By Lorna Young

Copyright, Lorna Young, August 21, 2025

Cheryl was hopeful she could buy a used manual typewriter. A middle-aged man was having a garage sale. In his advertisement, he mentioned having one on hand.

She was delighted!

Once arriving at the sale with a member of the choir, and a cousin of hers, she caught up with the owner and he showed her the typewriter. It was medium blue and ‘Dottikins’ stickers were all over it.

They quickly agreed on a price and Cheryl gave him cash.

“Now I want those stickers back.”

She looked at him. How was she going to pull those stickers, which were pictures of an animated kids’ series from twenty or more years ago. That would be time wasted and difficult. Besides, if he wanted them, why didn’t he take them off himself?

But she really wanted the typewriter.

“Bring them back today.”

The man selling the typewriter was a psychologist that worked only with adults. Why would he be interested in kids’ relics.

She gave him a knod, grabbed the vintage office equipment and left.

Then her get-to-the-point cousin, Lynell, saw the item and spoke up. “Where are you going to get ink ribbon for this thing? And what about parts? What if a key fell off? You know they don’t make this model anymore?”

Furthermore, her choir partner, Angie, got out of the car during the purchase ordeal and began walking to the church, alone, in the middle of the street, attempting to go to choir practice because it was taking too long.

Cheryl’s car had a hole in the muffler, and the gray-black exhaust was coming out of the side. She picked up Angie on the way to choir practice. Angie was overcome by the smoke because Cheryl’s car was a convertible. Lynell’s eyes were watering heavily. After choir practice her cousin kept telling Cheryl that the typewriter was not a good buy, but she said she “had to have it.” The both of them spent an hour removing all the “Dottikins” stickers. They were in pieces, but he was going to get all of them. Angie said, “Girls you were going to get every last one off even if it was as large as a tiny fingernail!” They all headed back to the garage sale and Cheryl handed the bag to the psychologist. He looked in the bag and all of them thought he was going to have a heart attack! He said, “My poor Dottikins! What have they done to you?”

They looked at each other and giggled under their breaths. He said, “I should ask for my typewriter back!”

But Cheryl said, “Nope! All sales are final!” So, all of them left him coughing from the fumes of her convertible’s exhaust.