It was two and a half years ago. I remember I was ill with the flu and a fever. I had resolved to stay in bed for the next couple of days and not move an aching muscle. My wife was at work and my son had gone to his playgroup for the day, so there would be no distractions from much needed rest and sleep. I was dead set on not moving and had dosed myself up with sudafeds and whatnot appropriately.
Then the phone rang. This guy reckons he's got some comics I might be interested in. I'd dealt with him a few times before and admittedly scored some gold off him, but the last time I'd seen him he'd been dry, and I thought that would be it. So I wasn't in the mood for indulging him in conversation. Besides, he was prone to popping over armed with books and hanging around for one coffee too long. You know the sort.
So I just asked what he had, prompting him a bit to keep him on track but not really concentrating. I didn't really care about his digest-sized westerns and romance comics and whatever other narcotic titles he was reeling off.
But then he said the magic words. Colossal Comic Annual. He continued... no number... no back cover... a bit rough... Superman and Batman standing on one another...
I've never injected but I immediately knew what a hit must feel like. I didn't ask for any more information. I didn't ask for a price. I didn't ask him to deliver. I just told him to sit tight and I'd be there in 20 minutes. And I was off like a rocket!
I have no idea how I navigated traffic in my drug-induced stupor. All I know is that an hour later I was driving back home with the above Colossal Comic Annual NN/#1 on the passenger seat, and I've never been so distracted by a comic whilst driving. I'm sure I stalled at traffic lights and probably caused accidents along the way, completely oblivious like Mr. Magoo. But I couldn't resist. I just kept looking over to it and muttering to myself: I'm sitting next to my own copy of Colossal Comic Annual #1! I can only blame some of that on the drugs.
Needless to say, it sure cleared my sinuses.
Then the phone rang. This guy reckons he's got some comics I might be interested in. I'd dealt with him a few times before and admittedly scored some gold off him, but the last time I'd seen him he'd been dry, and I thought that would be it. So I wasn't in the mood for indulging him in conversation. Besides, he was prone to popping over armed with books and hanging around for one coffee too long. You know the sort.
So I just asked what he had, prompting him a bit to keep him on track but not really concentrating. I didn't really care about his digest-sized westerns and romance comics and whatever other narcotic titles he was reeling off.
But then he said the magic words. Colossal Comic Annual. He continued... no number... no back cover... a bit rough... Superman and Batman standing on one another...
I've never injected but I immediately knew what a hit must feel like. I didn't ask for any more information. I didn't ask for a price. I didn't ask him to deliver. I just told him to sit tight and I'd be there in 20 minutes. And I was off like a rocket!
I have no idea how I navigated traffic in my drug-induced stupor. All I know is that an hour later I was driving back home with the above Colossal Comic Annual NN/#1 on the passenger seat, and I've never been so distracted by a comic whilst driving. I'm sure I stalled at traffic lights and probably caused accidents along the way, completely oblivious like Mr. Magoo. But I couldn't resist. I just kept looking over to it and muttering to myself: I'm sitting next to my own copy of Colossal Comic Annual #1! I can only blame some of that on the drugs.
Needless to say, it sure cleared my sinuses.
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