Last week, while perusing through the SALE basket of children's books at Pendragon's New & Used Literature, searching for books with more words and less pictures for my smartypants five-year-old niece, Bugz, who is starting kindergarten at a private school in the fall, I came across what I believe to be the rarest and most priceless "book" I've ever known. And when I saw the green "Reduced to Sell" sticker with the unbelievable price of $1.99, I knew someone at Pendragon Books had made a terrible mistake, and that I must purchase the item in cash to remain an untraceable, anonymous customer, and run home immediately.
I randomly picked up other books for purchase in an effort to divert attention away from the real gem in the stack. Gore Vidal's "Messiah". "A Woman's Guide to Finding Her Inner French Girl," by Debra Olliver. "The Journals of Sylvia Plath." (Why not? My recent ex thinks I'm clinically depressed so I might as well read the journals of one of the most tragically famous and get some pointers - and by the way, having someone break up with you right after a painful surgery followed by getting fired from your job actually is depressing - ironic).
I cautiously made my way towards the cashier, eyeballing the other patrons with a wave of paranoia creeping up on me. "They know," I thought. They know I've found the holy grail. The golden ticket. The winning Monopoly piece freshly pulled from my extra-large McDonald's fries. I nervously placed my stack of books on the counter, like a man renting, "You've Got Mail" and "Rainman" to hide his intended objective, "Penis of the Caribbean."
"Hey! Melly," said Carolyn, in her unusually loud, enthusiastic greeting. I mean, I'm all for enthusiastic greetings and happiness in a coffee shop or even at a funeral. But a bookstore? Have some respect, lady! People are trying to read!
"Hey, " I replied quietly, forgetting that anonymity would be out of the question for a book nerd like me, who spent hours upon hours each week in Pendragon searching for rare finds like the good-as-new, first edition paperback of William Burroughs' "Naked Lunch" the amount penciled in at only $4, clearly overlooked and incorrectly priced by one with no knowledge of literature or value of particular authors. Carolyn scanned my books while making small talk with me. Nice to see you, too. I'm fine, thanks for asking. "Oh my GOD! You found this! Sam! Come over here. Look what Melly is buying!"
Sam, another cashier familiar with my nerdness, but with a much lower voice, came to the counter and said, "Oh, I wondered who would buy that when I priced it. Isn't that the most amazing thing." I just gave her a smile, willing her with all my non-psychic power to walk away. Surprisingly, she did just that. I knew at that moment that I had just gotten the deal of the century by the skin of my teeth and I vowed that I would look up the phrase "by the skin of my teeth," on the Internet as soon as I got home because I've never understood what the hell that phrase even meant.
Thus, it is with great pleasure I share with you now a photographic montage of the unbelievable work of Mr. Tom Tierney, in my newly acquired first edition copy of "John Wayne: Paper Dolls."
