Philip Ribbault disliked auctioning Japanese erotic carvings. It was like waiting for the second boot to drop; as soon the artistically-crafted genitals were paraded in front of the bidders you waited for the stifled snigger or suppressed snort. Until his first auction he hadn’t realised how many ways a penis could be represented in wood or stone. Normally he’d say no, but Masterton asked him to come and what Masterton wanted, Masterton got. ‘Charity’ was all he’d said.
To make matters worse, Masterton and his business nemesis, Outwood McGee were competing for this highly polished, bulbous-veined oak monstrosity.
‘Do I hear 15?’
They both glared at him. He knew he had to drop the hammer for Masterton and here was the hesitation he was looking for. That was when Dolores, manning the phone bids said, ‘Someone called, Phil.’
Who was phoning in a bid, now? He glared at the woman. She stared blankly back. ‘Well?’ he demanded.
She shook her head frantically and indicated, with her eyes, where Masterton sat.
Damn. He knocked his hammer and said, ‘Sold to…’
Uproar. Somewhere his mind registered, ‘15’. He took in Masterton, on his feet, furious and McGee, leaning back, grinning. McGee had bid and he had dropped the hammer on his boss and path to success.
He was dead; no, worse – a laughing stock, an out-of-work laughing stock. He spun to Dolores. ‘Why’d you say some called?’
‘I didn’t’, sir.’
‘You said ‘Someone called, Phil’.’
‘I wasn’t talking to you, sir.’ She indicated her mobile. ‘I was telling my husband the name of a plumber. It’s someone called Phil. I wouldn’t call you Phil, sir.’
A plumber. After the rodding through he was about to receive, the last thing he’d need was a plumber.
This story comes courtesy of the latest Microcosms prompt: Someone called Phil, charity auction, comedy: click here to find the prompt and give it a whirl