Tonight Edvard Munch’s The Scream will be auctioned off at Sotheby’s in New York. Experts are estimating the final hammer price at $80-100 million for the 1895 pastel. A friend attending tonight’s extravaganza called me on his walk to the auction.

“I think it will go for $245 million.” This ‘Scream’ is one of four. The rest are in Norwegian museums. Two of those have been stolen in recent history.

“How did you get that price?” Rals was astounded by my hunch.

“The asking is 80. 120 is an easy leap of faith, which means 160 is the next stage and then Sotheby’s will milk the buyers for every million possible, plus I’ve been hearing from sources that several buyers are willing to venture into the $200 million area.” A single girl had said that, but she was sleeping with a big dealer and bedroom talk after sex draws out the truth. “245 is high, but what’s money for these people. What about your friends?”

“They don’t go this high,” Rals was on good terms with a Middle East prince. His ear was close to the ground out there. “But the Qataris are looking for another big piece.”

“And then you have the Chinese. They want to buy this so they can sell copies online copied from the original. Let’s make a bet. $20 I get my $245 million.”

“Hammer price?” That meant another 75 mill to Sotheby’s in commish.

“Yeah.” I could lose $20 on a stupid bet. It wouldn’t be the first time and I was depending on the greed of Sotheby’s and the valuelessness of money to bring top dollar on The Scream. “Call me later and let me know.”

“Will do.” Rals hung up the phone.

I popped open a can of Modelo. It cost me $1.50 at Ralph’s Deli on Lafayette. $20 would buy two six-pack. With $245 million I could get every male in Thailand drunk.

Go Scream go.

It’s almost one of a kind.