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This Week's Sermon - Little Shoppe of Horrors

By Britt Schramm

October 4, 2004

About a month ago, here at the Longbox (”Dream Into Action”), I shared with you guys (and gals) my dream of opening a comic book store. And the response that was received was very positive. However, it’s still a dream right now. So, I probably won’t see it come to any type of fruition until I’m in my mid fifties. In other words, the dream is just taking an extended nap for right now.

But in the present, I work once and awhile at my local comic book store on Sundays. The owner is a very good friend of mine and during the week, we talk about the goings on with the almighty distributor and with the publishing companies themselves. I really enjoy these conversations because they’re not only informational about comics in general but they show me that there are some things that go on behind the scenes of being an owner that are not only humorous but quite shocking.

Another reason I like working part-time at the store is the fact that I actually get paid for hanging out at the store, reading comics and every once and awhile, jockeying the cash register. On those lazy Sundays, it feels like I’m escaping the “real world” and that I am one with the Comic Universe (but not in the power-mad Comic Book Guy-type way).

But there is one part that I dread – it’s the customers. Not the normal, average Joe customers, mind you. Most of the time, I enjoy talking to them and arguing what’s a good read (like “Losers”, “Blankets”, and “Astonishing X-Men”) and what’s not (Liefeld’s “X-Force”, “Avengers: Disassembled”, and “Batman: Gotham Knights” prior to the recent “War Games” crossover). It’s the really my store’s off-kilter gang of regulars that often get under my skin. And it seems like every time that I pull a shift there, I find myself wanting to leap over the counter and throttle them when they walk in the door.

I don’t know what it is but maybe comics bring out the weird in people. You don’t believe me? Well, then, sit back and listen to my tales of truly wacky customers that have passed through my store’s door. The anecdotes are real but I won’t divulge their real names as they’re so far out there that I’m afraid that a couple of them will snap like dry kindling if they knew I was funnin’ them.

• Middle School Fanboy – This one is a real character. You see, his dad drops him off at the store around 1 PM and doesn’t come back until about 2:30 PM. (It’s probably because the dad has to go to his girlfriend’s house to relax and the comic book store is the only place that won’t kick him out). Once he’s in the store, he starts talking about comics, which is cool. These days, there are not enough kids that are reading comics in my opinion. But that’s when he starts to get weird. The boy just drones on and on about subjects that he just read either in Wizard or off the internet. Still, that’s not too bad once he’s been set straight on some of the incorrect info that he has been using. (Hey, not all comic book columns can be as truthful as mine. I am the voice of reason amid the comic book community’s sea of insanity.) But then, he tries to glom on to all of my conversations with other customers that come in while he’s looking around the store. This is where things get dicey. To me, the reason that the kid is speaking up is not just to add his two cents and feel superior over the misinformed (like himself). It’s because he wants to be accepted so badly that he’s willing to irritate anyone in his general vicinity. And I can’t shake him. He hangs around the store for what it seems like forever. Then, when his dad comes to pick him up, the kid has the nerve to only buy three books after I basically babysat him for a couple of hours. I guess that’s cheaper for the dad than getting a real babysitter and easier than spending time with your son on the weekend. Sometimes I feel sorry for him; I said almost.

• Furry Lover Man – This “cat” comes in and gets his books from his subscription box. In between a couple of superhero books and an occasional Dr. Who magazine, there’s usually at least two books that have some “adult” content usually including the letters “XXX”. But there not the traditional whack off books from such companies like Eros, Avatar or the occasional Fantagraphics book. If you have never been exposed to this style of comic book, let allow me to explain because I feel that this column should be informative as well as entertaining. These books, usually in black and white, contain anthropomorphic or “fun-loving animals with human-like bodies as well as man’s sexual wants and needs” which is really a way of glossing over the fact that they’re all about the “furry porn”. If you haven’t seen these books in Previews, it’s probably because these types of books are the ones where their solicitation will never have a cover artwork shown for it. Or if there happens to be a cover of the comic shown, there’s a huge black circle covering all of “Bambi’s” and “Thumper’s” nasty bits. Recently, the “furries” movement has hit the mainstream culture thanks to the “CSI” episode featuring a dude dressed up in a raccoon suit getting blown away by some bumpkin rancher with cataracts thinking he was a rabid animal when actually he was drugged by his girlfriend and dumped off on this rancher’s property. Good stuff, by the way. Hopefully, IDW will put that in a “CSI: Behind the Scenes” one-shot soon. But it’s not just this guy’s unnatural curiosity towards all things furry that pisses me off; it’s his attitude. The guy walks in with such an air of sanctimony that I’m overcome with a desire to be Michael Bolton (from Office Space, not the tragically white soul singer) and pretend that this guy is a fax machine. I’ve never seen a 5 foot 5 inch pudgy male-patterned baldness dude act as superior as this guy does. I’m sure that not all furry people are like this guy but c’mon, he loves getting his schlong all worked up over some sexy skunk getting it from behind by some mule dick and then he’s gonna act all indignant with me. I don’t think so, bub.

• Star Wars Dark Horse Lady – This woman is just plain scary. She doesn’t have a subscription box but still comes into the store to ask if any there are any new Star Wars by Dark Horse comics out this week. Her monotonous voice reminds me of the Saturday Night Live character “Pat” but without the sexual ambiguity. And yet, when I tell her of the ones that have come in, she sighs and starts going on about the whole Star Wars continuity like Anakin could never had made C3PO and then miraculously have the ‘bot end up in Luke’s possession or something like that. I’m sorry if I don’t have the specifics of her conversation down as I fell asleep from boredom at the time. Then there's the checkout. Normally, I try to ask just a cursory question about finding everything OK at the store. Not with her, Jack. I made the mistake of doing that once. My manager was behind the counter next to me since she was in on her day off to pick up something. As soon as I asked her that question, the store was a ghost town and my manager bailed outside faster than John Kerry flip-flops on any issue. I had to stand there and listen to her ramblings about how screwed up the Star Wars continuity was in the comics or something like that. Again, I turned off my brain after a couple of minutes of her babbling and just stood there and took my punishment like a man. Like I said previously, it will never happen again. There was also a time when she asked my manager during one Wednesday if there were any comic books featuring a gelatinous blob that travels through time. And what’s worse is that she was stone cold serious about it like this was obliviously a missed opportunity of creating a great comic by today’s current creators. Probably the funniest thing I’ve heard of while I was in the store in a long time. We were gonna make a cheap ass Kinko’s mini-book about that blob and try to sell it to her for $5 but we never got around to it. So if you’re in a store and happen to see a book about a gelatinous time-traveling blob, it means that we finally got it published and I’m living on my own private island since it will be the biggest OGN seller of all time.

• Cat Piss Man – This guy stinks. Really he does. Every month or so, he comes in to poke around at the New Release Shelf and leaf through some trades. But his problem is that his body odor is so stank that people faint around him due to lack of oxygen. It’s so bad that it seems like it’s almost visible; like Pig Pen’s cloud of dust. However, before I go any further, I want to issue a disclaimer that I’ve heard that this guy has been rumored to be under some “clinical” supervision. Now, I’m all for a brother trying to get his shit straight. But the guy is constantly off his meds and that’s when he starts to smell like an alleyway full of cat piss on a warm afternoon. The fragrance of his putrid smell has gotten so bad that my manager has actually banned him from the store until he cleaned himself up and could come in to the store without making everyone’s eyes tear up.

• The 4:55 PM Guy – Really, this is an amalgam of a couple of customers (see – “DC versus Marvel” mini-series can teach people something other than the costumes of Batman and Wolverine should never ever be morphed into one). Store closing time is something that all retail workers hold dear. Throughout the day, I usually never watch the clock (unless that fanboy kid comes in) but once the last half hour hits, I’m just stuck in a holding pattern; waiting for the clock hands turn to the twelve and the five. But it never fails. When I’m working, there’s always seems to be at least one guy who strolls in around five minutes before five and stays over fifteen minutes because he can’t seem to get here earlier than five minutes before closing. And these guys never take the hint that they’re past closing. I have to make calls and loudly state that closing time is at 5 PM. After ten minutes of this crap, I eventually go up to them and say, “Hey, ya know that the store is supposed to close at 5, right?” Then, the light goes off in his head and he gets his crap ready for purchase. Would it kill him to make the sacrifice to come in at 4:30? That’s all I’m asking for, really.

• Three Months Behind on His Subscription Box Dude – This guy usually only comes in about once every three months; hence the name. And it always seems like he can only come in on the one day of the month that I’m working. The guy gets everything pulled for his box (comics, figures, statues) and it’s a hella lot of stuff. The dude is affable enough I guess but having to ring up about 100 to 150 comics in addition to other comic paraphernalia takes away from my attempt to slack the day away. Plus trying to find the prices on some of these books is too much work in it of itself. (Mini-tangent – Is it possible for all of the comic book publishers to standardize the place where the prices of their books are gonna be listed? Sometimes, it’s easier to find Waldo’s twin brother than it is to find these damn prices. Most of the time, they’re listed in the bottom left corner on the front cover along with the UPC box, which is nice and easy to locate. Unless when the UPC is on the back of the cover along with the usual ad like all of the Loeb/Sale Marvel books. Still, at least they’re together. Then, you get some books like the recent “Astro City” one-shot where the publisher seamlessly integrates the prices along with the cover. When I’m in check-out mode, it’s all about tunnel vision. If I have to search for a price on a book and it’s not with the UPC, I have to slow down and play “Find the price” and ramp it back up again. Nothing’s worse than slowing when you want to get a customer out of your face. But, I digress.) So, why else would I get angry when I see this guy start to walk into the store? He tries to restock the shelves with the stuff that he’s already preordered but doesn’t want anymore. Tome, that’s a total dick move. If you’re going to ask the owner for a comic to be held in your box, that’s like a binding contract with him/her that you’re gonna pay for it. And to come in on a weekend when you know that the owner won’t be in is pretty low as far as I’m concerned. But that’s just me being me.