thrice great hermes
by stanley lieber
adding the longbox to his daily carry was not so ludicrous as at first it might seem. the box was not completely full of comics (he’d recently upgraded from a shoebox), and there was plenty of room in the back where he could shove small bits such as tools or snacks. the cab of the truck was now completely full. he still fastened the passenger side seat belt around his backpack, even though with the compartment now packed tight it was no longer strictly necessary.
when his fingers were cut up it was sometimes difficult to turn the pages.
mail order had saved him. if newsstands were not going to carry them, and traveling to specialty shops every week was impractical, he’d find other ways to acquire his comics. he’d seen the ads in the books and taken a chance. some of the companies even bought back issues, or would trade them for credit. he sampled new titles that were included with his orders as freebies.
after it was already too late he realized it was happening again. another new interest to consume his mind. (which had proven a quick snack). he tried to care but he found that he couldn’t. this was what he was doing, now.
between issues he would write his own stories. he gleaned from an interview in a house publication the format of a comic book plot and script. he wrote for himself to draw, sometimes skipping elaborate descriptions in his plots because of course he knew what he meant.
the drawing materials were carried in his briefcase. sometimes it was hard for him to find time to draw. and sl was completely full of shit. étienne had sent him a complete issue, fully penciled, over a year ago. in all that time he’d heard nothing from his friend.
sometimes it seemed like comic books weren’t worth the effort. procuring, reading, caring for, transporting, storing, organizing, writing, drawing, duplicating, and distributing—what, exactly? it was mostly trash, and étienne knew it.
he wondered what he would be interested in next.