Over and Out

There wasn't much left at the yard sale by the time I arrived. A kid's bike helmet. A dog bowl. I bought the single walkie-talkie, price one pound. Somehow its being completely useless didn't make that feel any less of a bargain. At home I changed the batteries and saw the light come on, and that was that, I supposed. But almost straight away it crackled into life with a message I couldn't make out. "Receiving," I replied, "Please identify. Over." It was worth a pound to talk that way. A moment later the voice was back: "I just got this walkie talkie from some kid for 50p." I threw mine at the wall, and the fresh batteries rolled away. He didn't even say "Over."