Since we were already antiquing we decided to move on from Jules Antiques and find another little shop nearby. That’s how we ended up at Cookie’s. Now, just to be clear, not all of my adventures end up somewhere magical, sometimes we just end up in these weird little places that smell of electricity and feel like you’ve entered the Twilight Zone.
Cookie’s was like that. It was a ramshackle little place with parking for a handful of cars. When we drove up we immediately noticed a big sign reading, “cookies” over an open barn door. It was dark and it didn’t seem like there was anyone around. We both wondered if this wasn’t some sort of trap and if we weren’t about to bumble into some serial killing mastermind just beyond, you know like whoever drives around the big black van that reads, “free candy.” This place reminded me a lot of central and northern Maine. It was for all intent and purposes a glorious junk shop – the kind any hoarder would be proud. As we walked into the barn we realized there was barely any place to walk. From floor to ceiling there was junk piled high and even hanging. Random. Strange. Often totally useless crap. We still scrambled through what we thought were isles before they too ended abruptly at a total impasse. Towards the window there was a selection of pretty bottles and lamp I was only halfway convinced wasn’t made of human skin.
Walking further we got into the actual shop and it was cramped and had that familiar smell of musk and mildew. There were two other customers, and we couldn’t get by them. Everyone except one guy and the woman running the place seemed vibrantly uncomfortable as we stared down at boxes full of VHS tapes, none of them anything good or memorable. And who the hell is buying VHS tapes?! We stayed long enough to be weirded out by the male customer who was obviously a familiar in this haunt. He seemed off. Maybe he was trying to woo the missus. Who knows.
As we beat it to the car (sans cookies as there wasn’t a baked good within miles) we giggled what an experience that had been. For me it did bring back many memories of the junk shops in Maine as well as a number of hoarders I have had the *ahem* privilege of visiting. And don’t get me wrong junk shops can be surprising. Sometimes you find some crazy things in them for a few cents. It’s always a complete toss up but if I were to ever find a forgotten million dollar painting it’d probably be in a place like this sitting next to a pile of dog chewed rubber duckies.
