At the register, I non-chalantly mention the chinese checker game over yonder, not wanting to be the annoying person pointing to the sold section saying, "Can I buy that?" where I am given a response of, "That stuff is for sale." I burst out in nothing less than a full sprint over to the table, grab the blue tin, bringing back the wonderful rattle of "the pieces," and thrust it at my heavy eye linered cashier. I am out of breath, but I am victorious. In the car I fumble with the tin trying to get it open to no avail, telling myself with more tools it will open easily at home.
He stuggles for a few minutes unsucessfully and heads to the kitchen for tools. I hear some rattling, and at this point the omens are wafting in. This thing is not rusted shut. It has been glued shut to hide the contents. He finally pries it open to reveal this:
The silver linning was that I found two Sophie Giraffes, for a buck a piece. This eased the pain a trifle, but not by much.