Two months ago I saw these roosters at a Mexican restaurant in LA. Love at first sight. I couldn’t tell if they were pretty or hideous, but either way, yes, love.
And they were for sale! I saw a price tag: $2495.
Okay, I thought, it’s a cool rooster and all, but that’s WAY high for a piece of art in a crappy little restaurant. Where the hell did this rooster come from, anyway? Some semi-famous local artist? Was it imported from some tiny impoverished Mexican village, known for the stunning sculptures its struggling residents miraculously produce by somehow turning their suffering into great art?
Throughout dinner, I imagined a future in which I’d have so much money I could buy potentially hideous $2000 roosters at the drop of the hat. And after dinner, on my way out, I gave the rooster one last look.
Turns out there was an incredibly, impossibly small decimal point after the 4. The rooster only cost $24.95! What a deal! A $2000 rooster for just twenty bucks!
The other one was just $19.95 and I bought them both. If I had known the actual rooster prices going into dinner, I probably wouldn’t have wanted them. I would have assumed they were mass produced by Chinese babies and shipped to Mexican restaurants around the world. But instead, yes, I’m now the owner of two proud kitchen roosters.
And yes, I realize they look stupid against the black marble and beige wall. They need white surfaces to really pop. Stupid roosters.