Anything you want: teeth, furs, cigars, turquoise, genuine desert artifacts, the rarest beetles pinned to velvet, a twist of metal certified by SETI . I even have a finger bone, a hand. There's no pride about what: it's all the same--a swap. Everyone has something that they want. You buy, or if you're the type who senses whiskey sweats you show that awful sort of kindness. If you're someone who knows damn well when someone's gone to seed. Seed, there's something I could have done with early on, something practical, but I take mean pride in the value given useless things. Here a broke-off eyelash, there a diamond chip. Anything in Lucite goes like mad, especially arachnids. The goddamned genuine carpet bag takes you off your guard--no more authentic an eyesore anywhere. Who wouldn't need to look? Who wouldn't need a souvenir, if for the nothing else the story?