This forty-something hippie looking dad came into the store with two kids under five and said what I heard as “Django, come in here please.”
I was judging him in a certain light until I heard him address his other son as “Boba.” And now I’m judging him for a whole different reason.
My sleeping schedule has been all kinds of messed up since I got back from FL. So, today, I got up early, did some editing, and headed to the store.
About an hour ago, I started to get very drowsy. There was no one in the store, so I put up the “Be Right Back” sign, threw on my hoodie, and walked to the very small park across the street.
Then I faceplanted in the snow.
I don’t mean I tripped and landed on my face. I mean, I was tired, and thought “Cold should wake me up!” So I spread my arms out and made a “Man Falling From Space” imprint on the snow. I didn’t “angelfy” it because moving my arms wasn’t going to make me anymore awake than just burying my face in the meager amount of snow in the park.
I have, since then, been completely awake and refreshed, and only slightly chilly.
There were about a dozen or so people around the park who saw this happen, and not one of them so much as shrugged. I’d like to think at least one of them thought, “I’m totally going to do that later.”
Thursday night loiterer comes in earlier than usual, takes my coworker outside to impress her with knowledge he gleamed from reading a poster. An hour later he comes to the counter and asks to use the phone.
"Local call?" I ask.
"Yea, I need to call my friend. I just read in Django Unchained that Quentin Tarantino chops his movies in half, and I need to know where the other half goes."
"I," don’t laugh “think you should probably wait and call him from your phone. You can use our phone for emergencies, but not for” what’s an appropriate word “casual conversation.”
"I don’t have a phone." He says.
"I’m sorry. But the phone isn’t public."
He stares. “But where do they go?”
I am befuddled. “The phones?”
He continues to stare. “The other half of Tarantino’s movies.”
"Sequels? Like Kill Bill." I guess.
"Ahhh!" And he returns to loitering.
Fifteen minutes later, he asks “Do you have the comic with the weird ending?”
Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. ”What’s it called?”
"I don’t know. Bullets?" He asks.
"100 Bullets? Stray Bullets? Kennedy And The Magic Bullet Go To Space?"
He either ignores my joke, or doesn’t get it. “No. The one with the weird ending.” Loud, exasperated sigh. “You know the one I’m talking about.”
I don’t. “I don’t.”
"Clowns and twins and guns. And bullets, you remember, bullets."
I really don’t. “I have no idea what you’re talking ab—-Bulletproof Coffin?”
"YES!! Remember the weird ending?" He asks.
"I didn’t read it."
"Why not?" He asks.
"I can’t read everything. It’s on my To Read list."
"I need issue three."
I walk over to the shelf with him. “It’s not here.”
He asks “Can you order it?”
I check. “Nope. It’s out of print.”
He asks “Are you sure you don’t have a copy somewhere in the back?”
"We don’t really have a back. It’s possible it’s somewhere else in the store, but I doubt it."
"Check your computer."
"Our computer," and this as polite as I can put it "is ill-equipped to track inventory. I can’t check it that way."
"You should really get a better computer. Your lack of technology is embarrassing.’
This is true but “I’m sorry, didn’t you just say that you don’t even own a phone?”
He stares at me, and then goes back to loitering.
A Befuddled Looking Woman enters the store, turns in a circle and announces “This isn’t Newbury Comics.”
Me: “That’s right.” I proceed to giver her directions.
BLW: “It’s very confusing having two comic book stores in the same block. You should move.”
Me: “There are also several clothing stores on this block. Do you think they should move to stop confusion?”
BLW: “But people actually want clothes. Who wants comics?”
"SeaWorld invites you to experience the power and beauty of our Shamu family in our nighttime holiday show: Shamu Christmas- Miracles. Thrilling seasonal music rings out and killer whales soar through the air in a story of reflection and understanding… of peace and friendship… of the everyday miracles that surround us all year long. From the sweeping vocal majesty of our soundtrack to the heart-pounding excitement you’ve come to expect from our Shamu family, this performance will take you on a stirring voyage into the heart of the holidays."
Because I’m often behind the bar, paying partial attention to poets, and some to people ordering drinks, I listen for certain cues as to how to react to poets. There is, traditionally, a length of pause often referred to as “an applause break”. I heard one and was just about to start applauding when the words before the “applause break” sank in.
"This is for my friend, Charley, whose mom died last week."
Random Customer: “I’m looking for something educational and scientific in graphic novel form. Say, something behind the origin of The Big Bang.”
Me: “I can’t think of anything that really fits that. There’s a cartoon history of the universe. Oh, and we have a whole section of science related comics right there next to the Feynman graphic novel.”
RC: “A fine man.”
Me: “Feynman. The physicist.”
RC: “Never heard of him. Oh, The Walking Dead? Is this related to the TV show?”
Me: “Yes, the TV show is based on it.”
RC: “Science enough for me. I’ll take it.”