The man that I bought it from couldn't tell me anything about the sketch, like what it was for. When I asked him where he got it from, he was vague and elusive. But generally he seemed reputable. Nothing seemed shady, and boy he had some nice finished art, priced at levels I couldn't afford. He said he had some good sources for other material, if I was interested, so I left my phone number with him.
Many of my memories from those days are pretty hazy, as one boring day blurred and blended into another. But once something out of the ordinary happened, my brain synapses seemed to kick into high gear, absorbing the information.
Maybe a month later my phone rang pretty late at night. A quiet raspy voice asked for me. When I said, that's me, the voice said, "This is Wallace Wood," and there was a pause, as it sounded like a long drag from a cigarette, "you can call me Woody."
Great writing. I feel like you were posting lines from a comic book novella.
I think a whole tale of " Woody" as he drags from an old Chesterfield could be created here.
Oh, c'mon!! Don't leave us hanging... what happened next with Woody? Was it really him?
Did you read the next few posts after this one?
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