The elusive trading card

 The ice-cold bottle of Coke crashed down the chute and came to rest at his fingertips. He pried off the cap, lifted the bottle, and drank, bubbles sliding down his throat. Three quick slugs emptied it. He placed it with the other empties in the wooden case. Though he could have drunk another, he saved his last change for baseball cards.

It was a short walk to the comic store where the cards were also sold and hed been keeping an eye out for the next delivery that was due in today. He was greeted by a few of his friends, all gathered in front of the store, their change jingling in their pockets, anticipating finding a rare, very collectible card. And even though their chances weren't good, their spirits ran high; maybe one of them would.

Finally, the mail truck pulled up. The driver, holding a box no bigger than a breadbox, walked past them and set it on the counter, where the shopkeeper opened it and took out the stack of wrapped cards. Once good buddies, now like ravens fighting over roadkill, they pushed and shoved to be first in line.

What seemed like an eternity a minute ago became mere seconds as wrappers were dropped to the floor and each card looked at with great hopes of finding that one card, but only finding a small flat piece of bubblegum and players they already had. Sorry, boys, the shopkeeper said as the boys shuffled out of the store toward the park bench, where they traded cards for ones they didn't have.

Each of the boys had a couple of coins, not enough to buy one more pack, but if they pooled their change, they had just enough for one more pack. It was a race back to the store, where, along the way, they swore a blood oath that if that one special card was in the pack, they'd take turns holding on to it forever.

They plopped their change on the counter, and the shopkeeper set the last of the new cards on the counter where the boys just stared at it, knowing and believing this was the pack they sought. They decided on rock, paper, scissors to see who would be the lucky one to open the pack. It was Bobby who won the honor as he slowly opened the pack, as all eyes were on the pictures of familiar players, but once again, not the card they sought. Bobby split the flat piece of bubblegum among them as they left the store, popping bubbles and racing to the ball park, hoping to see the mid-day game with players still climbing the ladder to the big leagues, and who knows, maybe their own cards someday.

That one card was never found, and the boys grew up with sons of their own who, on any given Saturday, could be found opening trading-card packages and fighting over the flat piece of bubblegum. I suppose some things are just too good to let go of.

Mike 2026