The Cliques: Dragonball Deez

Alright, I've gotten back into the habit of posting these things on a semi-regular basis, and I see I've gotten more subscribers but less commenters, or at least less commenters that I haven't met in real life. Sigh. I really liked my last post, too.

Anyway, there was a small group of guys that played Dragonball Z. Dragonball Z was the game that guys should have been embarrassed about playing in middle/high school, versus the Yu-Gi-Oh, the game that you should be embarrassed about playing in elementary school and Magic: The Gathering, the game you should be embarrassed about playing as an adult.

There was a somewhat normal looking, quiet guy I'll call Vic, as in victim, more on that later.

There was a young African-American gentleman who would come in with his little, rambunctious brother I'll call Ten Cent, more on that later.

There was a redneck teen who was pretty good-humored that had such a heavy accent he once called "Mello-Yello" "Meller-Yeller". I never got tired of getting a kick out of that.

There was also a couple of brothers that looked like Jonathan Taylor Thomases.

These guys were pretty okay, they were old enough to stay out of my hair for the most part. That was until the apparently ambitious young hood Ten Cent put the smack down on Vic right there in the store.

I guess Ten Cent was sore that Vic wouldn't give him a ride or something, and one Saturday when I was leaning down to put something away, I heard what sounded like fabric rustling and rose to see Ten Cent punching away on Vic who was pretty much just sitting in a chair and taking it. After awaking from my stupor, I grabbed the phone and came out to tell Ten Cent to knock it off and get the Hell out or something. I should have been suspicious as Ten Cent came in earlier with a huge guy, presumably as back-up. They got out of Dodge and Vic called the cops who got a statement from me.

One thing that's weird is that Ten Cent was a normal guy. Sure, I nicknamed him in a demeaning fashion against a famous gangsta rapper as he was an aspiring young thug, I suppose, but he was normal. He didn't fit into any un-PC stereotypes involving cornrows, wifebeaters, or ink. Just a middle class guy.

What you have to worry about in this world is not the smart criminals, or criminally-inclined, but the dumb ones. "Duhhhh... let me settle my dispute violently, in public, and at an age where I could possibly be tried as an adult. With lots of witnesses against a guy who knows my name, address, and phone number."

Vic got a restraining order against Ten Cent, which included the shop. He never came in again, though, and oddly enough most of the group sided with Ten Cent, who also only came in once to see if he could still come in, which the owner reluctantly agreed. By that time though he was probably discovering pot and internet porn. So good riddance.

Oddly enough, I'm kinda more angry about it now than when it happened. When it happened, I just couldn't believe it was happening. Now, I realize that it was a violent, meaningless act (which I hate), and either an indirect or direct disrespect towards myself. What did he think I was going to do, just stand there and let him mete out suburban street justice? Now when I think back to it (not often) I wonder what he would have done if I had just come up from behind and nailed him with a steel chair, WWE-style. Even if he had his huge, future inmate #311420 assault me, I'd be throwing out lawsuits like nobody's business, and if that didn't pan out, hell, my friends are more numerous, older and with access to better weaponry than chairs.

I just hate violence and crime, is what I'm trying to say. Ironic considering I've got a huge interest in the mob. But at least that's largely between themselves, and not running up to random people and aiming a shotgun in their face. Must be all those accumulated super-hero stories infecting me with their morality.

Damn anime. Teaching kids to solve their problems through screaming, punching and blasts of force from their palms. Shit.

The Cliques: The Hero-Clix Gang

So I thought I'd start another series to talk about the groups of people that would congregate in our fair store. It'll pad out the narrative as well as give people the opportunity to compare and see if any similarities lie within their own groups.

Before I get to it, I will say I'm surprised that I have 7 followers, but a little dismayed to find people so adverse to commenting. I know it's easier to read-n-run, but when you comment you really let me know there's someone else out there. Plus, it'll give you guys a chance to connect and maybe start discussions amongst yourselves.

Which brings me to a new point. As things wind down (as they eventually will. I have the ending posts pretty mapped out so in my mind we're kinda closer to the end than to the beginning) I'm thinking of starting a new blog/forum based around the industry called something like "Comics Suck". It'll basically be a big bitchfest. Now, I don't think comics suck. I actually told a smoking fox French study partner that I was on the upper floor of Barnes & Noble wrapping up "Civil War". How can I be such a mack? Practice. Plus, I went to Urban Outfitters recently and saw some cool little Mighty Marvel Mugs. So I still like the culture of comics, especially the part about how if you look somewhat normal (ie under 450 lbs, somewhat washed and fashionable) that no one blinks an eye when you let your nerd out. Thank you, "The OC"! But I do think there's a ton of crappy comic stores, customers, and Diamond is still out there making lives miserable so there's room for a spin-off. I swear I'll never know how Diamond built an empire on being a bloated, inefficient middle-man.

Back to the point: every Friday night our shop would host Hero-Clix tournaments. Hero-Clix is a collectible miniatures game that came out in 2002. It's tiny little plastic figures of comic characters with stats on the dial and powers to modify what they can do and you battle it out. And even though I disparaged it earlier on my customer complaint on the Mole-Man... I gotta say, it's kinda fun. Me and my buddy (the cokehead) got into it when it first came out, and even stayed at the store until the wee early hours of the morning playing it. And this was the summer when we hung out with the college girls in their off-campus apartment watching them get drunk on Arbor Mist and going to free radio concerts. Ahhhh, the summer of '02. Why did you ever have to end?

Even back-er to the point: A series of regulars would go to these games. And despite being held on Friday nights, these were generally the most normal gamers of the bunch. I geniunely liked a lot of these people. Now the bad apples were superbad, but most of them were cool, like outside of comic shop cool, even!

There was a guy I'll call D-Rock ('cause someone else did) who was built kind of like a pro wrestler. He was tall, blond and athletic. But most appealing of all was his natural sense of ease and good-naturedness. He just exuded a confidence rarely seen in our neurotic little world. He made frequent jokes, chewed tobacco and married an Asian nurse.

His sidekick and the guy that ran the tournaments I'll call D-Rock Jr, because he was shorter, skinnier and still blond. The big boy from New York didn't really like him because he thought he was smug and caustic. I dunno, I got along fine with him.

There was another guy I'll call McEnroe because he once grew out his curly brown locks into a McEnroe-like 'fro. He was in his late 20s and divorced, and talked about his ex-wife a lot, which was weird. He was a decent looking guy. He also seemed baked out of his mind every minute of every day. He later moved and I have no idea what happened to him. Never got confirmation that he smoked more weed than Seth Rogen, either.

A guy that recently emailed me is someone I'll call Shogun. He was a comic customer first, and would bring his young son in when he picked up books. Now normally, I can't stand kids. Oh I can be civil, but I recognize that at least right now they're not for me. However, this little guy was pretty cute, I admit. He would sing "Ain't No Sunshine" and would run around the store. All of this is making me seem about as normal and manly as Pee-Wee Herman, but trust me. The kid was awesome. If you didn't laugh at him, a part of your soul undoubtedly has died.

I've mentioned Sack Ofshitskin (I ironically encouraged him into playing rather than just collecting) and Mole-Man. There was another troublemaker I'll call Dickhead. Dickhead was disliked by everybody, not really for any big reason, just little, small, subtle ones. He just carried himself in a very dickhead manner. He was in his early 30s, paunchy, and had a perfectly cute fiancee that no one could understand the attraction was. D-Rock joked that he should sleep with her just to spite Dickhead. He should've.

Ponytail had a life that was either the greatest or the worst. I had actually met him back when the Star Wars CCG was popular almost 10 years ago. He had a cute, goth-ish girlfriend who went to a local college. He had a ponytail and worked at Michael's, the craft store. Sarcastro would kind of give him a hard time, but Ponytail seemed to take it well. Before I knew it, he disappeared and my apathy remained. He returned when Hero-Clix took off and came back with a stunning blond girl. And when I say she was an 8, I mean an 8 in the real world. Not an 8 in the comic world, which would be a 4 in the real world. She was thin with a nice body, blond, and a pretty face. And for some reason she was devoted to Ponytail. The guy that wrote an 8-part movie epic involving Atlantis and evoking "Tango & Cash". The guy that ran out to puke on the sidewalk on several occasions. She would fight with him and sit next to him on Friday nights as he played miniature games. Ponytail lived at home. Past 30. I have no indication to believe he might have moved out. He apparently has an 11-inch penis that dispenses Arbor Mist and new episodes of "Grey's Anatomy".

There were some odds and ends. There was one guy with a super-southern accent but actually said some clever things, so it taught me never to judge someone by their cover. No it didn't. The last guy was the first guy to run the tournaments. I shall call him Unibrow Johnson, and I shall get to him later. He was the guy that "bought" the store.

So there they were. These brave champions of Friday night, that would battle until 10 at night. These men with cute girlfriends and normal social lives. Some things are just a mystery, man. Some things are just a mystery.

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