Robert Olen Butler (born January 20, 1945)
From the short story Fair
Warning
Perhaps my fate was sealed when I sold my
three-year-old sister. My father had taken me to a couple of cattle auctions
not minding that I was a girl – this was before Missy was born, of course –
and I’d loved the fast talk and the
intensity of the whole thing. So the day after my seventh birthday party, where
Missy did a song for everyone while I set alone my chin on my hand, and meditated behind my still uncut birthday
cake, it seemed to me that here was a charming and beautiful little asset that
I had no further use for and could be liquidated to good effect. So I gathered
a passel of children from our gated community in Houston, kids with serious
money, and I had Missy do a bit of her song once more, and I said, “ladies and
gentlemen, no greater or more complete perfection of animal beauty ever stood
on two legs than the little girl who stands before you. She has prizewinning
breeding and good teeth. She will neither hook, kick, strike, nor bite you. She
is the pride and joy of and greatest treasure of the Dickerson family and she
is now available to you. Who will start the bidding for this future blue-ribbon
winner? Who will offer fifty cents? Fifty cents. Who’ll give me fifty?” I saw
nothing but blank stares before me. I’d gotten all these kids together but I
still hadn’t quite gotten them into the spirit of the thing. So I looked one of
these kids in the eye and said, “You, Tony Speck. Aren’t your parents rich
enough to give you an allowance of fifty cents?” He made a hard, scrunched-up
face and he said, “A dollar.” And I was off. I finally sold her for six dollars
and twenty-five cents to a quite girl up the street whose daddy was in oil. She
was an only child, a thing I made her feel sorry about when the bidding slowed
down at five bucks. …
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