Will You Sell It?

Few people ever actually said “yes” to the ridiculous trades offered on Will You Sell It? Some people did, but that was usually for easy choices, like selling a new sports car for seven million dollars or a house for two billion. No one ever sold a friend or family member or even a pet. The money offered was always some ludicrous amount, even more so than for a house. That was the draw of the show; we were always so engrossed in other people’s lives and their decisions that we never actually thought about what we had.

The contestants were chosen randomly and the host and his crew would just appear out of thin air to talk to them. I remember sitting in the living room, playing some video game with my older brother Jessie. I was maybe 9 or 10 ad he was either 13 or 14. My parents were mad at him because he was failing half of his classes at school and had been caught painting obscene phrases and images on the bathroom walls at school. He was one stupid decision away from expulsion. My parents were furious with him. After dinner they were going to sit down and have a long talk with him, that is until the doorbell rang.

My Mom went to answer the door and she was quite surprised to see a man with a microphone and camera crew standing there.

“Hello ma’am. This is Will You Sell It? and I’m the host. So, will you sell your firstborn for one trillion dollars?”

My mother laughed, “Sure, why not.” She turned and looked at Jessie. He was pale from the shock of her answer.

“Thank you for playing.” The host closed the door.

“Are you serious!” Jessie screamed at her.

“Of course not,” she responded, still laughing. “I just wanted to scare you and it worked.”

The rest of the night went by without incident. Mom and Dad lectured Jessie about cleaning up his act and they grounded him from playing video games until he did so as collateral. We went to bed around 9. I couldn’t sleep. I kept tossing and turning and I thought I heard a loud thumping noise. I eventually got up and went into Jessie’s room.

“Are you still awake?” I asked as I lightly shook him.

“I wasn’t,” he responded groggily, he was a light sleeper, “until you woke me.”

“I thought I heard a thumping and I can’t sleep.”

“It’s nothing. Your mind is playing tricks on you, besides, I didn’t hear it and you know how well I sleep. Just go to sleep.

I went back to my room where I fell into a light, dreamless sleep. Then I heard a soft crash, like someone was trying to break a window with as little noise as possible. I dismissed it as my imagination like the earlier thumping. A few minutes later I heard the unmistakable sound of feet shuffling. I turned over to look at the hallway through my door. I saw a figure walking down the hallway, out of Jessie’s room, our rooms were right next to each other on the second floor. I figured it was just Jessie going downstairs to use the bathroom so I turned over and tried to sleep again. I couldn’t. No matter what, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. I decided to check on Jessie again. I opened his door and saw him sleeping, or so I thought.

The next morning, a Saturday, my mother shook me awake. She was crying.

“I can’t find Jessie!” She shrieked.

“Is he in the basement playing video games?” I asked her, still groggy and not fully comprehending the situation or the weight of her words.

“He isn’t. Your father and I checked the whole house and we can’t find him. Both of our cars are still here so he didn’t steal one and his bike is still here as well. His phone is still charging next to his bed so he should be here. I called all of his friends’ mothers but they all told me the same thing: he’s not here.” She rambled on.

At this point, her words hit me. This coupled with the unease I had felt during the night told me everything that I needed to know. Like a zombie in a trance, I got up and walked into his room. I threw back the covers and saw stacks and stacks of hundred dollar bills. We counted them all out, one trillion dollars in total.