I stay away from Goodwill, the Salvation Army, all thrift stores, yard sales, and flea markets.Why? Because you don’t know the stories behind their products.

When I was a kid, I went to these types of places all the time. My family didn’t have much money, so used things were the only new things I could get.

One time, my mom took me and my little sister to the local flea market. I found a yo-yo, but my sister got lucky. She found a Yak Bak, and she had found it in a box labeled “Free.”

The whole way home, my sister kept pressing the “Say” button and recording her voice. Every time she’d hit “Play” her voice could be heard clear as crystal.

When we got home, I went to my room and started reading a comic book. I could hear my sister in her room playing with her Yak Bak. I heard her play for hours.

After a while, she started to sound like two different people. She sounded both incredibly tired and excited. When I got up to check on her, she looked haggard. She had deep circles under her eyes and her skin looked pale.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

She looked up at me, held up her Yak Bak, and pressed the Yak Bak’s “Say” button. “Get out of here, John,” she whispered. She turned the Yak Bak toward me, and pressed the “Play” button.

“Yeah, get out of here, John,” the device said loudly with a girlish giggle.

I got out of there. After a little while, I heard her climb into bed. After she fell asleep, I crept into her room and stole her Yak Bak. I took that thing outside, stomped it to shit, and threw it into our garbage can.

When my sister awoke the next morning, she looked better. She didn’t mention her missing Yak Bak. Years later, I mentioned it to her, and she never even remembered owning a Yak Bak.




Published by John Du