When I was in college, it was well known that every mortal being had some mutant power. Not necessarily a super mutant power, but an advantage nonetheless.
Mine was convincing women to take me and Alex out for comic books and mighty taco. No, they didn’t pay – they just drove our otherwise static asses around for an afternoon. Neither Alex nor I had a car in those days. (It wasn’t until my senior year that I got Jezebel, a 1992 Volkswagen Fox, and she only worked a third of the time.)
Anyway, each time BAStart and I talk about it, I think that number goes up, so by now we seem to remember at least fourteen trillion women taking us for rides on fourteen trillion separate occasions. More than likely, the number is closer to a dozen or so. 14? 16? 3? I forget. But let’s face it. I was a comic-reading, rpg-playing, athletically-challenged, drama-club-geek. Getting women to do anything for me was nothing short of walking on water, so even once would have been impressive.
I stopped to get gas today on Delaware, across the street from where one of my favorite comic shops used to reside. (Right next to where Louie’s hot dogs had been, at the corner of Kenmore.) Here’s what I saw:
That building and the two right next to it have been replaced with a big, construction-vehicle-filled hole. No idea what’s going to eventually go in there. In the meantime, though, my view from the gas station is of... that’s right... a church.
I tried to think about how things change, but instead got into my Lumina (which works maybe half the time). Maybe I can get Lisa to take me out for sushi and comic books later.
2 years ago