Big Times, SD Signings, and The Latino Strikes Back

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Chris Piers has a new Ready for the Big Time up, all about submissions. Go check it out.

Also, I’ve been spending some time setting up the signing schedule for San Diego Comic-Con; we’re going to have a good crew. Phil Hester, Stuart Moore, Tom Mandrake, Ryan Ottley and about 12 more people so far. Hoarse & Buggy booth is where it’s at. We’ll be at booth 1833, be sure to stop by.

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Nico from Rico got his jacket stolen at a party one day. It was a nice, leather jacket and judging by how often he wore it and talked about, it was most likely his prized possession.

He came home one night from a party and all he could talk about was how much he hated white people because he went to some party with nothing but white people and one of them stole his jacket. He didn’t understand why; white people have money, why do they need to steal his jacket? From that night on, Nico had a personal vendetta against white people – one that he harbored within him until a week later.

We were all going to a party. Nico was his normal self, laughing and cheerful, ready for a good night of heavy drinking and some dope smoking. Nico still hasn’t replaced his jacket so he’s just wearing a thick sweater. We hop on the T to go out to Allston, pushed our way into the car and made our way out to some dude’s house.

We get to the party – nothing out of the ordinary. Keg stands, funnels and Jell-O shots off of a ladies stomach, all standard college party kind of stuff. Nico was having a good old time, trying to make out with the ladies, little dancing, a little joke telling and a lot of drinking.

And then he disappeared. It’s the kind of thing where I saw him leaning against the wall, turn to get a cigarette, turn back and Nico’s gone. Ninja style.

I think nothing of it and go back to the party, joining up with the rest of our friends. The party progresses as it normally would.

Until Nico comes slinking through the shadows, with a jacket on, holding a second jacket in his arms. He puts the jacket in my arms and says, “Take this. I’m gonna steal these white mother fucker’s jackets.”

I think about it for a second and realize I at least need to get my jacket out of the coat room so I give the white mother fucker’s jacket to Nico and make my way to the coat room, put my coat on and go back to Nico, slip the white mother fucker’s jacket under mine.

Nico and I sneak out, two stolen jackets, a rage in his eyes but a sense of justice hanging about him.

He settles down as we get closer to the dorm, his need for vengeance satisfied and no longer requiring a new jacket. I didn’t keep the one I stole; it was some ugly J. Crew piece of crap. I donated it to the Salvation Army drop-box on the way home.

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