The Negotiations.....

[Ray]

The Negotiations.....

It sat there languishing on the market for nigh-on three years. The owners were just asking too much by virtue of its supposed commercial potential. Yes there were 28 established r.v. pads with hook-ups and a his & hers bathhouse and a general store but kudzu vines had obscured those in the dozen or so tourist seasons since the owners had became inmates in the dementia ward and subsequently died. The heirs/estate put it on the market as soon as legally possible but by then nature had reclaimed it. The biking/hiking trails were obstructed by fallen trees and the weeds in the lake had solidified during three consecutive summers of severe drought and rendered that serenely reflective body into a slimey, stinking quagmire that was poised to return to forest by virtue of saplings sprouting in the fertile muck.

Then one day a man commuting to work came screeching to a near miss of a herd of deer crossing the highway. On his elevenses/tiffin break, and just for curiosity sakes, he he looked-up with an internet search the property whence the deer had retreated only to find out it was for sale and had been so for awhile.

So the man, well advanced into middle-age, scraped together all of his savings and took an imprudent loan against his pension and made the heirs/estate an offer.....much, much reduced from the asking price. With two months to go until hunting season he thought he had ample time to haggle and dicker with hopes of getting a timely offer acceptance and swift closing.

Then the negotiations commenced in earnest. The son of the late owners was wont to pull-corks and pop-tops and snort-lines of chemicals that weren't free. Not to mention the commercial harlots that required their fees and nimble entertainers twirling about gold-plated poles that greatly appreciated one and two dollar gratuities. So he was an easy sell.

Not so his elder sister who did not have such expensive hobbies and was content to wait for a fuller offer. The younger sister was reluctant to sale as well as she had dreams of buying out the other two and restoring the property to its former glory. She had managed the place prior to its closing and hoped to do so again as its sole owner.

True, the corporation that owned the nursing home where the original owners were inmates had had a lien but the younger sister, as her parent's conservetress and executrix of their estate had been diligent to pay the home's exorbitant monthly rates to the penny to ensure a free and clear inheritance. Then the little slice of eden had gone on the market only to sit there with few or no nibbles until the man with the low-ball offer came along.

And the negotiations continued with counter-offers by the owners ignored by the buyer. He simply had accumulated all of the green he possibly could and his inital offer was his final offer. A second-mortgage on their home was out of the question with the bride of his youth and that was that.

Meanwhile, the cougarish tanning-bed queen real estate agent with the silvery doo was at her wits end regarding the two female sellers dragging their feets. She was eager for the impending commission even at the reduced amount. She had an ally in the sole male heir and they began to socially correspond and were soon "an item" as catty, gossiping biddies are wont to say. She soon learned to pull-corks and pop-tops and snort-lines and in fullness of time, they began to sinfully cohabitate.

Finally the negotiations had commenced to the point of verbal acceptances and a check by the potential buyer for $1,500 in a earnest down-payment was filled, signed and rendered to the tanning-bed queen real estate agent. However, the proceedings stalled on the question of just who was to pay what in regards to closing costs. There were some $3,700 and change that had to be coughed-up by someone. The sellers balked at the idea of it coming out of their end and the buyer was adamant that his offer was his limit. The tanning-bed queen suggested a compromise with each side ponying-up $1,850 but both dissented by obstinatcy and on principles. The buyer was at his financial limit and knew he would have to pay the state ad valorem extortions and there were hunting stands/hides yet to be built. To add to his trials and his afflictions, his shooting range was closed for repairs until further notice and he was counting on verifying scope sighting on the new property.

Likewise the female two-thirds of the sellers weren't going to be bullied or rushed with the male third of the gang vocally urging the opposite and his new tanning-bed browned piece of fluff concurring. They had already spent her anticipated commission and they were thirsty and their noses itched.

Finally, the first of october loomed near and the buyer told the tanning-bed queen agent to tell the sellers for them to either poop or get off of the pot. She urged him continued patience to which he replied with exasperation.....

"It's almost bow season and I haven't even dolloped the first schmear of peanut butter nor have I verified the regulation of my .17 h.m.r. rifle. Those broadheads they make in Lewiston are a bit light at 20 grains but one in the armpit on an undisturbed broadside shot usually does the trick !"

[JBowen]

Good read, Ray. I used to work with a guy that had a 22 magnum bow.


JBowen

[Ray]

My grammar and punctuation failings are so egregious I am ashamed lest you learned folk censure me. That next to last sentence should have read.....

"schmeared the first dollop".

[GunnyMack]

Ray your stories are always entertaining! You have a mastery with grammer- one of those ' I can't put it down ' things I guess you would say.

[Ray]

The story above is certainly fiction but I use real life as inspirations. We took possession of a fifty-four-year old derelict home place and adjoining lots last week. The negotiations with the heirs/estate were quite interesting with the tanning-bed overdone agent pulling her bleach-blonde doo out by the roots in frustration at their obtuseness and obstinacy but they finally took our much reduced and final offer and signed.

The deer sign proved to be much less than my son initially reported in his enthusiasm. The evidence is there but not fresh. He had found the realtor listing online and had scouted out the place and did the preliminary back and forth with the brown glossy lady (agent) who is a bit mature and overqualified for her attire.

But the place is wild as no one has actually lived there since 1998 and nature has taken over. That it has been a deer bedding sanctuary in the past is obvious as it is surrounded by housing but the lack of fresh sign is a bit discouraging. There might not be time to lure/attract them back this season but at least there are small fishes in the pond that are gullible enough to bite at purple plastic hellgramites.

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[GunnyMack]

Congrats on the acquisition. I'm sure there are more deer around than you think.
Come spring I'd put a food plot in at the center of the property.
Set up some cameras too.

[Ray]

The only recent deer sign (tracks in mud) is at the side of a busy highway and under the highway concrete culvert. I'm unsure if deer will actually pass through the tunnel under the highway or not.

And the small fishes are still being fooled with rubber bugs but they are gradually catching on to the deception and take many more casts between bites.....

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Smallish largemouth on a hellgramite......

And.....

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Green bream on a tiny tube.....

[JBowen]

That is just the kind of place deer like to hide in and get away from hunting pressure. After my Dad and Mom retired they decided to move to town. They found a nice place at the end of a dead end road on the outer edge of city limits. It joined some woods and cattle pastures.
Dad told me he kept seeing deer at night in the yard under the street lights with several bucks. I put up a game camera and sure enough there was some very nice ones in there, but you never would see them in the day time. The deer had the humans figured out.

JBowen

[Bill in Oregon]

What a great story and project, Ray. Hope it all pans out for you. How does one control kudzu? Cut and remove? Herbicide?

[Ray]

What a great story and project, Ray. Hope it all pans out for you. How does one control kudzu? Cut and remove? Herbicide?

wilhelm, the kudzu in the o.p. is fictional from the schizoid brain of ray in whose world the sky is green and the grass is blue. If we find any kudzu vines on the real place it will be immediately attacked mechanically as I am loathe to spray toxins.

[Ray]

B.T.T. with this.....

I stopped by the place after clocking-out of work at 0500 friday. The tackle I had with me was very basic/primitive. A 14' telescoping fiberglass pole. 5' of 8lb. monofilament. Generic (chino) bead-headed nymph fly below (18") a small, common red & white plastic bobber.

https://m.youtube.com/shorts/QNadd5J7FlE

The sight of the bobber submerging & the tug of the fishies on the reel-less pole as the day dawned and the birdies were tweeting was most satisfying and reminded of the second verse of "how great THY art".....

When through the woods and forest glades I wander.....
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.....
When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur....
And hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze.....

Disclaimer for the animal rights advocates.....All the fishies were returned to their home with no more harm than a sore mouth.