I am a recovering bibliophile, mainly because I refused to torture myself with desire for limited edition books I can't afford. Today I fell off the wagon, big time. Rather, I got kicked off by a man of his word.
You might remember me mentioning I wore my most offensive shirt the first night at WFC. I had a great time, met a presidential candidate's cousin, and also spoke with and entertained Bill.
Now, I had no idea who Bill was on meeting him; just a guy in a band t-shirt and bad attitude Kyle and I had a blast shooting the shit with. Partway through the evening Bill said that the more we entertained him, the more books we would get. Uncertain what that meant, we gave him some shit. He then told me to email him with my home address.
Subterranean Press was in the email addy...
Like I need that much encouragement to act the fool.
He emailed me the next day to inform me he'd sent the goods along. I gave him another ration of shit. Bill gave as he got.
When I got home, still no books on the doorstep. More shit ration email.
Today I was trying to get some writing done before the end of season meal with my Pink Pixies. Leaving at the last moment, I jumped on the motorbike. As I rolled by the front door, I saw two cardboard boxes. Cursing my lack of time, I sped off.
Needless to say, when I got home the boxes were torn open within two minutes. Inside, I found these treasures:
Now, there are some signed, limited editions in there. I haven't owned a limited edition anything, let alone ones as valuable as these.
As some would kill to have these books, I can only conclude that Bill wants someone dead. Be afraid, people. Bill's a man of his word, and he's got the currency to purchase willing bibliophile slaves.
Be very afraid.