The bond between a man and his local comic book store is mysterious and awkward. The ritual of return for the sequential art fix is ripe with potential. You never know who might join the conversation that flows from pychotropic drug references to favorite scenes from the Incredibles. Where else can you hear a sassy young woman proclaim, “Ah, that disctict fanboy musk that only a comic book store could have.” Not to mention all the great comix I get each time! So this one goes out to all my personal comic book guys over the years…Ryan and Clint, and Brendan and co at Fat Jacks.