Last time I told you that I'd tell you why I'm promoting my friend's upcoming ArchEnemies softcover (ships January 24th!), even though I can eat six donuts in one minute.
(That sentence makes substantially more sense if you read the blog entry in question.)
So here we go:
About three months ago, I was visited by four men in suits. These were big, serious men with sunglasses and black ties and grim expressions. I found them waiting for me in my living room when I got home from work. Apparently my roommate, Princess A, had let them in.
They were lawyers.
As it turns out, they work for Dark Horse Comics, which is the company that publishes ArchEnemies. They work in something called the "Right Acquisitions Department." Basically, it's their job to track down Hellboy or the Goon or Conan the Barbarian or whoever and get the permissions necessary to turn their lives into comic books.
All of which has zero to do with me, but they were big, scary guys with - if I understand correctly - a time machine, so I figured I should hear them out.
Apparently, Dark Horse wanted to excerpt this blog as part of their ArchEnemies trade. Why? I'm not really clear. But these guys were very, very, very, very serious about it.
Of course, they were also very, very, very, very serious when I asked them if they wanted anything to drink. And when I told them that all I had was Orangina. And when I told them that the only clean cups I had were my vintage Muppets Take Manhattan slurpee cups. And when I offered them pink bendy straws.
(They politely refused the bendy straws.)
Anyway, they offered me "an amount," and I told them that I would have to consult with "my people." I don't have people per se, but it felt like the right thing to say at the time. They left me their card and told me that they'd "call around again."
Then they - and I swear I am not making this up - exited the apartment through the window to a rope ladder to a whisper-silent helicopter hovering over our roof.
Later that night, my neighbor Luke (who has a wormhole for a head) came over to watch Veronica Mars with Princess A and me. Just between you and me: I think he has a little bit of a crush on the princess.
It's hard to be sure, because the whole "he doesn't have a head, he has a hole in space and time" thing makes it hard to read him. But he's always doing nice things for her like getting things for her off tall shelves and standing real still so she can stare through him and see the back of her head.
Anyway, right as the show's ending, I get a knock on the door, and who's there but an army of grubby, one-eyed mole persons, all hunched over and crowded in and squeezed into these tight-fitting, second-hand suits.
And they pushed past me, and they barged into my apartment, and they snarled at me as they explained that - I kid ye not - they also wanted to purchase the rights to my blog.
And I'm scared, and I'm confused, and I'm trying like mad to get my head around the situation. And the only words I can get out of my mouth are...
"I'm sorry. We're just out of Orangina."
More to come.
(That sentence makes substantially more sense if you read the blog entry in question.)
So here we go:
About three months ago, I was visited by four men in suits. These were big, serious men with sunglasses and black ties and grim expressions. I found them waiting for me in my living room when I got home from work. Apparently my roommate, Princess A, had let them in.
They were lawyers.
As it turns out, they work for Dark Horse Comics, which is the company that publishes ArchEnemies. They work in something called the "Right Acquisitions Department." Basically, it's their job to track down Hellboy or the Goon or Conan the Barbarian or whoever and get the permissions necessary to turn their lives into comic books.
All of which has zero to do with me, but they were big, scary guys with - if I understand correctly - a time machine, so I figured I should hear them out.
Apparently, Dark Horse wanted to excerpt this blog as part of their ArchEnemies trade. Why? I'm not really clear. But these guys were very, very, very, very serious about it.
Of course, they were also very, very, very, very serious when I asked them if they wanted anything to drink. And when I told them that all I had was Orangina. And when I told them that the only clean cups I had were my vintage Muppets Take Manhattan slurpee cups. And when I offered them pink bendy straws.
(They politely refused the bendy straws.)
Anyway, they offered me "an amount," and I told them that I would have to consult with "my people." I don't have people per se, but it felt like the right thing to say at the time. They left me their card and told me that they'd "call around again."
Then they - and I swear I am not making this up - exited the apartment through the window to a rope ladder to a whisper-silent helicopter hovering over our roof.
Later that night, my neighbor Luke (who has a wormhole for a head) came over to watch Veronica Mars with Princess A and me. Just between you and me: I think he has a little bit of a crush on the princess.
It's hard to be sure, because the whole "he doesn't have a head, he has a hole in space and time" thing makes it hard to read him. But he's always doing nice things for her like getting things for her off tall shelves and standing real still so she can stare through him and see the back of her head.
Anyway, right as the show's ending, I get a knock on the door, and who's there but an army of grubby, one-eyed mole persons, all hunched over and crowded in and squeezed into these tight-fitting, second-hand suits.
And they pushed past me, and they barged into my apartment, and they snarled at me as they explained that - I kid ye not - they also wanted to purchase the rights to my blog.
And I'm scared, and I'm confused, and I'm trying like mad to get my head around the situation. And the only words I can get out of my mouth are...
"I'm sorry. We're just out of Orangina."
More to come.
Did any of these besuited, besunglassed men happen to bear a striking resemblance to Hugo Weaving?