That shit is a white heat. Checking back every few minutes. It’s all about defeating all the other bidders and cheating the auctioneer. There go the bids. Forty dollars. Fifty-five. Higher. Seventy-five, ninety. Something was telling me to stop. I wouldn’t have an extra ninety bucks for weeks. A hundred and fifty. All this tension throbbing at my throat, Walter. One fifty-five, one seventy-five. The other dude topped off at two fifty and, Walter, I’m at three fifty and thought that was it. No one bid for a while. In the last minutes someone bid four seventy-five and I hit back with five fifty.
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Rashid seems like he might have Bi-Polar Disorder.
