my parents' house was legally mine, while they were up confabbing with their alien buds on the mothaship. "No worries."
"That'll be, uh, sixty-eight cents."
"Thirty."
"Sixty, firm."
"Fifty-four."
"Fifty-eight."
"Take it in trade?"
"Fricken Maxes! Tradesies? You're wastin' my time, lookin' for bootleg solvent, looking for trade and no cash? Get fucked, Maxes."
He starts to haw-up Tilly and I go, "Wait-wait-wait, I got some good stuff.
Everything must go, moving sale, you know?"