BID

“It was only 26 dollars,” Kyle sighed in disbelief, "...tweeeeenty-six...tweeeenty-five."
 
Familiar in the art of savings and champion of the rainy day, Kyle, was typically more accustomed to being frugal with how he spent…or not spent…his money. So when he found himself sitting at the press-board IKEA desk where he usually practiced patience, preparation, and guitar, a part of him wished that the late night commitment, from twelve hours earlier, was never made.

When his fiancée, Lisa, asked what he was intently mulling over, he owned his wasted expenditure, like a vandal with an empty spray can and a brand new mural.
"What is it, Kyle?"
"I won something on an online auction," he paused to grin embarrassingly, "...and I don't really need it."
"Well how much was it?" she gently responded.
"Twenty-six dollars and twenty-five cents," he said shamefully.
"Oh Kyle, that’s fine. But get some new pants next time; the ones you’re wearing have holes in them!", with that she spun out of the room.
She meant every word of what she said to him. With Kyle she always embraced any sign of spontaneity...within reason, but equally loved the way he looks in a fresh pair of Jeans. And truthfully, Lisa would be first to internalize that if it makes Kyle happy, then it is a necessary expense, even if she was the third, or fourth, to admit it.

"Twenty-six dollars and twenty-five cents," Kyle grumbled to himself.
 

It was a recent toe dipping into the Rabbit Hole of vinyl that had led to the loosening of his wallet, and subsequent spending spree. What started with a gifting of a limited edition copy of his favorite Streetlight Manifesto album, quickly spiraled into a once-a-week habit only satisfied by acoustic solo artists and the promise of a better sound. Soon, he was splurging on Craigslist lots of Post-Hardcore 7-inch collections for ten…twenty…thirty dollars at a time, tracking down the classics at flea markets on Sunday afternoons, and eventually finding hidden gems at online auction.

"Twenty-six...twenty-five", Kyle repeated while rubbing the red into his eyes.

Four fingers of Old Fashioned was all it took to nudge Kyle toward clicking the "see more like this" button. It was an additional four fingers of Maker's Mark that made him just uninhibited enough to bid outside of his comfort zone. The resulting morning was a 70-proof hangover and his winning...or losing...bid.

So with the flavor of whiskey and bitters still biting the back of his tongue he reviewed his recent transgression. The posting read:

You are bidding on one “The Internet”. This is not a joke. Through a series of stumbles and chance meetings I was introduced to the original owner who gave me the opportunity to purchase the internet for 15 American dollars in 1991. I am now providing you with the chance to purchase the internet for the same price I was given nearly 25 years ago...with inflation of course.
Upon payment I will relinquish ownership of the internet directly to the winning bidder. What you do with the internet is completely up to you. The only request I make is that you do not make any profit on the resale of the internet. All sales are final.

Letting the description sink in Kyle yelled to Lisa, "Hey Lees, what do you think the inflation rate is between 1991 and 2014?"