The Peculiarity Emporium-Part III of III

Welcome back to The Peculiarity Emporium. Some stories refuse to end. They linger in memory, in promises kept, and in the objects we hold close. Ten years after a fire, a boy’s fate remained uncertain. Fifty years later, Barry and Carol discover that some gifts carry more than beauty — they carry a soul. Welcome to the final chapter of The Peculiarity Emporium.

He handed me the piece of paper and instead of looking it over I noticed a smudge of soot on it as he asked me, “Mr. can I wrap this up for you, Mr.? I have some real purty paper in the office, Mr.”

Momentarily distracted, I quickly folded the receipt and shoved it in my pocket. “Well, Mr. Dipple, that is mighty kind of you, thank you.”

“Not kind of me at all, Mr. It’ll cost ya three dollars, Mr.”

“Another three dollars? C’mon Earl, you just got all my money!”

“Mr., that money belongs to Damien, he owns the store, ya remember, Mr.? He lets me keep the money I gets from wrappin’ things though.”

“Thanks, but no thanks, kid; you tapped me out with the box as it is.”

“Have it yer way, Mr.” Earl said as he put the box in a plastic bag with the name of Capital Market, a local grocery store, imprinted on the front of the bag. Again I noticed those hands, those burned hands, old, leathered—like they’d seen fire up close and lost the fight.

 “Here ya be, Mr., I hopes the Mrs. enjoys it.”

Earl’s expression finally changed. His beady eyes were open wide, although still unblinking! He smiled a toothy grin that spoke volumes. He bested me. “Owl Boy” knew it; I knew it.

Maybe he really sold me a cheap box, ya know the kind you can get at carnivals and fairs for pitchin’ nickels into plates. The carnies pay a couple of bucks for a dozen or so of boxes like this, maybe.

Carol would still love the box. She wouldn’t know, or care, if I paid fifteen cents OR fifteen dollars. She would love it simply because it came from me on our anniversary.

Taking the bag with the box in it from Earl, I said my good-bye’s and left the dark shop. Reentering the glowing light of the outside world, I took a deep breath. I needed to cleanse my lungs of the musty odor that invaded them.

The smell from within the cavernous shop was tremendous. I thought to myself, How does ‘Owl Boy’ do it, working inside there all day? Give him a medal. He deserves it.

I took the receipt out of my shirt pocket and was about to put it in the bag with the box when I glanced at it quickly.

“Dammit!” I exclaimed.

Underneath the bold block lettering, “BILL OF SALE”, as it was printed on the receipt, was:

“SALE PRICE — $5.00 (five dollars)”

I guess “Owl Boy” wasn’t nearly as dumb as I figured; I’d been outfoxed, plain and simple. But, I couldn’t even be mad. If anything, young Earl was now ten dollars richer!

I had to smile to myself, even though I was really beaten. Rather than being upset, I looked at the brighter side. I was still satisfied with my purchase. It was still worth more than what I paid for it and I knew Carol would love it.

I took the box out of the bag to admire it in the bright light of day. It looked even better than it did inside the shop now the light was shining on it. The outside was so beautiful that I began to wonder what the inside was like. I tried to open the box as I stood on the street, no luck; it wouldn’t open at all.

“There must be a trick to this.” I mumbled to myself. “Earl can help me out.”

Turning to go back into the shop, I found the door locked and a CLOSED sign hung in the window of the front door. The windows were dark. Dust clung to the inside like it had been untouched for years.”

Funny, it was only 4:30PM. I thought, O.K., I will play with it after I get it home and give it to Carol. She will get a kick out of hearing the story that goes along with the box. She will get a laugh out of ‘Owl Boy’ if nothing else. In fact, I may bring her back this way to meet him herself.

Carol was waiting for me at home. She met me at the door, as she always did, with a smile, a big hug and a bigger kiss.

“Happy Anniversary.” She said as she handed me a card.

“Happy Anniversary to you too.” I said handing her the bag.

“Oh? Did you go grocery shopping at the Capital Market?”

“No, that’s just the ‘exclusive’ gift wrapping I had done especially just for you. Go ahead and look inside the bag. I am dying to see your face.”

She pulled the box out of the bag with her delicate hands and held it out in front of her admiringly. Tears came to her eyes. She hugged me as if I gave her the moon.

“Oh honey, you shouldn’t have. It’s so expensive!”

“Well, not nearly as expensive as you may think. There is a story that goes along with the box and it is almost as interesting as the box itself.”

When she tried to open the box, nothing. Stuck tight. She had about as much luck as I did earlier. Then I started my tale, describing the shop and the strange owl-boy cashier. She chuckled and laughed as I described the shop, its clutter and the friendly, but weird, Earl.

All the while, as I narrated my tale, we took turns playing with the box, trying to open it. As I came to the end of my story and explained how Earl had switched the price on the receipt from fifteen dollars to five dollars, Carol was howling!

“It is beautiful just to look at even if we can’t get it opened dear.” She was saying as she finally gave up trying to open the box and she set it down on the coffee table—it popped open

We gasped!

“You must have hit it at just the right angle when setting it down. You must have activated a secret button somewhere on the bottom.”

Taking the box a second time, “It is so exquisite. Look at the inside. A red velvet lining, removable tray.” Reaching inside the box with excited hands, she lifted out the tray.

With her eyes looking directly into mine, she uttered. “Barry?” Her voice was shallow, strained, and disbelieve in her voice.

“What Dear?”

“You said you couldn’t open the box earlier?”

“Yes?”

“And the box wasn’t opened by Earl?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Barry, there is a small envelope under the tray here and our names are written on it!”

“No way!” I said as I jumped out of my chair.

Pulling out the envelope, she nervously opened it, slid out a card and handed it to me.

“Look!” I held the receipt next to the envelope. “It’s ‘Owl Boy’, er, Earl’s handwriting!”

“Are you certain?” Carol’s quivering lips responded.

“It’s his handwriting all right, look at the writing on my receipt!”

Nervously, she handed me the card. On one side of the card were these five words:

“Happy Anniversary Carol and Barry!”

Turning the card over, I saw a ten-dollar bill fastened to the card. After removing the bill, I found a message, again written in Earl’s handwriting. It read:

“Here is $10.00 over and above your original $5.00 offer. Enjoy the box and the pleasure it brings, now and in the future.

                      Sincerely,

                       “Owl Boy”, Earl

P.S. I would return all of the $15 but nothing is worth anything if it is free.

How did he know what I was calling him under my breath? How did he know what I was thinking? How did he get this into the box without me knowing or seeing him do it?

“Barry, honey? Where did you say you were when you bought the box?”

“At a place called the Peculiarity Emporium, next to the old Sport’s Page Bar, down on Tower Avenue. Why?”

Then, Carol went pale.

“Honey, That junk shop—there’s nothing there. Not anymore. That place burned down . . . years ago.”

I stared.

“Remember, there was an old junk shop there years ago. It was owned by a recluse that no one ever saw? It burned down years ago. There was a young man that worked there at the time.”

“He had no family so he was living in a room above the shop when the fire occurred. He supposedly perished in the fire, but his body was never found. Remember?”

“No way! Are you sure?”

“Yes, the more I think about it the more I am positive. And Honey? I’m sure it happened on . . . our wedding day!” Then her scream!!

 “Oh my God, that means he died ten years ago today!”

“No way, ah, ah, I was talking to a dead man!?!?!”

“I remember reading, since he had no family, the county was going to cover the expenses of burying him, but they never found his body. It was a mystery for a while, but you know how people are. When the next big thing happens in this hick town, they forget about the last news item and move on.”

“I bet no one has thought of that poor boy in years!” Carol silently began to cry, then sob, as she clutched the box close to her heart. “We have to do something special for him since he did something special for us.” she said.

I nodded, “We will.”

“Well Mr. Dibble,” I promised, “Mr. Earl Dibble, you will never be forgotten as long as we have anniversaries.”

And we did. We kept our promise for many years.

You see, today is our Fiftieth Wedding Anniversary. Every year, for the last forty years, Carol and I bring out the box to admire it and to remember someone special in our lives. That someone is Earl Dibble. A boy who gave us something worth far more than money.

Carol and I haven’t much longer in this world—we’ll be seeing him soon enough. But now that you know him too, Earl won’t be forgotten. Not ever.

✍️ Author’s Note

Every story deserves its close — and this one ends not with a goodbye, but with a promise kept. The Peculiarity Emporium lives on in memory, in legacy, and in the quiet power of a vow honored across fifty years. Thank you for walking this path with me — and for helping keep Earl Dibble remembered.

If this tale moved you, share it with your friends, frenemies, in-laws, outlaws, and anyone who believes that even the smallest kindness can echo through time. Invite them to visit the blog and subscribe — because stories like Earl’s deserve to be passed on.