Thursday, January 29, 2009

Decrepit Bookshop

I was twelvish when I had to have some dentistry work done.  On a Saturday morning I had to take the city bus, alone, downtown to an ancient medical building, with spooky old hallways and reeking of horrible medical odors—by myself, mind you, submitting myself to a creaky, greasy old geezer putting his huge hands in my mouth and inflicting great jabbing pain. Well needless to say, as I left the office, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.





This Jungle Comics was a beauty, but I sold it a couple of years ago for a lot more than 50 cents.

I sort of liked Krypto back then. I've already told you what I dork I was (am).

This Adventure was so beat up it should have been an 8 center, but I loved these panel covers.

And this Detective was in decent shape, but had that awful 8 cent mark on it, making it worth 8 cents, but actually I sold it too, years later, for quite a bit more.

Panel covers were cool, by my standard, and this was a book-length Wayne Boring story. It got more beat up in my possession.

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