Last Day

It was late afternoon, and our staff line up has changed since we last spoke; but more on that later.

I was logging some reorder requests when I heard a deep voice breathe in wonder:

“It’s beautiful!”

I turn casually and notice Solarian Ring of Justice guy. I immediately shift my weight and sigh, still typing, and not really resisting a glance at the new kids who were staring at him in echoed awe and barely controlled excitement. Because everytime this guy shows up, you know a story is coming.

Let’s just get this over with. “See anything you like?” I say brightly, turning away from the computer.
“Hello!” he short-circuits himself in surprise.
“Hi.”
“Have you ever seen anything more beautiful and more perfect in your life?” Solarian says in a low whisper, transfixed as he caresses the black Silver Surfer t-shirt in his hands.
“That’s the Silver Surfer. He’s one of your favourites huh?”
“His name is Norrin and his planet was in danger. And because he was noble and because he was wise he gave up his life in order to save it.”
“Well he made a deal with Galactus right?”
“Yes! Yes he did! But Galactus wasn’t going to eat his planet!” His eyes became wide with a paranoid concern; “NO! THAT WASN’T HOW IT HAPPENED!” Solarian slams his hand on the counter, the sound muffled against the black cotton.
I lean back and spot a customer who was gripping a comic in his hand and stupidily he stepped forward “It was a meteor that was threatening his home planet. Galactus swore that he could stop it, if only Silver Surfer could become his herald.”
Solarian turns to the guy and says in a slowly rising voice “That.Was.What.I.Just.Said. I JUST SAID THAT!”

Nice. I started a fight with a single misinterpreted sentence.

I sigh deeply and try to change the conversation back to work “So, Silver Surfer, he looks great on that shirt huh?”
Solarian stares the much smaller and much meeker man into submission, and as the other customer turns away Solarian turns back to me.
“He had a girlfriend, with fire for hair.”
“Sorry?”
“Norrin. His girlfriend was beautiful, with long hair made out of cosmic fire. Her name was Nova”
“Um, sorry can’t recall her. Only Nova I know is a dude. He did have some long hair in the late eighties though. He’s still around; so what about that shirt?” I say quickly, without thinking.
“Nova was a woman” Solarian says, licking his lips nervously.
“Um, maybe you are thinking of Cassandra Nova?” I continue my vague talk, foolishly forgetting who it was I was talking to here.
“YES!” he said stabbing the air three inches from my chest, across the counter; surprising me into a frown.“-AND she was a woman! Sexy. Smart. The whole package.”
At this stage, one of my co-workers mutters “Too bad she was bald and an X-Men villan”
I watch Solarian fiddle with the tag as it was his turn to be stared down. No-one invades my personal space without a reprimanding death stare.
“It really is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It’s so glorious. He was a scientist, a man full of worldly knowledge that stood up to the Devourer of Worlds. A real hero. My hero.” He finally says, a thick hand still tracing the silver puffy painted design.

I smile weakly and respond “It’s not that expensive, $29.95.”
“Really? I can afford that. Will this fit me?”
“No; because that is a medium and you’re gonna need an XL”
“Okay.”
I motion for a co-worker to fetch the appropriate size and watch them struggle for a bit, but finally reaching a silent agreement. My co-worker rolls his eyes at me as he dumps the shirt before me, and leans back against the counter, not saying anything.
As Solarian reaches into his pockets for his wallet, I notice the freaked out customer from before give me a terrified glance and I smile apologetically back; well what else could I do? Solarian may be crazy, but he’s a paying customer. Plus the guy looked suburbian as all hell; a little City Crazy action never hurt anyone. I turn back to Solarian who dumps his ratty wallet onto the counter and starts pulling out $20 bills, all crumply and greasy. He stops at $60 and asks “Is this enough?”
“Yeah, but take one back.”
“You don’t need it?”
“No. You do.”
He smiles at me and coughs his rattling smokers cough.
“Want a bag?” as I finish putting it through on the register.
“Yes please.”
I place the receipt with the shirt and begin to hand the plastic bag over when he says bluntly:
“I need to take that out.”
“The receipt?” I say watching him fumble inside for the small slip of paper.
“Yes. It is an Important Document; and I keep all my Important Documents in my wallet. Most people these days put those in their mobile phones but I don’t. It’s all in here.” He says, showing me the dirty scruffy interior of his wallet; stuffed with pieces of paper, scribbled notes and cards.
“Mobile phone?” I ask, but mostly to myself. How can one keep a receipt in a phone?
“Yes, and I don’t need one.” he says proudly, placing the receipt in his wallet, stuffing it into his back pocket and holding the bag loosely to his side.
“Alright?” I say for not having anything else to say.
“My uncle had a phone. Made out of wood, really nice and it was able to communicate with everyone on the planet. He kept it in his house. It was his house phone, you know what I’m saying?”
My co-worker mutters under his breath “No...”
I nod slowly “Sure..”
“A phone so powerful it could do anything a mobile can do but better and twice over because it came from the earth. You know what I mean?”
I realise my jaw had come somehow unhinged and I snap it shut “Yeah, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it right? “
Solarian grins widely and snorts happily. “Bye! I have to get home before my parents’ murder me in my sleep! But by God this is a beautiful thing!” he says bringing the bag to eye level and squinting at it through the thick plastic.
I notice my other co-workers exchanging looks and I scratch my chin, thankful this was my last day before a very much needed 11 day break. “Goodbye.” I say finally.

Solarian leaves and before he walks through the door he breaks into song “Silver Surfer! Herald of Galactus! OH YEAH!”

I grin and turn to my two co-workers who burst out laughing.

Quote of the Day

The Fly (possibly not his real name) comes up to the counter to buy a copy of Amazing Spider-Man.

The Fly: 'Just put it in two paper bags.'

Me: 'You need two paper bags?'

The Fly: 'Yes, because I have something wet. Because I just brushed my teeth. You know what I mean.'


- I don't. I really don't.

Apparently He's Good.

Me: 'Hi, can I help you?'

Him: 'I’m just having a look around thanks. I made everything here.'

Me: '...Everything?'

Him: 'Pretty much everything here, yeah. There's one or two I didn’t. I’m the Batman. I’m getting ready to retire now. I’ve finished law now and now I’m getting ready to retire.'

Me: - absolute silence. a tumbleweed may have rolled by.

Him: 'I'm just checking up on everything. The Australians should be back in about 400 years. So yeah, I’m good.'

How Much? Too Much! Kmart.

I was going to write about the Resin guy and Bullseye, wasn't I? Damn this week has been so full of freaks, that I am indebted to the Freak Gods from providing a more than generous amount of comedy gold. So I am going to be brief on this one. What made this incident so interesting, was the maniacal glare the guy kept giving Bullseye, and Bullseye really couldn't cope.
"What is the Thor head made out of?" The man said, his voice a fast drawl and eyes not wavering not even blinking.
"Uh, it's made out of Resin" said Bullseye, looking more uncomfortable than usual. People usually don't stare at him so intently unless they want to punch him.
The man keeps on staring "Resin? Exactly what is Resin?"
"It's a derivative of plastic" Bullseye said, lazily typing and clicking his way through Wikipedia.
"But what's it MADE OUT OF? WHAT DOES IT FEEL LIKE!? What is it's chemical proprieties?" the man spits out, eyes darting all over the shop, his hands palm down on the counter.
I step in. "It's a type of plastic modellers use, because it can be cold cast into any sculpture" I left it like that because I just wanted him to fuck off. Bullseye at this stage had turned pale and was staring back at the man in fear, much like a deer staring down the barrel of a sawed off shotgun
"BUT WHAT IS IT MADE OUT OFF!?" the man nearly foamed.
Bullseye regains control and starts stammering "I can show you Thor if you want, maybe you want a closer look?"
"I want to see all of your Resin statues, I want to see what Resin is made out of, I want to touch..." He said staring at the display cabinet and moving slowly towards it. I smiled as Bullseye slunk behind him. And cruelly picked up a comic, and made my way to the storeroom.

Cover of the Week

Thursday night Aerobics class was relocated inside an Alien Eye this week.
Green Lantern: Let me out of here! I don't want to tone inside this eye!
Batman: Stop complaining, Softie, feel the burn!

Well. so Resin Guy was a little, let's say UNHINGED for a lack of a better word. Apparently he ended up buying a Wolverine statue which pretty much certifies him insane anyway, so let's move on to the star of the show.
Me and Kamen were lazily spending a wet Sunday verbally abusing each other, as we always do and we almost missed it. Kamen spots him first.
Kamen: Shit! It's Too Much guy!
A large bellied man with missing teeth waddles into the store. Breathing heavily and unevenly.
I rub my hungover eyes. Really? Today?
TMGuy: It's R2! It's R2! Where is D2?
Me: That is R2D2.
TMGuy: How much? I say I say you can't have R2 without D2. Too Much!
Me: Uh..
TMGuy: How much is Batman? How much is Superman? Clark Kent is too much! Too much!
By this stage he was getting excited and touching every DVD we have in our Comic DVD section.
TMGuy: At Kmart. In Kmart you can get 2 ones but you can't get a single. All singles in Kmart. How much is one? I say... TOO MUCH! But oh yesssss Superman..... oh.
He stops and stares at a DVD ROM of Captain America comics.
TMGuy: Who is this?
Me: (hand on chin, slightly amused while Kamen is silently laughing himself into a series of incurable cramps) Captain America.
I say after reading the large unmistakable typeface on the front of the DVD case complete with iconic figure of the Cap.
TMGuy: Where I live, there is a Kmart, they sell everything cheap. Real cheap, I can get everything there... but not singles. Can't get singles. I can get this, but in doubles.
He said holding a limited edition DVD copy of the HD-DVD version of Smallville Season 5.
Me: Ah-Huh....
TMGuy: (looking at the statues and various merchandise) Spider-man, Super-man, Lois and Clark, too much-too-much. How much?
Me: About $100 each.
TMGuy: Oh. That's okay. Not too bad.
Kamen and me are just openly staring at him now.
Hawkeye, who had been witnessing the whole thing, mumbles something and grabs a couple of CSN's. (For the layman, that's a free comic newsletter)
Hawkeye: Here. You have some of these. They are free.
TMGuy: Too Kind. Too Kind.
(He said this while rubbing them on his chest and eyeing the magazine section)
TMGuy: That is Spider-Man! (pointing at a Wizard Magazine), that is Telephone Booth! (pointing at a Dr Who magazine)
Me: No, that's a Dr Who magazine.
TMGuy: The Doctor! The Doctor charges me too much! Like this Guy! (grabbing a Star Wars Insider magazine) Who is he again?
Me: That's Darth Vader.
TMGuy: Oh Dark. Very Dark, almost black.
(At this stage he had waddled to the donation candy box that was sitting on the counter)
TMGuy: I'm going to buy a tin of coke. 2 for one. Cheap. That's cheap.
Me: What, gin and coke?
(I wanted a drink so bad by this stage that I no longer saw a fat man in front me, but a giant keg of Pims and Lemonade)
TMGuy: No, No, TIN of coke! I love the sugar. Love the stuff. Gotta have it. How much, How much, 1 for 3 for $1? Too Much! Too Much!

He waddles off. Free newsletter in tow. And after he walks out, a grown man wearing a Pokemon hat comes in, followed by an ancient lady with long orange tresses and a fake rose stuck on top of her head. They both corner Kamen, who is holding his head in a corner.
"Nexus!" They chime together
"Nexus!" they chime again, looking more intently at Kamen's vacant expression.
"They are in the Darkhorse section Kamen, I'm sure you can handle this one" I say, looking wearily at the clock.

Idiot Day

Sundays are usually calm, relaxed and full of coffee time idled by casually flipping comics. Bliss.
But the last two Sundays have been filled to the brim with idiots, wall to wall morons. Ceiling to floor pests that love to test my sanity. I am used to stupid questions, but sometimes they even surprise me:

Me: (picking up the phone) Good afternoon, The Comic Shop.
Woman: Is this a comic shop?
Me: (sighing) Yes
Woman: My boyfriend likes those comic book people, and I want to get him a present.
Me: What sort of comic book HERO does your boyfriend like?
Woman: The one dressed in black.
Me: Does he have pointy ears and calls himself Batman?
Woman: I don't know. But I would like to get him something he doesn't have already. Will you be able to tell me?
Me: Tell you what?
Woman: What he doesn't have?
Me: Uh I don't know your boyfriend .... But you are more than welcome to come to the shop and see what rare collectibles we have. There is a large chance that he doesn't have those, unless he is a regular collector and comes here often.
Woman: He doesn't go into your store. He goes to another store to get his comics.
Me: Great, then come on by and pick something out for him.
Woman: Are you sure it's Batman he likes?
Me: (Hands once again clenched into fists) I do not know, it's the only hero that I know who is dressed in black and is very popular. Unless he likes Catwoman, Black Canary or Zatanna. Is it a female or a male?
Woman: But he doesn't like animals, he likes a comic book person.
Me: (hands shaking, wanting desperately to hang up) Come by the shop and figure it out. You might see a picture of the hero your boyfriend likes and we can go from there.
Woman: Thank you so much! I'll be there next week.
Me: Bye now.
Woman: Bye!

Me: (Turning to Bullseye) Do you think Ming can give me the entire week off next week?
Bullseye: Why?
Me: I don't ever want to speak to that woman again. In fact I no longer want to speak to anyone again.

Bullseye was not spared either on Idiot day, he was mauled by a man with a blank stare inquiring about Resin and the Thor oversized bust he still have instore. But I am too weak to write about it now. But soon.

Where did all the Freaks Go?

Amongst the stories that have been collected in a sordid notebook, I say Bonjour. I am only saying it in French to piss Herr Starr off. It really HAS been quiet, not much has been happening at this front, apart from me dodging a few people, and being confronted by some.
First of all, I haphazardly edit my posts, so your little snide remarks about my spelling, grammar and how I was "weak" in expressing my opinion, let me just say that in the comic book world, opinion is changed more times a day that a colostomy bag, and in here speeling and witing doesn't mattrs.

So I was thinking about letting you all know about the couple that accosted me with their unhealthy Donald Duck obsession, on and on about insurance and quality cost price, but what's amusing about that? I palmed them off to Kamen, and Karma decided to punch me, by being forced to listen to the woman talk about her immense "Black Labrador" figurine collection, she actually hunted me down to inform me that she had over 2000 and that not two were the same. She actually kept switching back and forth between Labradors and Donald Duck, (I was hoping she'll snap, like a violin string and say something fucked up like "Black Donald eats Chow and Daisy") and her husband was one of those creepy men that should have been be a wino but somehow ended up with money. He reminded me of Aliza's father in My Fair Lady.
I hated them. Only because they made me visualise what their house would look like and now I can never be the same. Ever.

But the real reason for writing, was a little gift curtsy of Freaky Friday:

Man: (opening his mouth wide and licking the sides of his lips in a grotesque manner) Do you have Smurfs?
Me: Where?
Man: In the store? Like figures of them. (Still licking his lips, this times ONE eye widening in his face as he waited for me to speak, and my eyes could not tear themselves from the drool he was dragging all over his face)
Me: (stammers) Uh no we did have them and uh, we sold out....
(I frown, how did his eye do that?)
Man: (Looks over his friend and flicks his tongue to lick repeatedly at his own top lip) They don't have any smurfs Toby.
Friend: (Looks disappointed) Aw...
Me: If they ever decided to make anymore we'll definitely get them in. They are very popular.
Man: (Looks back at me and sticks his tongue so far to the left of his mouth I thought he was going to eat his eye) Ok. We'll I'll guess we'll keep looking forward to the day. Ta!

What is so provocative and desirable about small blue people? Actually, to tell you the truth, I really don't want to know.

Cover of the Week

"I like it when you touch me...here"

Special Mention

"I am so BUFF!"
"I AM SO BUFF"

In Absentia

Short flashback to a week and one day ago.

Me: (reading Black Canary #1) This is the lamest piece of shit I have ever read.
Kamen: (fixing the new release shelves) Oh that? Yeah it's dreadful. Read "Green Arrow Year 1", that's much better.
Me: But I thought she was like...your dream girl and can do no wrong.
Kamen: Oh no, she can't. But her writers are fucking morons... wait... she's not my dream girl
(He added that last part quite defensively and with that stupid squak he does at the end of every sentence where he is praising the Canary)
Me: (Still reading) Oh my Lord. She has a CANARY call?
Kamen: Yeah man, it's what she does.
Me: (laughing hysterically) Horrible! And all it does is stun! Hahaha!
Kamen: (fixing shelves and obviously not wanting to join in my jeers)
Me: Man she's lame...
A customer suddenly is standing close by, half hidden by the hideous Mickey Mouse statue. He clears his throat.
Me: (putting the book down) Oh I'm sorry. Can I help you?
Customer: For the record, Black Canary is very cool. She is not lame.
Me: (raises both eyebrows) She's totally lame. To me that is... (when the customer opened his mouth to protest) but you know, we are all entitled to our opinion.
Customer: You're wrong. Black Canary is an awesome character.
Me: You know... I have come across your kind before. At every convention I escape near death just because I didn't dig the latest latex clad vixen with shit powers. Time you guys got a sense of humour.
Customer: She's COOL. Where are the Superman trades?
Me: (wrinkling my nose) This way please.

I told him I had a right to an opinion didn't I? Funny how fan boys become the very dogmatic reality they loathe when someone "attacks" the fictional embodiment of their perfection. How very Lex Luthor of them.

Flying Dutchman Part Deuce: The Freakening.

Ok, It's shipment day today. Not only is it Friday, and a day late, but we are all tired, all sick, all dealing with our own shit and none of us particularly want to work an eleven hour shift today.

"Good Lady Young Morning" *snort*
Please god no, please god no, please god no. It CAN'T be, it's too early for you. I've had no coffee and i'm all alone.
*sigh* I raise my eyes to look at the distorted chuckling face of the Dutchman.

"oh i have just missed you so much i couldn't bear to stay away" *snort*
I laugh uncomfortably.
"See, that is what we men do, say things in a funny voice to hide our hidden desires"
What now? I glance at my watch. I know it's only 10.30 but SURELY April will come strolling through the door any moment to field this unwanted crazy. I am sick and i am grumpy and the last thing i want is a grown man garbling at me in Yoda speak.....something i have no patience for even when it's Yoda, DURING in Star Wars.

"Please to tell me if there is anything good coming in this week". Scans the list. "Dark Xena, what is this DARK Xena? And Pain Killer Jane? Is this like Valium Fixer?" Deep chortling laugh.

He looks down. Gasps. "Dear GOD. Is THAT where Batman's been hiding all this time. Lucky comfy bastard. This is my envy voice"

I cringe. Look down. Remove the Batman from my shirt. He's never going back. Trouble and i are through.

In his best Terminator voice... "I am off now....I'll be back"

Well guess what? I won't be here. I am signing off to shower myself under the water cooler out back. NOTHING warrants this pre coffee. It's gonna be a looooong day.

Infuriating Yet Neccessary.

I want to get this out so I never write about it again.

Me: Good Afternoon.
Stupid Person: Looney Gold Finger Ranging my Cynical.
Me: Excuse me?
Stupid Person gives a deep heartfelt sigh like they have just realised they are talking to an imbecile and must fine tune their words to a lower vibration to be understood.
Stupid Person: Lone Ranger. That's LONE RANGER issue 7...
Me: Due in today I'm guessing?
Stupid: Guessing or not, can I go now and pick it up? Is it there?
Me: It's not here because the shipment has been delayed till tomorrow afternoon.
Stupid: Tomorrow.......(voice trails off like a child still eyeing the last cookie being wrapped up and being put away.)
Me: Good day Lick tomato Grandma Fighter Jet Pilot.
Stupid: Excuse me?
Me: (exhales a deep grave pleading sigh) I said call tomorrow before you come in, to save you the trip just in case of further delays.
Stupid: Oh.

Moron.

Classic Story: The Week the Batusi took place in Zatanna's lapel.

I think sometimes Zatanna really loves Trouble. They have been having a torrid love affair for years now, and every time Trouble slams his hands down and says THAT'S IT! I've had it! Zatanna must have Trouble back. At all costs. Screw dignity and self preservation. If she has to obsessively call it in the middle of the night complete with waterworks, she will do it. It always comes crawling back, weakened by the broken voice of Zatanna's bored desperation. Last week she sought his attention by wearing a Who's Who's Series 3 Batman figure in the lapel of her work shirt. It looked like Batman was trying desperately to leave without being seen. But he was caught. And at our store... pretty girl wearing playboy type super hero in shirt is a good way to spark situational comedy.

Cust1: Why is there a Batman in your shirt?
(Both he and Zatanna turn to her lapel and instantly both turn red)
Cust1: (deadpan) .... And why am I looking there?

a couple of days earlier....

RegCustWhocan'tBeNamed: (staring) ...
Cust 2: (following Reg's stare) Is that Batman trying to escape your cleavage? How bold!
RegCustWhocan'tBeNamed: If he truly was bold he would be trying to sneak back in.

later still....

JM: (in a hushed loud voice for JM knows nothing about vocal volume adjustment) Ma'am, I don't mean to alarm you, but there is a small Batman trying to desperately crawl out of your shirt!
(Zatanna laughs in a resigned and bemused manner and I quickly distract him with King Leonidas' rippling chest in the form of the 12 inch action figure.)
JM: It came in! NO!
He theatrically slumps his back and then arches his neck to the heavens
JM: I can't take him home today! I just came for my 100 Bullets, You know who is home today...and I have to hide my figures from her
He eyes the figure with deep longing
Me: Shall I put him aside for you?
JM: (his mouth moving robotically with his eyes fixated on Leonida's crotch) I will pay for him now, but I cannot take him home.
Me: Oh go on...
JM: (tracing his chin with one finger, thoughtfully) So if I take him now, I can get drunk...
Me: (eyes slowly widening)
JM: And then it would be okay to stand around drunk in my Calvins, making Leonidas cry War with only my cats as witnesses...right?
Me: (My head jerks so it somewhat resembles a shakenod)
JM: I'll take him now.

Cover of the Week

I am about to bully Zatanna through this blog, and not in real life, because today she already attacked me with a widescreen poster of 300. And it hurt. I felt the spears and sweaty blood stains in the form of repeated abuse with rolled up paper. However, I really want her to write dammit. I'm going to use three words to get our loyal reader(s) to comment so you will have no choice but to retell your story. You think I'm kidding?

Necklace
Costume
One Leg

It's a story worth telling. That's all I'm saying.

What's with the rat? Did she catch them at it? She looks pretty pissed. Maybe she absorbed their souls and is about to turn into Fat Rat with huge bitch tits and isn't too happy about it. Or maybe she is. I can't read her psychosis like stare. Either way....best cover of the week, because it made me think. Hmmmmmmmm. Ouch.


Side Story

Sitting outside the store Wednesday afternoon, casually chatting, when me and Zatanna saw a unkept man walking towards us. Zatanna takes a drag and looks up at the sky, and I look away. You get city trained when you work here as long as we have, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. The man walked by, but stopped only to stare at us.
"I AM SO BUFF!" He screams while flexing his dusty grimy arms
"What?" I reply.
"I AM SOO BUFF! hehrh er er fhhsg fflopoo"
We both stare at each other. Then watch him as he stalks off muttering to himself.
"You keep telling yourself that..." I say to no one in particular. Zatanna starts laughing.

Achilles, the Albino and the Robots from Star Wars.

Earlier that day....I had to deal with Achilles again...I am going to let this one rip like a band-aid. Ready? First of all, he had a friend with him, a once-blonde, albino-eyed middle aged man, with an evil Santa Claus smile and greasy sleazy mitts, who reeked of Mafia. Said Mafia Albino, dumps a whole bunch of Walt Disney comics in front of me. At first I didn't see Achilles, which is a pretty hard thing to accomplish since he stinks of cigars, and wriggles his moustache in that nervous way most narcotic addicts do. I soon realised my foolishness for not being alert and ready at all times.
Me: Just these?
Albino: Yes.
Me: That will be $30
Achilles: HEY! You don't pay. I pay with discount! The glare he gives me is cold and possibly lethal, but...more importantly...He's back? I thought while staring at his stony face. How? Where? God. Why me? Is it because I told that blue haired emo to get his stick thin ass off the floor in a rude manner? Surely not, or was it because I told a man pushing a pram that was knocking everyone about to leave his child somewhere that wasn't so damn annoying? What?
I slowly nod: "Yes you get a discount"
Albino: $30? What? The prices on the comic are not the real prices? What's going on here?
He taps the counter with a heavy hand full of bling.
Me: (nervously) No Sir, they are the American prices. Achilles, the discount is on the computer.
Achilles: OK. I buy this too.
He literally puts his hand behind him and blindly grabs the large box that holds a twin replica set of both R2D2 and C3-P0. Again with the fucking Star Wars, George Lucas you have spawned enough evil, I clench my fist underneath the counter and smile.
Me: Sure. With your discount the total is $280
Albino: (leans towards the counter, getting too close to my face) You sure miss? Sounds awfully like a small discount, are you definite?
Achilles: Bah. They don't give me more.
Me: I can't give you more! My boss will not allow more, it's a saving of $60 bucks! That's awesome. Right?...
I end my sentence in mid trail and with enough mustered hope that was all dusty from my own personal misuse. Achilles frowns and the Albino begins to laugh a deep belly laugh.
Albino: Oh ho ho ho. You look so flustered, it's okay we were teasing!
Achilles greases a smile and tried to give me an eye twinkle, but it looks more like the dim eye of Death, I recoil subtly and my fake smile stays in place. Phew.
Achilles then pulls out a fat wad of $100 bills. More than 5 thousand, easy.
Achilles: Okay girl, I pay you, you deliver to Joe.
I throw a desperate glance at Zatanna, oh come on! Some help here! But she kept chatting to a customer oblivious to my pain. I slowly turn back to Archilles and take the $300 dollars he is holding out to me, all in crisp $100 bills. I inspect them, hoping to see some evidence of being counterfeit, or at least some narcotic traces but they were real and clean.
Achilles: Hey Girl! We take the comics now, but Joe is expecting you with the box. Go now and don't disappoint me.
I quickly put through the sale and hold out the change.
Me: $20 change, but Sir, you know that I can't be held responsible once they leave the store..
Achilles: What's wrong with you? You want to get mugged? You waitin' to get mugged? Just go!
Me: (mumbling) Ok...here's your change.
Achilles: What? Just go!
He takes hold of the Albino by the back and leads him towards the door.
Me: Wait! What of your money?
Achilles: Bah. Don't bother me, just don't ask for trouble.
I clutch the money in my hand and seethe. I am not auditioning to be one of your cronies in your mafia gang you silly little drug fucked man. What on earth is this? I turn and tell Zatanna who laughs so hard she has to lean on the counter and wipe little trails of tears. Oh what a dear friend you are...I grab the white large bag and storm out of the store. It's freezing and everyone is staring at me lugging this giant box in my thin work shirt. I don't need this!
When I get to Joe's, I see a gang of three men in leather jackets and gold chains playing cards. Joe is once again standing with his arms crossed over. I step into the smoke filled room. All the while picturing violins playing and expecting at any moment one of them will stand up from their card playing with a gun. I put the bag on the counter and slam down the money. Joe raises an eyebrow. "For Archilles?" he drawls.
I laugh a little too loudly, one of the men shakes his head slowly and starts rubbing his chin.
"Yes Yes. But he forgot his change you see..."
Joe: Something wrong with the money?
All three of the men look up.
I stammer: "Oh no no...he gave me too much.."
All four of them start to laugh. I swallow.
"I have it here with his receipt, just make sure he gets it, I guess..."
Joe: "You don't want it?"
Me: "No, No..it's not my money.."
All three men stand up and tower over me.
Joe: Achilles might have given you a tip?
I look at all the men staring at me.
Me: Ha...ha..uh...ha...no...I couldn't possibly...
Joe: You're OK. I'll keep it for him.
All the men sit down and go back to their cards.
Me: Thank you...Thanks guys...bye now..
I run out of the store, coughing.
I probably should have kept the money, what's the worst that could have happened? Waking up the next day with a severed Darth Vader head next to my pillow? I felt like a drug runner, already picturing the men ripping apart R2D2 and stuffing him with cocaine ready to sell on Ebay. God dammit Ming! Dealing with drug lords and selling them overpriced Star Wars figures is not in my contract!

Transvestites and the Military. Separate Encounters.

It's hard to take a Philipino tranny with stubble geeking over an oversized action figure of Juggernaut seriously. I want to say it's creepy, but it's really beyond that. I am trying to be broadminded here, but the pimples and knock knees and cheap lipstick is pretty much my limit. And it wasn't just her. 2 45 year old trannies came in one after the other in the space of two days. And they looked like those bag ladies you see still clutching those old cat porcelain trinkets that remind you of the smell of mothballs and death as they scurry and strain amongst the few garbage cans in our city.
Yet these trannies seem to have money to spend on toys (good lipstick isn't that hard to get, try not to dip into the sale bin with your male stink of cheap..I mean..."practicality"). The cashed trannie that came today even had a bluetooth piece as she was smiling with red stained teeth about the Star Wars statue of Princess Leia. One long man hand caressing the glass of the display cabinet which then caressed her cheap clashing patterned polyester smock. She even took me outside the shop so I could admire the window display with Leia as the central focal point. Since it was 7:00pm and I had given up all will to live, I stared at her as she mouthed the lines the Princess said to Jabba the Hut in the Return of the Jedi. I lean wearily on the cold pane of glass and will the cold to kill me.

After I spooked her off with the price tag, an American soldier and his buddies strolled into the shop. But it wasn't until they were at my counter that I thought anything of it.
He dumped a large variety of Marvel comics on the counter.

Soldier 1: You readin' this Avengers shit my boy?
Soldier 2: Na man, getting into the DC side of things.
Soldier 1: Are you tellin' me you haven't read Civil War yet? Didn't I lend you those SPECIFICALLY for you to read?
(I mumble the total and watch as he glares at his buddy and blindly gives me his credit card. Okaaaaay.)
Soldier 2: What of it?
Soldier 3: Don't you encourage him man, or I'm gonna put my foot up your ass for the second time tonight.
Soldier 1 (Turning to me): You read Civil War?
I nod and punch in the numbers on our machine.
Soldier 1: You on Iron Man side? or Cap's side?
Me: I'm on no-one's side. And now with Captain America being dead and all...
(I inwardly grin, cuz making it worse is my only option at this stage)
Soldier 2: (interjecting) Captain American died?
Soldier 1: Didn't I tell you to read Civil War? DIDN'T I TELL YOU? Can you hold a conversation here in this comic shop? No you CAN'T, so you shut your mouth.
Soldier 2: Well what happened then?
I finished the sale and was holding out the plastic bag to the man who was glaring at his friend with an indignant fury that I had not seen....and never want to see again. He didn't even acknowledge me.
Soldier 1: Iron Man killed his best friend, Captain America. He is living with Captain America's BLOOD on his HANDS, HIS BEST FRIEND, do you know what that does to a man?
My eyes widen.
Soldier 1: (Slowly expanding his chest and still glaring at his buddy) You read the Confession? Iron Man grievin' over Cap's body? That's just messed up, now the man's gone insane and the Hulk is going to tear him piece by traitorous piece...and you know nothin' of it.
I quickly give the guy his credit card back hoping that was enough of a hint. Oh please go away, I thought to myself, you've got Cabin fever or some shit...go away....go away...
Some more random non interesting things were said...and then as I quickly realised they weren't going away because..why would they? That's me asking too much. I tuned out, only to catch this:
Soldier 2: I think you've offended enough people let's go.
Soldier 1: You know what? There is going to be so many people pissing on my grave when I die, that I am just going to install a toilet instead of a tombstone. Let them piss, I'll have the last laugh, Ha! I'll have all sorts of crazy plumbing and shit, the works.

I snap my head around back to their conversation. What the fuck did he just say?

Ravage, get off the couch!

Disgusting

Work has been kooky. Meaning a little strange but in that endearing way that means we hate a little less and the atmosphere has been somewhat normal considering our clientele.
However, I promised I was going to post more so here it is.

Frankly, I know it's winter, I can feel the cold (duh) and with that comes the knowledge that winter makes people sick. But why do they have to be so disgusting?

Last Saturday as we were frantically working, Bullseye nudges me.
"Check that out"
I look up from the orders I was billing, and notice the kid I had seen before picking his nose a little, fully going for it.
I'm talking about one finger going so far up his nose, he was actually DIGGING without a SHOVEL. God dammit.
I frown and nod. Oh I see it - wait...Oh God...he's touching the comics!
"Quick! Make him stop!"
Bullseye shrugs. Since he does as little work as possible, for he prides himself on judging what is important for him to do and not do, he says "Fuck no. I'll catch something."
I bite my lip and consider telling Zatanna, since it was The Sandman trades he was flicking though (or flicking at, I couldn't tell from the angle I was observing him from), and I knew her blind rage would be fantastic to watch.
But it was just too gross. And she was at lunch at the time.
It reminded me of the time I caught The Master digging into his nostrils oblivious to everyone staring at him, as he was reading the latest Ultimate Spider-Man comic. And which each page he turned he was smearing his little green friends all over Bendis most mediocre work. All the while exclaiming "Spidey! You can't do that! Bendis you retarded fuck, what are you doing to Spidey?"
Hmmm...and I was remembering this little nugget of repulsion, I notice that the Nose Picker began to eat his friends.
His snotty, disease ridden friends....

I gag. I'm never touching those trades again. Well, maybe I would touch them, as I throw them into a raging bonfire. Oh and by the way this guy was about 20 years old and possibly has never felt a woman even looking at him without repulsion (and possibly never will).

Worst. Day. Ever.

This is going to be long and it's going to be painful. Enjoy.
Look, I know the obvious Comic Book Guy references here, but I feel like I am obliged to make this fucking call. First of all....Within an hour of my shift, I'm already cranky, hungry (no breakfast again) and bored with the constant barrage of Nerds wanting shit that hasn't even hit the shelf yet. Yes, I know you are getting impatient, I can hear the panting desperating over the phone. The fact that flabbergasts me is your insistant desire to MAKE ME CARE.
I don't give a fuck, suck up my apathy and make it your own. Build a goddamn sand castle of Dreams Gone Wrong. I don't care. Simple as that.
Then comes in Fedora Wearing Psycho.

"HEY YOU!"
Both me and Zatanna turn, she has the smarts to turn back to the computer when she sees his unkempt greasy green shirt flopping all over his body like a Victorian Gown, the greasy hat stuck to his head like an appendange. Me being the sucker that I am, raise both eyebrows.
Me?
"Yeah, I want to Show You Something"
"Oh yeah? What do you want to show me?" I replied, my voice muffled by repressed sarcasm. (I believe it will be my cause of death in my future old age)
He turns to the display cabinet where he points at the $450, 60's replica of the Batmobile.
"Can I see that please?"
Weeeeell....surely you can see through glass...but I bite my tongue and with a withering look at Zatanna and an angry draw of the key keeping drawer, I sigh and make my way to the front of the store.
I open the case, and as I am taking it out, I notice that the base of the mobile is fucking heavy, and I am going to need both hands. That somehow meant that Fedora had to stick his hands in there to "help" but ended up with a sharp jerk that made the batmobile slam against the glass. Losing a chip of the tail. Well, whatever the hell those car bits are called.
I inwardly sigh, and pick up the piece."It's made of a resin substance, therefore fragile..." I mutter, already picturing Ming torturing me over my clumsiness over the next 6 months.
"WHAT?" He screams. Making me almost lose my grip on the model."So it's not made of metal?" Fedora whines and snarls. Quite a feat.
"No, it's a hard resin/plaster model substance that allows the sculptor to finely sculpt the detail" I slowly say as I turn to put the model car in a safe place.
Fedora Hat begins his endless rant: "If it was made out of metal, like those Matchbox cars, it wouldn't break! And it probably would justify the cost of the model! $450!! How long has that been there?"
"Long time...maybe 4 years" I mutter again, but this time openly staring at his animated crazed look. He grabs his sleeve, pulls it up and exposes his cheap aluminium watch
"If it was made out of this it wouldn't break! WHY DON'T THEY MAKE IT LIKE THIS!?"I sigh openly and from the depths of my soul as I repeat my whole sculptor repertoire in a slim hopeless hope that he would understand. Fuck. I was so wrong.
"$450!!! And it's broken! Can you do me a deal? Can I speak to the manager?"
"Look, because it's damaged, I can see what I can do about the price. Hang on" I am giving you the abridged version because it's too tedious to write the fact that he kept going on about his fucking watch (more than three, four, ten times), and how the model should be made out of aluminium and that Ming was a crook for charging so much for a limited series that NO-ONE ELSE HAS since we only got one and we are the only speciality retailer with it STATE WIDE. And frankly, an aluminium car would be worth $4 bucks and it wouldn't be an exact fine replica, but ah...what the hell do I know, right?
"Can I put a deposit?" Fedora stops, mid dribble. At that point, Ming materialised and I heard his voice lisp "No, no deposits, she won't give you one. I won't allow it. I have had trouble with it in the past. Outright sale, pay it in full."
Fedora points at him "Are you the manager?"
Ming shrinks a little for being forced to deal with customers "Yes?"
"The tail is broken! And the base is dinged up! Can I have a discount?"
"20 percent off" Ming says absentmindedly, already bored with the freak contact.
Fedora's eyes lit up "Oh what's that?"
I reply "It will end up costing you $360"
Fedora licks his lips and plays with his stuck on hat. "I like the sound of that...Can I bring the money later?"
"Suure" I drool, catching Zatanna's eye. "Bring it next week...preferably on Monday...or Tuesday..." I notice her green eyes slit and glare at me as I grin and mouth "When I'm not working"
She slams the comics she was sorting and openly gives me Hate.
Fedora looks at the car, frowning and touching it, muttering something about having to get some money from a deal, how it will take him 3 days, how unfair the world was. How cool Batman was. How much he liked it. How cool Batman was. I nearly fall asleep at his incoherent masturbation over the model.
"Can the boss touch it up? HEY BOSS!" he yells as I nod wearily. Whatever. Ming jerks and looks up from his paper work. "Excuse me?"
"Will you touch it up for me, make it look brand new for $360? I can't have it for less?" He pulls out his wallet full of $50 dollar bills. I am so sick of this guy that I say "Have it for $350"
"She said I could have it for $350 BOSS. I want it! I will be back Boss! Make it brand new!" he says pointing at Ming .
"Sure, come back in half an hour" Ming says as Herr Starr comes walking out to check out the noise, only to stop mid step and turn back to the store room. Tossing one sentence at me as he opens the door: "Get rid of him"
I shrug and watch Fedora leave the store. Ming slides over and says "He won't be back, so put it back on display, I'm off to eat and will come back with the glue soon" He grabs his jacket and heads out. I stare at the door. Not quite sure if Ming was right or not.

As the minutes turn into 15 minutes, I am wrapping some comics for a customer when The Flying Dutchman comes in. The Dutchman deserves no introduction. I fucking hate the guy so bear with me as I take you on a Eurotrip that will make you glad you are not me and if you are Dutch, I assure you I don't judge your nation by this insane creature. I blame Satan himself. Yes, I blame Joss Whedon and possibly the Darkness. Hell, all of Image comics, they are all to blame.
"Oh fair maiden! Lovely you be! Has the new Buffy comic come in?" The Dutchman trills, adjusting his oversized backpack within his large burly frame.
I scan more comics that the next customer starts piling in front of me, and I don't look up. I know who the fuck this was."You got #4 right?" I say in a loud clear voice so he won't lean over and sing to me like he did last time "I can't hear your duuuuuulcet tones my dear!" I shiver.
"Yes! Why YES I did! And I enjoyed it so muchly that I MUST know what happens next!" He sings.
"Next issue, #5, won't be in until August, it's being delayed, you're going to have to wait." I say scanning the last of the comics "That will be $30" I say to the unfortunate soul, who just hands me his credit card while staring at the Dutchman with the look of horror in his eyes. Pfft. Newbie.
"Oh" The Dutchman frowns not caring or aware that it's June. "Then I will come back next week! To check if it came in!" The middle aged dutchman catches my eye and smiles. "Lalala, Joss will write it soon!"
"No he won't, and it won't be in next week, because it's due in August" I say impatiently. At this stage, let me remind you that I have tried to be nice to this guy and have tried (much to the disgust of my co-workers) to treat him like a human being, and you know what I got? I got snorts and giggles and rubbing and touching. Fuck that. No more.
I grab our public listing of New Releases.
"Here is a list of the comics that are coming in week by week, you can read that and see what's coming in, you can even check it out on our website. You don't have to come into the store." I continue in my head "Ever."
The next customer piles some comics in front of me again and I start scanning, glad for the distraction. The previous customer is still clutching his comics and openly staring. His receipts still littering the counter."Oh my dear girl! You assume that I know how to read!" The Dutchman giggles scanning the list. "I buy comics to look at the pretty damsels and gents!" He snorts and stupidly grins, thinking that his joke was going to send me into hysterics. Fine. I'll play ball. "And here I was assuming you were in it for the speech bubbles.." I drool grabbing the cash one of our regulars were offering. We locked eyes and I could see the Pity.
At this point I heard Bullseye's unmistakable snickering. Bastards. The whole lot of you.
The Dutchman frowns and begins to...well...incoherently say something along the lines of
"Joss. Betrayal. Buffy. Should Come. Fairy Dust. Doughnuts. Evil. You are Pure Evil my dear."
only to finish up with "I shall come again. When the next Buffy is in. July shall not see me grace your store. But maybe if Joss changes his mind, I will pop in from time to time."
I force a smile. Fuck off.
"Yeah sure, See you around."

Are you bored yet? I have had 6 gin and tonics, stumbled home from my local drinking establishment to drown more Vodka here. I am having a drunken ball, AND I have 30 minutes till my bedtime...So have a cigarette, some coffee and wonder back ready for The Return of Fedora.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE RETURN OF FEDORA

20 minutes turns to 40, and Ming comes back and asks for the Batmobile. "Put it on that desk and I will fix it, even though he won't be back." He stops. "He won't be back right?"I shrug and head to the display cabinet. I pull it out of the case only to turn and see Fedora standing there. In surprise I almost drop it. "$350! Is it fixed yet?" He goes to grab it out of my hand.
"No! More touching up! I have to go and give it to the boss, please wait a moment" I stammer and hurry towards the office cursing and snarling at the small children in my way. Zatanna and Bullseye stare after me. Zatanna recalls how I disappeared into the storeroom, stepping over Usagi who was unpacking the merchandise boxes from the trolley.
"WHERE DID SHE GO? WHERE DID SHE GO WITH MY BATMOBILE?" Was what Fedora screamed when he realised I was gone. "DID SHE GO IN THERE?" Fedora tried to wedge himself between the boxes to push himself inside, Usagi stopped him with a cold stare.
"She's gone out the back, man, she'll be back soon, just wait."
"Can I go in?" Fedora said trying to look inside.
"No" He said, rolling his eyes and heaving out boxes. As I passed Herr in the storeroom, he says "I told Ming he'll be back, and to deal with this Live One quickly. Now he's just out to cause PAIN." He didn't know how right he was. And it wasn't just the fact that Herr could hear him from an easy 10 meters away. At this stage I also didn't realise that Ming already knew he was back and was whipping out his marking up model tools shaking his head
"You've got to be fucking kidding me. I didn't think he'd be back."
Herr frowns at Ming's creepy sudden materialisation "And now he's going to be in there waiting for you, when he would've just paid for the fucking thing and gotten the hell out"
I sigh and loiter in the storeroom, too afraid to look down the corridor to the door or to even go back out there.
"Herr! Get the box! It's up there! April! Go back there and get him to fill in a release form with all damages accounted for!" Ming barks and disappears once again into the office. I step back out and the last thing I hear is Herr saying to Usagi how they are going to need a ladder to reach the dusty 6 year old box. I close the door and meet Zatanna's wide eyes as Fedora is yelling at her in his weird deep gravelly voice:
"Those fucks better not fuck with my Batmobile, it cost me MONEY and if they BREAK IT, I am going to BREAK THEIR FACE.......(heavy breathing) AND THEN I am going to grab their mobile PHONES and STEP ON THEM and and BREAK THEM because it's the same thing and ITS MONEY, this costs me MONEY!" Fedora's hands clenched and unclenched on the counter. He stared at me."WHY IS IT NOT MADE OUT OF METAL!?!??!" He screamed.
"WHERE IS MY BATMOBILE!?"

I hurry back to the storeroom and one the last things I hear is Zatanna's voice wearily saying "Well...I keep my statues up high and out of reach...."

What greeted me in the storeroom shocked me, Herr was doubled over in agonising pain and Usagi was running out the door with the box. "What on earth happened?" I say gingerly.
"I fell off the ladder grabbing that piece of shit box....God dammit..my fucking back." He seethes.
"Does it hurt?" I say in concern and in obvious stupidity.
Herr glares at me. "YES"
"Want some painkillers? You have - " I say only to break off and exclaim "I gotta get the model! And I have to tell Ming you're hurt!"
I run to the office to tell Ming, who thrusts the fixed model at me barking orders that made no sense as he went to check on Herr. I run back only to see Bullseye lifting the model base with Fedora hovering over him "OOOoooh look at that! The base is MESSED UP!" He then grabs the model from me as I approach."But this looks great!" He smiles. His toothy grin assuring me it was a done deal. At this stage Ming steps out, obvious to everyone he was mad and wanted this fucker out of his store. A fucker who lost him $100, injured his employee and was making everyone in the store stop and stare instead of buying comics.
"BOSS!...Make the base look new boss! Using your special batmobile paint!"
"It's a special marker actually" he says dryly grabbing an ordinary marker out of the stationary basket from the counter and grabbing the model "back in 10". He disappears.

If you want more, you're going to have to ask, I have done my part of therapy.
Also I need bliss drunken sleep....blissful....black....nothingness...

Catch Ya Later.

Random Aside....

Now, as much as you all say you don't, everyone loves a celebrity. We all get a little giggly and star struck (well at least "I" do) when we come face to face with someone we know.

I have decided, as we work in the sydney hub and are therefore prone to have the occassional celebrity shopper, to air their dirty "comic book" laundry.

Thus far i have had the pleasure of coming in contact with:

Cooheed and Cambria: Walking Dead, Wolverine and other assorted Marvel crap

Mars Volta: These boys know how to spend some serious dollars. Racking up almost a grand between them on Vertigo, DC, Top shelf and Fantagraphics titles.

Will Anderson: Daredevil trades, Buffy Season 8 singles

Xzibit: Punisher and Spidey singles (complete with cheeky grin and charming personality)

Simon Day (if anone even remembers Ratcat.....COME ON people......): actually, you know what? I don't even care what he reads. My childhood crush has been forever shattered by the day he asked me, in a whiny nasally voice, for a plastic bag some seven years ago.

That guy fom the Hard Ons, you know, the one with the dredds - cool guy, polite, likes Neil Gaiman from what i gather.

Back in the Fox days his would have been a mediocre list at best, but come on, we're scraping the bottom of the barrel here with celebs willing to walk down Pitt st in broad daylight and admit that they, too, love the comic book.

TRANSFORMERS MEETS PORTISHEAD

So we are back. Sorry for the hiatus. It actually was just time to reflect and ponder on what else we could plan for this little bubble of webspace. So uh...hang about. We have IMAGES coming soon...Images! That's pictures! And two new sections. Woo.
So, comment will ya? I know you are reading this - Bullseye's Mum.

This is a little story from last week:

"Who oo am I, what and why" warbled what I thought was the tape recorder. Hang on, that's not right. I frown and turn my head to the offending sound. Last time I heard Portishead they didn't sound like a manatee mating for the first time.

"Cos all I have left is my memories of yesterday
Ohh these sour times"

I strain to see over the display of journals to the display cabinet, and what I saw ...what I saw... ack.. sorry, I get a little choked up when I recollect this memory...mainly because I know you guys won't believe me.

"Cos nobody loves me...Its true
Not like you do.."

It was a grown man, with a dark growth of stubble, and bloodshot eyes. Singing to the new Optimus Prime Wall Statue that had come in that week.

"Only in Dreams..."

The Customer is Always Wrong... Right.

So, as freaky as Friday gets, Mondays are becoming the new Fridays, which used to be Wednesdays, and were Thursdays before that. We're not quite sure what day it was before the invention of time, like, you know, more than 30 years ago.

So, ol' Herr Starr ain't feeling the best today. Bad cold make Starr grumpy sumbitch. So the last thing I needed was an uppity asshole trying to tell me how to do my job.

Imagine if you will... It's raining outside when a grey-suited business-type man prances into the store, huffing and puffing and shaking water freakin' everywhere. Whilst he's dripping everywhere and trying to slick his greasy hair back into place, he stumbles up to the counter, and seeing me on my own, proceeds to ask me (in a gravelly geeky voice) "Excuse me, do you have the 300 Annual?"

I stare at him for a few seconds, giving him the usual half-lidded stare.

"Do you mean", I say, "the 300 hardcover?"

"No, no", he insists, "Frank Miller drew it as an Annual years ago and then released it after that into like, a collected edition" he says, sagely nodding at his idiotic incorrectness.

I sigh, and decide to correct him. I don't know why, and I really should know better, but I do it anyway. It's like sticking your testicles into a Shine-O-Ball-O. You know you shouldn't do it, but the fascination is there. So, I very levelly say "No, it's a hardcover. It's only available in a hardcover format. You can't get it any other way".

Nup. Gray-Suit ain't buying it. "Look," he says, "I've done my research. It was an Annual."

I sigh again. Fine. It's an Annual. It can be the freakin' Shroud of Turin. I just want this to end.

"So, do you have a copy?" he quips, still dripping like a sweaty shark with slowly expanding body odour, not unlike a fetid swamp in the middle of summer... on Mercury.

Now, this is the point where, in the back of my head, i start rubbing my hands. Nothing feels better than correcting an inane, self-important twit who's seen a film and all of a sudden wants everything connected to it - now. Right now.

"I'm sorry mate", I say, with every ounce of false apology I can muster, "we're out of stock".

He stares at me for a full five seconds, before he stammers on. I could've read 'War and Peace' in the interim. "What do you mean you're out of stock? How can you be out of stock of the most popular book in the world?"

I pause. "I'm sorry, we don't stock the Bible".

While he stares at me somewhat dumbfoundedly, I continue. "And about, oh, several thousand other people have come in, purchased the 300 hardcover, and that's why we're out of stock". I didn't bother telling him it's also out of print. He may not know what this incredibly technical term may mean.

"We should have some more by the end of the week," continue. "Maybe."

He finally smiles a little, thinking he's in, and his worries are over. "Okay, can I have a copy set aside for me, and I'll come and pick it up?" Smiling, I say "No, I'm afraid we can't do that. We don't hold books. Just come on past and we'll see what we can do."

At this time, he just sorta half-smiled (slimed) and stammered again. "Uh, okay, yeah, I'll try that. Thanks. Yeah". He turns to leave, and before he hits the door to finally leave the store and possibly my life, he turns around and says "Are you sure you'll have copies this weekend?"

Help me Obi-Jeebus Kenobi. You're my only hope.

Freaky Friday.

What I don't understand is the whole concept of Fridays, being consistently the day where Freaks come out to infest. It seems that something changes in the air and the total freakdom begins to become really evident, and like a tapeworm, it cannot be denied due to it's insufferable irritation. It may seem disgusting to use that analogy but I am disgusted by them, so it all fits.

Some of these sub-species parade outside the store, wanting attention by acting like they are having multiple body spasms. Usually accompanied by malaise babble incoherently themed on the merits of them NOT being nerds because they are not in the shop. I don’t know what dancing like that achieves in regards to their goal, all I know is that they look like they need epileptic prevention medication, a counsellor to help them quit crack and for my wish for air to stop traveling into their lungs to come true.

But what really gets me is that they always come inside anyway.

One of them, was a tall blonde girl with a barely there dress that due to her raising her arms and jerking her shoulders she looked like she was suffering from some sort of dementia. The fact that she was singing loudly and off key, cemented the theory.

"Is it really quiet in here? Cuz I can't hear anything! Put your hands up! Put your hands up!" She says rather loudly while putting one manicured hand up to her headphones.
I quietly wondered if she was retarded.

Her body then began to quirk and convulse, like her skin had become an alien baby that wanted to rupture through the cheap black material she was wearing. Her friends, mortified, told her to stop, while quickly scanning for the "hot" emo "guys" with low hung jeans, who usually hanged around, greasily reading the Johnny the Homicidal comics. Fortunately for them (and us) they were not around, probably at home crying to the latest My Chemical Romance album while spending Mummy's money on Ice. That didn't stop the bitch from singing though.

"Put your hands up if you want her drop dead on the spot" Herr muttered.
Bullseye laughs and puts his hands up like an eager child who knew the right answer.
Laughing at his response I wasn't able to pick up the phone when it rang, not that I needed to, Bullseye is a little Pavlov with the phone, and he answered instead.

"Hello?" Bullseye answers. Apparently silence.
"Yes, can I help you?" He persists.
"Are you the owner of the store?" The lady answers.
"No the owner of the store isn't here, may I ask what's it regarding?"
"It's about your telecommunication needs, and what we can offer you."
"Well I can tell you, straight off the bat, that the owner will not be interested"
"When will he be in?"
"Sometime next week"
"Well I'll call on Monday, when you are not working". She hangs up.

Bullseye dropped the phone back on the receiver.
"Ha! I work on Monday's!" He yells at noone in particular.
"Guess the joke's on her huh?" I reply dryly.

I began to retell the story about when one time this high on drugs or perhaps drunk, or insane. I just can't tell anymore, guy came into the store and preceeded to walk a straight line from the front to the back 0f the store, claiming just how cool Superman was. At the top of his lungs. After that giggle, Karma decided to piss me off. I pick up the phone that time.

"Is my order shipped out yet?" said a nervous voice over the phone line.
"When did you place it?" I absentmindedly replied.
"Wednesday"
"Then it should've shipped today. All the mail was sent out a couple of hours ago."
"So I will be getting it in a few minutes?"
A pause.
"No you have to give it time to get to your house...it will surely get there after the weekend"
"Oh...." the dissapointment in his voice made me so depressed...that I seethe inwardly.

What is wrong with these people? You'd think they truly believed we employ the Flash to do our postal service. Either that or they are fucking morons. After today I am afraid to really ask myself that question, I know I'd be right either way.

Pink Tie Strikes Twice

I haven't finished with the Suited up guy with the pink tie. There is more. I just couldn't write the rest because Ming came into the store all dodgy like, and I needed to secure an hour extra on my work shedule. He tried to set up a fight between me and Herr Starr, claiming it was Herr who decided to close earlier midweek. I lost an hour and I needed to corner him and make sure he didn't cheat me.

Sometimes working at the store is like dealing with the Black market and all the shifty people within. I mean, there are days where I wake up and feel for my kidneys. Just to make sure they are still there. My soul being there is always questioned...you get the drift.

So after the Suit with the pink tie and his friend who had fluffy hair but a greasy smile had stopped talking to me, they really didn't have much of a choice, once someone stares at you with contempt, conversation somewhat dwindles. I slowly walk to the counter.

Rubbing my face in my hands I hear this voice:
"Excuse me, do you have any of those violent sexual comics?"
He is not talking to me, right? I look around, hoping one of my co-workers will pick up the slack. Everyone grins and they don't say a word.
Bastards.

"No sir, we are a family store" I drool out.
"What are they called when they come from Japan?" Pink Tie asks.
"Hentai?"I say in a low voice. And when I was about to open my mouth to tell him that he has to go somewhere else, preferably under a rock as it is dropped from a very high place to oblitirate his pathetic existance, I stupidly make eye contact.

"HENTAI! THAT'S IT!" He yells out.
The 17 odd people in the store turn to look.
"Where can you get it? Can you get it in?" He says in a hushed voice, raised eyebrow leaning towards me.
"No...we are a family store...." I take a deep sigh, my face so red you could probably throw me in front of a bull and it would have been a sweet death at that moment.
"Know where I can get it?" He grins at me.

Oh ew. Ew.

Fucking ew.