Fuzzy and I visited a new-ish comic book store in Cedar Hill after our trip to Panera today. Panera, by the way, which is usually one of my favorite lunch stops, was disappointing. The chai wasn’t right – it wasn’t BAD, just not right – and it was cold, and everything felt off-kilter.
Anyway, the comic book store was all very bright and clean, with clearly labeled shelves, and a table and comfy chairs (for reading, or playing games, no doubt) was off in one section, and one of the X-Men movies was playing on a wide-screen TV. Fuzzy stopped to watch it and immediately got sucked into the kind of TV trance that only ever seems to affect men. You know, the one where no matter what is on, even if it’s something they would normally hate, they gaze, slack-jawed and unblinking until something comes between their eyes and the screen – generally a wife?
It was like that.
Oddly, I found myself remembering how there would always be groups of guys abandoned at those home theater stores in malls when I was a kid, two or three on each couch, watching whatever happened to be on while their wives went shopping. It was sort of like the adult male equivalent of drop-in day care, and oh, so much better than the two tiny man-chairs outside the fitting rooms in women’s clothing stores.
Anyway, I had time to circulate through the store twice, and almost bought a Spike doll, but didn’t, and Fuzzy was still watching the movie. Then, when I told him I was ready to go, he said, “But I’m not done looking.”