The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 129 : Buttons

Episode Date: June 11, 2026

Lot 129 : Buttons Consigned by Quincy Lee Starring Jarret Griffis Jeffrey Allen Sneed Theme music by The Newton Brothers   Produced by Kevin Seaman   Additional music by CO.AG ([e-mail])   Clement Panchout   Vivek Abhishek   SUBSCRIBE to them on YOUTUBE: / vivekhsihba   LIKE them on FACEBOOK:  https://rb.gy/nhgn0i Follow them on Spotify/ iTunes/ Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/rxdcjqt Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

For an ad-free experience, visit the obsidiancovenant.com. Equals P. There you are. Do forgive the state of the shop. We've been rearranging. Not by choice, mind you. Certain items have developed an unfortunate habit of relocating themselves. Now then, you arrive at a rather curious moment.

Because today's consignment has... not an ancient relic, nor a cursed heirloom. It appears to be nothing more than a collection of brightly colored plastic buttons. Sold to pet owners. Each button contains a recorded word. A simple concept. Food. Outside. You get the picture. The idea being that an animal might press them to communicate with its owner. A charming notion. Though I confess, I've always found the arrangement somewhat unsettling. There is something inherently disquieting about a cat making itself understood,

especially when the message isn't meant for you. I call this tale buttons. Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched, in brass on this beautiful plaque I had made above the front desk. These are some of the members of the inner circle of the antiquarium. We go by the Obsidian Covenant. Recent initiates include Denise Holton, Clint, Ryan Brown, Chelsea Aguilera, Taylor Mankin.

We are ever appreciative of your devotion to the order. Go to the obsidiancovenant.com to receive the sacrament. Sounds harmless enough, right? Welcome to the antiquarium of sinister happenings and odd goings on. That wasn't the only one who used them. It's actually my youngest son's cat who learned to use the buttons. I inherited the cat after my cat.

My son lost control of his car on the icy roads last winter. It happened on the day he received a scholarship to his top college choice. He and his boyfriend were feeling on top of the world and were on their way back home from a trip. His boyfriend survived. He didn't. You can't imagine the grief. Either you've experienced the loss of a child or you haven't.

I didn't weep. out at the funeral, nor for many weeks after, I became a stone, an object. It was as if all the sorrow were locked far from reach. Instead of feeling anything, I simply, I thought many times of grabbing the pistol that I owned from the case in the back of my closet. And on a few occasions, I even went and took it, sat with it, feeling its weight in my hand. My son Vin, Vinny to his friends, was my world. One day he would have been famous.

I'm sure of it. You may think that's a father's pride talk, and maybe it is. But he had a music scholarship. He would have performed for presidents and world leaders. In my mind, when I see him, it's usually had his piano, playing for his cat. When he was 15, I promised him a kitten if he'd. did well in school, and he picked out this tabby, the tiniest and angriest tabby in the world, and named her Terry.

She loved only him, and hissed and growled at anyone else who came near, including me. She also peed on his clothes, and on mine, and on my bed. To say I wanted to get rid of terrible Terry, as I called her, is an understatement. But then my brilliant son died. And suddenly it was just me and terrible Terry. And the gun. I felt nothing but resentment toward that cat. But she spent hours and hours slouched on the window sill in his bedroom

where she always sat while he played piano. I used to think she sat there to watch the birds and couldn't care less about his playing. Now she didn't even lift her head. She just loafed on the sill as if waiting for him to come birds. bursting in and pull the dust cover off and start playing. And there were buttons. You've seen him, I'm sure.

Those gimmicky buttons that people get to train animals to talk. A bunch of nonsense if you ask me. What does a dog got to say? Nothing but food, probably. And anyway, people are supposed to give commands to dogs, not the other way around. But Vinny would watch all these videos of dogs and sometimes cats, pressing the buttons,

buttons, even though, to be honest, the cat videos he showed me looked like the cats walking onto the buttons completely by accident. And that's what I told them. Complete waste of money. People wishfully projecting their ideas onto pets. The cat pressed Love You and meant it. Cats only no hunger and selfish desires. Come on. Well, my stubborn, dreamy-eyed, cat-loving son bought a set of those buttons. He pre-recorded dozens of them, but began with just a handful. Food, cuddle, outside, music, dad, and Vinny. Yes, he put me and himself as buttons, and music too, because he was convinced in his silly teenaged way that the cat liked his music and might want to request it.

Terry was terrified of those buttons. No matter how, he'd try to tried to train her, she refused to use him. She hissed, she swatted, she wouldn't go near him. She knew exactly what they were for, I'm sure of it. She even knew the words, because it'd say to her, let's have some music, and she would go to her perch by the piano and wait for him. But when it came to the buttons, she refused. Terry loved those buttons about as much as I love Terry.

But then, like I said, came the accident. Suddenly my son was gone. The house felt wrong, empty. Terry was a husk. I put food out, but she didn't eat it. I didn't know how to read her signals. She hissed at me if I came near. I decided I should get rid of her.

I couldn't keep his cat. The cat hated me anyway. I will get rid of her, I thought. And then I'll be done with me, too. But I couldn't bring myself. to get rid of my son's cat. And I couldn't shoot myself while the cat was still alive.

So we were stuck. Me and the cat. And then one night, I was up in my room contemplating the gun when I heard the recorded voice downstairs speak. I assumed it must be a mistake.

She must have walked over the button, but then it did came again. I stood there listening to that cat, press Vinny over and over. And tears came into my eyes It was like a key turning in a lock, a crack in the dam that then finally burst. I gasped, loud, gulping sobs.

Finally the tears came from my son. And when the flood was over, I came down, and I found teeny Terry sitting by the buttons looking miserable. And I scooped her up, and I told her, I miss him too. And for once, she didn't swap me. She gave only the smallest crown. I put her down and got her some food. Got myself some, too.

We both ate. That was the beginning. Since then, I've added more buttons. You see, I'm not an animal person. I didn't understand Terry's body language, her wants and needs. Not without those buttons. She finally started using them, training me. I guess they said can't.

Let's do that. She has a wet food button. Kibble button. She has a no button to use if I show her the wrong food. No. I also added from my son's collection the love you button. Yes, I confess I did add it. And a Terry button.

And I began to make a habit of pressing, Love You Vinnie and Love You Terry. I was genuinely in shock how much she communicated. The first time she pressed, they almost broke down all over. I couldn't believe it. She looked like she wasn't even trying. She just casually walked over the buttons. But it was deliberate.

It happened more than once. I still hadn't learned to read her cat body language at all. But with the buttons, I understood her. And I felt like I had a part of my son with me. Sometimes she said things that just cracked open my soul. Like when she looked at me with those big round eyes one time and hit Vinnie Home. I wish he was home too. It was uncanny.

The things we could discuss. We'd have entire conversations. I know, I know it sounds nuts. I'd have thought myself nuts just a couple of months before, but I added buttons so fast. and she took to all of them. I asked her once if she understood what happened to Vinnie. She replied with...

Vinnie Bye-bye. Then she asked me. Vinnie home. I had to tell her no. Vinny bye-bye. And she stubbornly insisted again... Vinnie home. And she walked away angry, I think,

that I couldn't make Vinny come back. But the reason I'm sharing this story and sharing this story here is because of what happened last. Last week, my son Liam came to see me. Liam is Venn's older half-brother. He's nearly a decade older than Venn from a previous relationship, and unfortunately, Liam inherited all of his mother's worst traits.

It's always the same with him. He begs for money, gets abusive if I don't give it, and disappears once I've made him alone that he will never repay. I cut off all the funds to him. years ago and told them I'll no longer enable his habits. While I would never cut him entirely out of my life, I hadn't allowed him to visit when Vinny was alive because of the way he treated Vinny on a previous visit. When he'd sneeringly accused me of favoring that mincing little, I won't repeat his hateful words for his younger brother. When he showed up on my

doorstep, he had the smell of whiskey on his breath. One moment, if you please. It would appear we've reached the point in the story where another guest has arrived. And as is so often the case, he has come seeking something that does not belong to him. We'll leave Father's son and Cat exactly where they are for the moment. After all, a few minutes can change very little. Or everything. We'll return shortly. Welcome back. When last we visited our consigner, an unwelcome guest had arrived bearing condolences and perhaps other intentions.

Grief has a curious way of exposing the fault lines that already exist within a family. And some wounds, I'm afraid, never heal as neatly as we would like. Now then, shall we? When he showed up on my doorstep, he had the smell of whiskey on his breath, and he looked wild-eyed and anxious. Dad? I'm sorry about Vin. It shocked me so much.

I hugged him right back, and he came in, and he sat down and asked how I was doing. He was surprisingly solicitous. I didn't understand why. His usual meanness didn't come through at all until he noticed a growling Terry. You still have that little piss. Queen and reached a hand for only for her to swat it away and run away. Little shit. Her name is Terry. She doesn't pee on things anymore. Then you used to call her terrible Terry. From the button area came presses of

bye bye-bye. She wants you to go bye-bye. Well she can fuck off. Bye-bye. I didn't like the way he talked to the cat. Though a few minutes later, after she peed on On his shoes, I found his anger more understandable, and I locked her up to prevent him from harming her. He seemed genuinely sad about Vinny, and even asked about Vinny's boyfriend and his recovery after the crash. I wondered if he'd come over to try to patch things up between us. Maybe to start off on better footing, like me and Terry had, until he asked me what was going

to happen to Vinny's college fund. I haven't decided yet. I'm still processing all this. But he isn't gonna use it. I mean, even before the accident, the money you've been saving for him. He had a scholarship, right? He wasn't gonna need it, and he definitely won't need it now. It's just, I'm going through a rough patch and could use some cash to get...

Liam? You still got one son, Dad. He's gone. I'm standing right here. But it's still all about Vinny, isn't it? Always has been. You would have sold your damn house if he needed something. Me?

I gotta beg for the scraps. I bet you already cut me out of the fucking will. I did not. It didn't? No. You both get equal shares. Liam stared at me for a moment. Huh.

He looked away. He rubbed a hand over his face. I've had a few drinks. I shouldn't have come over like this. It's just... I guess I've been carrying that around longer than I thought. Look, I'm sorry for blowing up. I really am in a bad spot, though.

About that alone. I'll have to think on it. Okay. Yeah. You think. I'll make a strings. I should have known what was happening when he went into the kitchen and was fumbling around longer than necessary. I should have known, but how could I? I'd already lost one son. How could I suspect the other? How could I imagine the worst? I wanted to believe things would be better. I drank the alcohol he put in front of me with a lot of me. I'm not thinking. I assume the wooziness was just the booze. It had been a long time since I'd had a real drink.

Somewhere in the bedroom where she was locked up, Terry was howling her little heart out. I'd never heard her make those sounds, and I said I was going to let her out, but when I got up, the whole world lurched. Liam's arms caught me, and he said, got your dad. And then he kept whispering in my ear. His breath raking. Sorry. But this is all your fault. If you're just giving me that fucking loan?

I didn't start to panic. Really panic. Until he brought me up on the sofa and went upstairs with the question. You still keep your gun in the closet? The fear hit me in a wave right then. I felt like I was floating. Like I was drifting away from my body. Like I was lost in some strange.

and horrible dream. I tried to stand to stumble to the table and grab my phone, but I felt. I heard the crack of my head against the table's edge. The ground came up to meet me. Pain shot through my skull. Footsteps studded overhead, cursing as he rifled through my closet.

I tried to pull myself up again. Finally managed to grab my phone. The screen swam in my vision. My fingers were fat and clumsy as I tried to push the keys to call for help. A hand smacked the phone out of my grip. It's because he won't help me. Liam rambled as he again wrapped his arms around me to try to get me onto the sofa. Everyone knows you're depressed.

Suricidal. Can't handle Vinny's death. You should have just done it, man. If you just done it, I wouldn't have to. I'm sorry. Nobody's gonna question it. You're gonna do it eventually anyway. I just got there first.

Shut the fuck up! The howling stopped. Liam glared toward the door. His breath's coming hard and fast. Then looked back at me. Everything had become so blurry. His words were a garble. His features a haze.

I felt the cold muzzle of the gun against my temple as my heart galloped in my chest. From Vinnie's room came a sharp rustle, like a curtain or a sheet. And then the piano, the notes of a piano. The hell? Who's there? The playing continued, unsteady, but beautiful.

Unmistakably, Claire de Loon, just like Vinny had always played. But slower, halting. And I wondered. It couldn't be the cat, could it? It almost sounded like the cat walking deliberately across the keys, the same way she walked across the buttons, but impossible. He snatched up the gun and stalked toward the bedroom door.

In my blurry vision, he wavered back and forth. And when he opened the door, There at the piano was a figure flickering and impossible. A figure that both was and wasn't there. And Liam screamed and raised his arm and the world exploded as the gun went off. And then there was the yowling of the cat. And the cat came charging out all bristling like a tiger. And with her that same figure.

from the piano. And man was screaming in terror, and fired the gun again, and ran out the door. What I remember next is waking in the ER. Neighbors apparently called the police after hearing the gunshots. When I was discharged and returned home, my head wrapped from the concussion. I was relieved to find Terry whole and unharmed. She hurried over to greet me, tail up. I'd finally started picking up her body language to know a greeting when I saw it.

But it wasn't just the Tabby greeting me. I know. You see, I'd finally realize something. I can't play piano. And this cat couldn't use buttons. Not of her own volition. Maybe it hadn't been Terry talking to me all along. Maybe it was and always has been Vinnie.

And so, as I extended me, my hand and Terry rubbed my knuckles, I told her. It's okay. You don't have to worry about me anymore. You can go now. I'll be all right. Terry rubbed my hand again and again and rubbed my face when I bent my head to hers. Then she patted over to the buttons and walked across them. And I listened through my son's recorded voice. Love you. Love you. Love you. Bye-bye. Terry, uh, Terry hasn't touched those buttons since.

But every once in a while, when I'm very deep in dreams, I think I hear the sound of the piano. Thank you for your patronage. Hope you enjoyed your new relic as much as I've enjoyed passing along its sordid history. It does come with our usual warning, however. Absolutely no refunds. No exchanges, and we won't be held liable for anything that may or may not occur while the object is in your possession. If you've got an artifact with mysterious properties, perhaps it's accompanied by a history of bizarre and disturbing circumstances. Maybe you'd be interested in dropping it and its story by the shop to share with other customers.

Please reach out to Antiquet. Aquarium shop at gmail.com. A member of our team will be in touch. Till next time, we'll be waiting for you whenever you close your eyes in the space between sleep and dream. During regular business hours, of course, or by appointment, only for you, our best customer. You have a good... The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings. Lot 129.

Buttons. Consigned by Quincy Lee. Starring. Jared Griffiths and Jeffrey Allen Sneed featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer. Production and sound design by Kevin Seaman. Theme music by the Newton Brothers. Additional music by Coag,

Vivek Abyshech, Clement Panchout, Nicholas Redding, and Conan Freeman. The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is created and curated by Trevor... and Lauren Shand. Follow us on Instagram and Twitter at Antiquarium Pod. Call the Antiquarium

at 646-481-7-197.