What price memories

I have often been outraged. But I can't remember the last time I actually gasped out loud in expression. US$25 for a photo. You've GOT to be fucking kidding me. My gasp makes the fat photographer lower his voice and confidentially tell me he'll wing a good deal for me. If I take all the photos, he'll give me a discount on the price. A single CD sells for US$100, but he'll do me a deal and I can have 2 CD's for US$150. You've got to be fucking kidding me. My genteel upbringing ensures it's only my eyes that voice the less than gentle disbelief at his generous offer. The photos are gorgeous. The animals wet and shiny, the smile splitting my face genuine, the sun brilliant off my hot pink bikini and the water stunning. Fuck! I really want those photos. Unfortunately, a weak moment has my eyes communicating that to the thief. Clearly, he can smell my yearning, and starts making me all sorts of silly offers. I keep a ear cocked as I scroll through the images, Michelle so utterly endearing as she perches (rather heavily) on our shoulders, smiling at the memory of her leaning over to kiss me repeatedly while that wasn't the deal, her liquid brown eyes, all melty like chocolate. I can feel Cecil's mouth sucking the lettuce from my palms as I giggle at his belly in the photo. The shock on my face at being lifted off my feet from the water by the dolphins, the obliging kiss, and the strange feeling of alienation from the mammals that I've adored as a child. Clearly, I will not be keeping one in my bathtub, as the surprising warmth of the sea lions and even the manatee make me coo and want to take them home. El Extorter offers me the choice of 10 photos for US$80, when I point out (a) the two CD's are unnecessary (just coz we did the feeding of the sea lion and manatee separate from the dolphin stunts!) and (b) I don't even want all the photos. As much as I hate bargaining and despise it in places like this even more, I make a counter offer, desperate to hold on to some memories (where I actually look as fetching {well in some photos anyway} as the other mammals!). I'm furious at this intransigence. Economically speaking, a sale at any price of strangers photos has got to be more profitable than no sale at all (great, now I sound like a Ferengi!), and womanfully quell the urge to (a) belt him across the face (b) burst into tears (c) smash his camera (d) fumble in my stash for the cash. So, how much would I have paid for those memories? Actually, if I'm honest, the memories will always stay with me. It's the collage of the pure aquas, bodies gleaming in the sun and me in the midst of it that is irresistible. I'd have been willing to pay the outrageous ransom of US$75 to take them home where they belong, but I'm no match for the slimy fat man with the camera, unconcern and jpegs. I surrender and walk away resentfully and spend the rest of the journey cursing my principles and wondering if I should've just keeled over with the funds. Siiiiigh. At least I don't have to worry about El Bandito drooling over them.......