So I'm down at my local comic shop yesterday picking up my Wednesday fix, and decide to peruse some of the other stuff lying around, insofar as the shop owner is having some sort of fairly severe meltdown over invoicing behind the counter, and I don't really feel like interrupting the minor stroke he's having.
Looking into one of the display cases in a less-trafficked area of the store, I notice a nondescript black book with an equally nondescript black slipcase next to it. There's a $50.00 price tag on it. It's covered in about a bazillion years worth of dust. It's entirely possible that God put it there when he opened the store at the beginning of time, and it's been resting peacefully, unnoticed, ever since.
My heart flutters a little. I know what this thing is, and I've wanted it for well over a decade. Who knows how long it's been there - it is entirely possible that I have walked past this item at least once a week since I first started going to the store and have never noticed it before.
Yesterday, I scored a copy of the 1987 Graphitti Designs edition of WATCHMEN, a book I have lusted after since first learning of its existence. I could never rationalize the $200-$300 a copy goes for at auction, and yesterday I purchased it for fifty goddamn bucks, after having blithely walked past the goddamn thing every goddamn week since the late goddamn nineties.
Hooray.