Comic Book Guy's back room

My local comic book store's sign is comprised of 8 ½" x 11" sheets, one letter printed per sheet, taped to the glass of the storefront window. It's not fancy inside either, but it has more merchandise and variety than I'd expected from it. I stopped in to see if they had Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 8, Volume 2: No Future for You, a collection of issues #6-10. (No spoilers, please.)

Two to three men and one woman in their 20s to 30s, and one man with grey hair and a salt and pepper beard, sat around a card table in the middle of the store having a vivid discussion. Clearly, they all knew each other; their voices were raised in the enthusiasm of debate. One young man in particular spoke with an excessive volume, even though they weren't talking over one another, conveying his desire to be sure they were listening to him. As I looked over a rack of new comics, I thought: There are people out there geekier than me. Their amped comic book chatter also reminded me how much of a hermit I've become.

I kept to the walls, deliberately not looking at them, unconsciously trying to shift reality: to exist in a plane that kept me in the comic book store while projecting their group into someone's living room. Part of it was not wanting to disturb what felt like a private conversation, the rest was not wanting to be drawn into it with nothing to contribute. Unsociable to the last.

To some extent my I don't see you, you don't exist approach was successful. Their talk was still loud, but I was able to ignore its content, and in turn, they seemed to ignore me. In addition, a couple of mid-to-late teenage male shoppers reinforced the feeling of "store," keeping the clerk occupied, so I could browse undisturbed.

Beyond a counter of Magic: The Gathering cards, I found the bound Buffy collection I was looking for slid in horizontally on top of a row of shelved graphic novels. There was only one copy and the cover had a couple of small knicks. If anywhere is going to bring out the OCD in a person, it's a comic book store full of protective plastic sleeves and a grading system that accounts for the most minor of flaws. I couldn't make up my mind, so I continued to look around, occasionally walking back to reconsider buying the slightly marred volume.

I knew I didn't have enough cash on hand for it, so I wandered by the register to see if they accept credit cards. They do, but only with a minimum $25 purchase which my book wouldn't meet. Well, that solves that. It had occurred to me earlier to call and ask both if they had the graphic novel I wanted and if they took credit cards, but I hung up after the first ring because I feel exposed when I get to the register and the clerk inevitably asks if I'm the one who just called.

I had another reason for making the trip though. Towards the back is an unlit room separated from the rest of the store by a sliding glass door. Taped to the door is a hand-written sign in black marker proclaiming: No backpacks allowed. Under 18 not admitted. No entry without supervision or permission of clerk.

I'd been to the store once before, but I hadn't had it in me to ask to go into the mystery room. The glass door had been closed that day and nothing inside was visible. I figured the room contained hentai or valuable light-sensitive comics, or both.

On this particular Friday afternoon, the glass door was open and there was enough light to discern some shadowy boxes on a high shelf. Determined not to be a wuss while at risk of looking like I was into pornographic comics in front of a bunch of store regulars, I asked if I could check out the room. The clerk reached in, flipped a light switch for me, and left me alone to browse.

No hentai, no comics at all, in fact. The room was full of boxed memorabilia. A chrome Doctor Who clock with a TARDIS that lights up on the hour, various Buffy and Angel action figures, an original Star Trek phaser, dolls of the original Star Trek cast on a play set of the bridge of the Enterprise, some minimally clad manga-style female figures in poses that seemed to be missing stripper poles, several action figures from Inuyasha, gaming demon armies, and more. All pricey collectible toys. I should've known.


A year ago on TTaT: Fanslaughter