I remember it like it was yesterday! I pulled up in front of my parents house. I was nervous, of course, who wouldn’t be? I knew, however, that I had to do this. I had to face them and quit living a lie. I knocked on the door and prepared to face the most difficult challenge of my life.
Mom sat in the kitchen, my father behind her.
“Mom…Dad. It’s time I told you something. I know that it will be hard for you to accept, but…well, it’s time that you accepted me for who I am.”
Mom looked concerned, but dad, well, nothing fazed dad- or so I thought.
“For years now…well, for years I’ve been…” I swallowed hard, “I’ve been collecting Comic Books!” It took a minute for the statement to register on the two of them. I watched my mothers face grow puzzled, then shocked. They hadn’t even suspected.
I had already been counseled at the Outreach Center for Closet Comic Collectors. I knew what to expect. First was denial. “No, no honey! You just like reading the funnies,” my mother said, “It’s ok! Everyone does that. I get quite a chuckle out of Fred Bassett myself!”
My father blamed himself. I knew that he would. “It’s my fault,” He said, his fist tensed into a ball. “I should never have taken him to see “Batman!”
“How?” My mother said, realization beginning to finally overcome her denial. “How did it happen?”
“Well, at first I thought that it was just a passing thing. You know, I thought I’d outgrow it. It started out innocently enough. A Superman here, a Spider-Man there. Occasionally I’d sneak a Heavy Metal in the house. Before I knew what was happening I was hooked. It was only a matter of time before I tried the hard stuff.”
“You mean…!” My mother couldn’t bring herself to say it.
“Graphic Novels.” I answered solemnly.
“Son, we’ll help you. There’re places you can go for help. Somewhere out of state. No one has to know.”
“But I want people to know, dad! This is who I am. I’ve finally accepted it. I don’t care who knows. This is who I am.” I knew that I had done all I could. They were taking it well enough. Certainly better than my girlfriend had. Oh well, it was getting expensive having a girlfriend anyway. With no one to lavish gifts and attention on, I would now have more money for the important things- like Mylar bags and acid free boards!
I pulled into the driveway of my modest house. As I walked into the living room, my dog Krypto greeted me with his usual slurp on the face. I spent the day dusting off my action figures and alphabetizing the “war comics” section of my library. As I plopped down on my favorite chair, a thought hit me. Without all of this furniture, I would have much more room for comic boxes. In fact, why bother with anything other than a place for loads and loads of comics. Yes, this was the day that it first hit me. I would start a comic store! After all, I had lots of old comics. (I had lots of old tennis shoes, too, but that is a different story!) All I needed was a little money, a place to do business and I would bring comics to the masses.
“And just what do you plan on using as collateral, young man?” The bank officer looked across his desk at me with a disdain I had never before seen. I looked around cautiously before pulling my life savings from my briefcase. “And just what is this?” He asked contemptuously.
“That,” I said excitedly, “Is the very first appearance of Frog-Man. The one where they accidentally colored him purple, as if anyone would take a purple Frog-Man seriously!”
“It’s my life savings.” I hastily added.
He slid the book back into its’ protective bag and leaned back in his chair.
“Let me be frank with you, if I may. This bank has certain… standards to 
maintain. We feel that it would not be our best interest to conduct business with people of…your type. I’m afraid that you will have to find money for this folly of yours elsewhere.”
I left the bank discouraged but not beaten. Once home, I discovered that word of my financial need had not gone unnoticed in my neighborhood. Anxious to rid the block of “that weird guy with all the funny books”, they had taken up a collection which more than covered my start up investment. Soon, Ground Zero was an empire in the local comic world. Investors from all over came to cash in their 90s comics with foil enhanced die cut covers! When the time came to attend my high school reunion, I could hold my head up high. After all, I told them, I dealt in miniature celebrity figurines (action figures), fine art reproductions (Alex Ross posters), diversionary simulation games (fantasy RPGs) and most importantly, Sequentialized Graphic Literature!
I may be proud, but the proper spin makes my mom feel so much better!
One thought on “The Secret Origin Of Ground Zero!”
A similar experience happened to me when I told my parents I was a comic collector.
It was during the winter of 1916 & my family had finally settled their dispute with the Walton Clan. I lost my uncles Edgar & Andrew the previous summer when both died in a night raid on the Walton’s distillery. The law wouldn’t intervene, because everyone in Jefferson County knew the Walton’s matriarch, Jahleel, was a coldhearted b*tch who would sooner skin a man alive then persecute her own kinfolk.
The moonshine didn’t matter even if that’s how many made their living…it what that or working the mines; my old Pa used to say “There are 3 things for a man to do in Virginia, coal mine, moonshine or male prostitution”…I never really figured out how a man whoring his body out for money really seemed a viable third option, but that was how people thought back then. Jahleel & her sons Elon & Zebulon didn’t make the best ‘shine, but it was the cheapest & at a time before the Great Depression when financially things were just a Little Sad, and people still counted pennies, everyone was willing to climb that crocked mountain & the Waltons knew success.
Then folks started disappearing. People going missing wasn’t such a big deal back then what with all the rampant alcoholism & male prostitution, but when winter hit most families didn’t have money anymore for warmth, shelter or food, because all their hard earned paychecks from working the mine or hooking went to the Walton Clan & pretty soon we turned to cannibalism. First is started with the old, feeble & infirmed & then we moved on to the young; the strong, fast & quick witted survived well into the new year, but eventually that stock dwindled down to only 7 surviving families until one day word passed around the valley that the Hamner Clan was selling “jerky” to the Waltons in exchange for shine. Forming a posse we confronted their patriarch Edgar, a disheveled little man of balding head and gaunt stature; he confessed that he had tried to pass off his Cousin Patricia’s smoke cured corpse to Jahleel for a few pints of moonshine, but what he witnessed on that mountain instead was enough to sober him for life. Edgar’s words bit harder than any cold winter’s rain & together the clans of Jefferson County ascended Waltons Mountain to do battle with pure evil.
We arrived just before twilight, with the Waltons busy making preparations for the night’s festivities. In the retreating light we saw all that Edgar had viewed in one horrible scene; blood soaked alter, logs built up for their midnight bonfire, a challis made from human bone & bound men lying in wait for the human zibhe to the Walton’s deity, Tzedek. The battle began when Zebulon spotted one of our lookouts & didn’t cease until dawn touched the highest tree line. In the end only Zebulon, his wife Esther & their young boy John survived with both Jahleel & Elon dead by buckshot or pitchfork; that day the Treaty of the Eight Clans was signed & “Zeb” was allowed to keep his mountain of gold in exchange that the Walton Clan never again attempt to manufacture or sell their moonshine.
I remember visiting the Walton Country Store in Nelson County; it was 1939 & Zeb’s oldest grandson “John Boy” was working his the soda counter…all of my hatred for that vile fraternity of devil worshipers came bubbling up, so to distract myself I looked away & that’s when my eyes fell upon the 27th issue of Detective Comics & from that day forward I became a comic book fan.