Squinting from the flashbulbs and shaking from the auctioneer's booming voice, Jorum was finally worth something. Born 1,000 years ago in county Ding in China's Hebei province, the humble bowl was teased at bowl school for his funny name and tiny five-inch diameter. "Look at Jorum, he can't even carry enough kiwi to pass the fitness test!" Brad, The Biggest Bowl used to say. "Haha watch him try to listen to The Cure—he doesn't even have ears!"

But Jorum's mother knew better. "I know things have been tough since your father fell off the nightstand," she would tell him before tucking him into the cupboard every night. "But one day you will grow up to be a great bowl, worthy of sitting on a pedestal in the climate controlled room of a rich person's home. You will be shiny from expensive track lighting, and even if the rich person's kid breaks you after drinking a half-bottle of Absolut Pear during an after-prom party, they'll glue you back together!"

But Jorum had to wait a long time for his triumph—1,000 years (which is 500,000 in bowl years)! He carried cereal for pirates, held salad for paupers, and eventually was sold to a couple in upstate New York for $3 in 2007. He seemed destined to sit in the garage next to a dusty NordicTrack until an errant elbow sealed his fate. Then his owner started watching Antique Roadshow (probably).

Yesterday a London art dealer named Giuseppe Eskenazi thought Jorum was worth $2.22 million! After all, there is only one other bowl like him in the entire world, and it's in the British Museum (Jorum's cousin, Derek, who smells weird and is kind of a jerk). As the velvet gloves covered him in down padding, and the light disappeared from his snug travel safe, he thought about his future, sitting alone in a London flat. Hoisting the safe into an armored van, the Sotheby's minders thought they could hear someone's muffled sobs, but a car horn blared and the men strode back into the auction house.