Zed's dead, baby. Zed's dead.

[thehefner]

So just now in the comic shop, a middle-aged woman came in looking for the first volume of Neil Gaiman's SANDMAN. I make the quick suggestion of the super-deluxe edition hardcover, but she says, "That's all right, it's just for my son."

I pause and say, "Hey, uh, how old is your son?"

"He's nine," she says.

"Ohh, no, sorry, this isn't right for him..."

She stops me, saying, "It's fine, it's fine."

"I mean, this is a mature readers title. Nudity, violence, bad language..."

"That's just fine for him. He's a big PULP FICTION fan."

For a second I think she literally means pulp fiction type stories. "You're serious?"

"Yeah! He loves it, knows it all by heart."

"And he's nine?"

"Even when he was six, he could recite the entire opening sequence. He'd jump up on the couch and do the whole thing."

"Well. Um. That'll be $20.95."

I don't know whether to be utterly horrified or amused. I wish I could see what this kid's gonna be like in twenty, thirty years so I could make a call on it either way.

Then again, I went to see stuff like that with my Mom and brother all the time growing up, and I turned out just fine! (*shifty eyes*) Still, it's the "jumping on the sofa" reenactments that really strike me.