Comic Book Media Mail Novels & Stories

“I don’t, no.” “And you don’t have time for the post, so the whole thing’s a bust really.” Cole must have sounded a bit woebegone because he said, “There isn’t an e-copy you could sign me up for?” with the same kind of embarrassed gentleness you might show a three-legged kitten if you weren’t all that keen on cats. “I don’t know. It just turns up in my pidgeon hole. It’s this glossy thing and the cover story is always Spring Well Graduate Now King of Everything Ever.”

They’re no more used to people standing up to me than I am. "The mail, Mr. Grimaldi," Luciana murmurs, placing a small stack of envelopes next to my elbow. "Thank you." I flip through the stack. Invitations. Bills. Bank statements. I wonder why so many companies cling to the past, insisting on still using ink and paper rather than automating everything and saving the planet. I stop at a plain white envelope. The handwriting is shaky and familiar. Mrs. Eve Grimaldi. The return address is a PO Box in Florida.

“Thanks. Gonna need brain-bleach to get rid of that image.” Cassie chuckles and takes a half-bow. “My pleasure.” I sigh, doing my best to repress images of Martha Wilkins (all three-hundred pounds of her) enjoying the latest Mills & Boon novel, say Midnight in the Desert, Midnight in the Summer, or, predictably, Midnight in the Harem. “All right, then. You’re free. Nothing coming until Monday morning. Got a shipment of comic books due. The York Book Emporium from Pennsylvania is sending us some of their overstock.”