Bill's Got Credit With Me...

I just got two new tomes in the mail from Subterranean Press' Bill Schafer.

Tales of Dark Fantasy 2, which he edited. He also signed my copy. I am beside myself, like a fanboi. Like beans beside rice. Like beer to pretzels.

He also sent along John Scalzi's Fuzzy Nation. It will be the first time I read any of John's full length work. I look forward to it a great deal. I am an avid reader of his blog, after all.

I have said before that Bill seems ready to purchase the death of someone, given that he provides such quality goodness to humble readers. He has much credit with this bibliophile.

Until he requests that death, don't bother me, I'll be reading.

And yes, Bill, most of us cops do like to do what you indicated above your signature. After all, we're all mammals:

Bill, A Man of His Word, Must Want Someone Dead

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...

Oh!  Snap!

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.