You went on that show Storage Wars and you bid on the stuff in one of the lockers and won. You brought home all the porcelain knick knacks, bed linens, jewelry, and old Life magazines that could fit into an 8X10 foot space.
“Which is why I’m going to kill your wife and daughters if I don’t get it back in 6 hours,” the man who was behind on his rent on that storage locker is telling you as he waves a knife in front of your face.
You sold all of his stuff already. He says it’s okay, he doesn’t want the Life magazines or the bed linens. But among the knick knacks, there was apparently a set of racist salt and pepper shakers that he considers very valuable. Also, among the jewelry, there was an amulet.
“It’s the middle of the night,” you’re telling him. Your wife grunts from behind the duct tape over her mouth.
“Guess you’ll have to break in,” the man whose stuff you won on TV will say.
Later, after your high-octane treasure hunt is completed and you discover that the salt-shakers were composed of a crystallized synthetic drug and the amulet contained a key to a safe-deposit box full of diamonds, you’ll reread your contract for your appearance on Storage Wars and, sure enough, there will be a term that explicitly releases them from liability should the former owner of the stuff you win comes to your home and makes an attempt on your life. Also, they’re completely protected if the stuff you win is haunted or if it causes the spread of a dormant yet deadly virus for which there is no known vaccine.
“Well that show just lost a viewer,” you’ll say after removing the duct tape from your wife’s and daughters’ mouths and holding them to your chest to try and quiet their cries.
Happy Storage Wars Day!