Attila Elder was a maitre d' in the cafeteria of a state prison. He scolded the prisoners into sitting in the proper benches around filthy little tables. It wasn't much of a job, but he wasn't much of a man. It was the best he could manage. Attila was married. She wasn't much of a woman, but the best he could manage. What more can any of us ask for than to get best we can get? When he'd married Joette, his wife, he'd kind of liked her. But men marry first and foremost for sex. It's more economical and practical to have a woman who's conveniently resident than to have to go through the stress of courtship and rejection over and over again. The trouble with Joette and with almost all women is that they are, by their very nature, unsatisfactory. From the beginning Joette was sexually inadequate, disappointing, unfulfilling; like a computer which refused to operate as promised, was always crashing and failing to do what was desired. The female hardware is just fine, nifty stuff. It's just their software, their minds that are bulging with bugs. Some cultural Billy Gates screwed up the female psyche even worse that the other Billy screwed up Windows. Attila Elder was an unremarkable man, a gray being in a gray world with gray thoughts. Joette surely didn't help him. It's not a woman's nature to be helpful. It was the best he could get. He stalked the prison cafeteria pushing prisoners down to their slop and wondering about his gray existence. "Why not sell you wife?" Attila overheard one prisoner jokingly ask another who was lamenting his continual rejection. "You could auction her off on the Internet. Stick somebody else with the lemon." Grinning, the other prisoner observed that it would be like spreading a virus. It might result in his getting another sentence. Maitre d' Elder reprimanded the prisoners for smiling instead of bearing the punishment of their meal like good convicts, but their golden idea rang a cord in his gray mind. Why couldn't he just sell Joette? He could auction her off like an aging drop-leaf table or a defective lava lamp. She'd never proven really serviceable or beneficial. Why not dump her like an attic cast-off? While compelling prisoners to consume liver and Brussels sprouts till they gagged, Attila mulled over his "Auction Solution" as he'd come to call it. He started to doubt the wisdom of the suggestion. How bad could Joette really be, he rationalized? He felt a little guilty for considering a scheme to sell off his wife of ten years as if she were merely a truck with flat tires. So far as he knew, she hadn't been unfaithful very frequently, but he was pretty suspicious about Sergio. How bad could she really be? But, he decided, that was the wrong question. If your going to have a truck or a lava lamp or a wife, the test shouldn't be how bad she is, but how good she is. A wife should be something you enjoy not endure. Not being unfaithful wasn't the same as being responsive. So, the prison maitre d' cataloged his wife's valuable assets. He thought and he thought. He was certain that she was good for something. She had a lot of good points. There were times she didn't reject and contradict every word he said. Sometimes she didn't treat him like shit. Now and then she didn't discourage him or depress him or make him feel inferior, unimportant or abandoned. The more he reflected on his wife, the more he realized that she had very little to recommend her. She was sexually stingy, negative, unpleasant, dissatisfied and generally disinterested and uninteresting. If you're a husband, you no doubt recognize your wife in that description. What wife do you know who's a helpmate, uplifting, encouraging, positive; a builder instead of a destroyer? What can be the use of them? Yes, Attila resolved that auctioning Joette was the right solution. For the first time in years, he was almost excited, his wife would be giving him some pleasure, even if only in getting rid of her. Completely forgetting the prisoner who'd first suggested it, Mr. Elder was delighted that he'd had such a great idea. Attila had never been on the Internet (or in a library, come to that). He wasn't even sure exactly what it was, pretty technical, he thought. Like reading and writing, technical things were not his forte. He didn't own a computer. He'd only heard others talk about being "online" and visiting auction sites, but for this promising project it was a worthwhile investment. Attila wasn't a bright man. In fact, ever since his school days he'd been downright dull. Why else would he take a job in a prison? It was the best thing he could manage. In spite of his limitations, he bought a nice secondhand computer out of the classifieds, subscribed to an Internet service and taught himself the fundamentals. It was an enjoyable six months. He felt like he was doing something constructive, working to improve his gray existence. Attila visited Internet auction sites. He talked to people who frequented the net. He didn't tell anybody what he had in mind. He was just gathering information. He hadn't absolutely committed to auctioning Joette, but it was a luscious little secret which encouraged and brightened him immensely. He discovered that the auction sites all operated pretty similarly. After setting up an account and divulging credit card particulars, the seller started by picking out a category in which to offer his discard. That was going to be tough. None of the sites offered a used-wife category. You'd think they would. Heaven knows, I don't know one guy who's satisfied with the wife he's been stuck with. After picking the category, the seller had to write a description of the antique. The instructions said that the description should be as accurate and complete as possible. For the best results, a photo or a couple photos were suggested so that a prospective buyer had a clear idea of what he was bidding upon. That was going to be a problem, too. Joette had never been a beauty, not ugly, you understand, just ordinary. After ten years of marriage, she was fat, overly-painted and pretty unappealing. At least she no longer appealed to Attila. Posting her photos would discourage more bids than encourage them. Then, writing the "accurate" description; he'd have to think of something positive to say. He couldn't very well describe her as "not always argumentative." He decided he'd simply lie. That's what she'd done to him. She faked it, pretended to be desirable, responsive, supportive, all that wifely stuff. It was all lies. And even during the long dull decade of their union she continued to lie. He wasn't important enough to her to be told the truth. To Attila it seemed logical that if Joette lied to sell herself, he could lie to sell her, too. Finally, he put together an auction presentation. With careful manipulation, he used one of the graphics programs to snip her outline out of a group shot at an Independence Day picnic. He pasted it into the picture of a pleasant bedroom he found in a magazine. She looked almost passable except for her scowl. She always scowled. Why are wives so unpleasant to their husbands? With the doctored photo (he couldn't figure out how to make it look like she was smiling), Attila Elder included the best description his limited intellectual resources could contrive: "Wife, only slightly used, not too old, not too fat, can cook a little, likes jewelry, seldom caught cheating, likes money, can operate an automobile and microwave, beautiful." He threw in the "beautiful" part at the last moment to encourage nearsighted bidders. After proudly uploading his offering, Mister Elder went off to do his maitre d' job for the state, beaming with satisfaction. As he maitre d'ed, he mused how annoyed Joette would be when she found herself sold off to a pawnbroker or a blind masochist. As he forced prisoners down onto their steel benches, he smiled the joyful smile of a man on his way to personal happiness. He was in such a great mood that he didn't even club one of the old guys who dared to get out of order on the way to his table. A prison maitre d' has to be tough. Attila Elder had always considered himself a rather charming ladies' man. Nobody had ever actually said that he was charming or even that he was a ladies' man. He just figured it was more than likely true. What he might lack in brain power, he figured he made up for in appearance. Sure, now he was balding and gray, about forty pounds overweight and a bit wrinkled, but he was sure that with the money he was going to realize from the sale of his old wife, he could pick up some pleasant young female who would say "yes" and cooperate some of the time. Guys just don't know when they have it well off; out of the frying pan, into the fire! In highschool (he'd have graduated, too, if it hadn't been for that English test in the eleventh grade) some of the girls used to call him Attila "the Hon," get it? Some of them even went out with him when he had the money. He was certain that once he was rid of Joette, he'd be the "Hon" on the dating circuit. Bad news awaited him at home. There was an email on his computer. It must have been sent almost as soon as he'd uploaded the ad. The auction site rejected it! Do you believe it? They wouldn't let him post a "parody." Damn! They though his ad was a put-on! Damn! They didn't answer his email where he explained that he was completely serious. He really did want to auction his old wife. Damn! For a week he was worse than grumpy. He gave those scum-bag prisoners hell. They had to eat every scrap even of the stuff they called tuna casserole. Several of them got good and sick. He tried again and submitted his auction ad and photo to another site. They too rejected it. They took offense at selling people. Joette wasn't people. She was his wife. In furious frustration, he simultaneously offered it to all the auction sites he could find. All but one bounced it back. A notorious little place called "sellyoursoul," let it appear. For a while Mr. Elder was hopeful again. To Attila the "Hon's" great disappointment, after the first week, there were no bids. He figured it was the photo. If you were going to bid on a girl, Joette wouldn't be high on your draft. No, maybe it was the written description. That had to be the problem. It didn't make her seem desirable. In fact, reading over the description, Attila realized that it made Joette sound downright undesirable, which, of course, in real life is just what she was. By the end of the three week sale period, there had been only one bid. It was for $1.98 from someone calling himself, "The Joker." Attila wasn't amused. He certainly wasn't willing to accept that silly offer. After enduring Joette for ten years, the best he could get was a buck ninety eight! He refused the bid. For the next week, Attila was a Hun, even more cruel and vicious than usual to the men at work. He brooded and sulked, cursed and stomped. What did they mean, a buck ninety eight!? The more he pouted, he more certain he became that he had to try a different approach, a better picture and a much better description. The photo was his first hurdle. How could he make dowdy old Joette more attractive. Finally it occurred to him that what men want is sex, so she had to be naked; a naked photo was sure to zoom up a bidding war. There were two obvious problems with the porno-picture. Firstly, Joette wasn't any better looking naked than she was dressed. In fact, a good bit less so. Clothes hide a multitude of flaws. It had been quite a while since Attila had actually seen his wife undressed, but he remembered that she was flabby, lumpy, saggy, shaggy and soggy, not a pretty sight. Still, men will have sex with just about anything; if it spreads, it weds! Look at Mrs. Bush. But there was a bigger difficulty. There were no pictures of Joette naked and no known way to get one. She didn't even get naked to take a shower. She hadn't been naked in bed since the second year of their marriage. You can't very well take a photo of what you can't see. What was he going to do, say, "O, excuse me, dear, but, by the way, can I snap a few nudes of you for the auction ad?" Even while he was grumbling over his dilemma, it occurred to him that the solution was perfectly simple. None of the potential buyers knew what Joette looked like. Since he was going to lie in the description, he could lie in the photo, too. He'd just lift some naked woman out of a magazine. By the time the buyer was wise, it would be too late. He chose one of the shaved young things that litter the smut magazines. She had red hair and really big titties. Attila figured the tits alone were good for a thousand bucks! He mated his photo with much improved ad copy: "Really good wife for sale to a good home, likes to have sex, is good at it, can bake pastry and make fudge, helps around the house, says yes a lot, can operatean automobile, microwave and a lathe, very beautiful." He uploaded his masterpiece and waited for what he was certain would be a deluge of bids. Before the end of the first day he'd gotten an email. It was from one of the guards he worked with at the prison. Somehow, they had found his obscure little offer. There are no secrets on the World Wide Web. It would be all over the prison in an hour. Maybe it would encourage the bidding, but the email said: "Who are you kidding? That ain't your wife." By the end of the second day there were no bids, but Attila the "Hon" had received another email. It was from someone named Jenniffer O'Sullivan. As it turned out, she was the girl in the picture. She was not pleased that Attila had plagiarized the photo and published it without permission. She was threatening to sue. How'd she find it in two days? There are no secrets on the World Wide Web. It was with true trepidation that Attila Elder looked at his computer when he arrived home on the third day. He was relieve that there was no alarming emails, just somebody wanting him to buy Viagra. He printed it out in case he might need it later. Checking his auction ad, he was overwhelmed to see a bid for $10,000. It was from someone with the avatar "Kernel Glenn." An avatar is like a secret identity, a code name. It's like an assumed identity taken from Hinduism. On the sellyoursoul website, everybody was allowed to use an avatar. Mister Elder didn't use one because he couldn't figure out how to set it up. For an hour, Attila was blissfully happy, he could almost see Joette packing out the door and Jenniffer or someone like her dropping around for some pretzels and suds. Then he wondered into the kitchen to warm himself some dinner. On the refrigerator door his wife had put a printout of his ad and the photo of Jenniffer O'Sullivan in all her nubile voluptuous nudity, perky nipples and all. There's a moral to this story. If you're going to auction your old wife on the Internet, be really careful that her coworkers can't printout anything incriminating, and use an avatar. I suggest Siva.