>UH EXCUSE ME SIR SIR SIR SAAARRR YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO GRAB ALL THOSE COMICS FOR FREE COMIC BOOK DAY >SAR >SIR >SIR >NO SIR THAT ISN'T HOW IT WORKS SIR THAT ISN'T-- BECAUSE THERE'S JUST A LIMIT OK YOU JUST CAN'T SIR SIR SIR SIR STOP IT STOP I'M CALLING THE POLICE SIR I'M CALLING THE HECKING POLICE!!!
You'll never be satisfied with a mortal woman because the Elf Wenches are so beautiful, you'll spend the rest of your life searching for that same beauty again.
I wrote a shitpost about this a while back. It might be outdated now.
>A small group of disheveled looking nerds look contemptuously at one another and anyone who enters. They shout obscenities to everyone and no one in particular. Longing for human connection but too scared and prideful to be sincere, they circle back to the same topics and the same responses like a broken record. "EAST VERSUS WEST," one shouts. "DOBSON!" echoes from another corner. "ALAN MOORE!" another cries out, in smug satisfaction of knowing what to say next. If NPCs were real, this small hovel would be full of them.
>A few try to do better but are betrayed by their inexperience and short temper. "SC-SCIFI THREAD!" someone shouts, blindingly, dazzlingly, for a moment before being ignored and retreating to a dark corner to lick his wounded pride. He will try again tomorrow. He will fail again tomorrow.
>A draft blows through the cracks, whistling through the rotting shelves of floppies and superhero memorabilia. A profound sense of dread fills the air like a heavy miasma. Something is wrong but no one is here to fix it. Everyone could leave but they do not know where else to go. Fearful of uncertainty, everyone huddles together to repeat the same conversations and the same insults. It may be sickening but at least it's familiar.
Do you have anymore ISOMs left?
Um excuse me do you have the latest wave of fan channel exclusive TVC figures?
>UH EXCUSE ME SIR SIR SIR SAAARRR YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO GRAB ALL THOSE COMICS FOR FREE COMIC BOOK DAY
>SAR
>SIR
>SIR
>NO SIR THAT ISN'T HOW IT WORKS SIR THAT ISN'T-- BECAUSE THERE'S JUST A LIMIT OK YOU JUST CAN'T SIR SIR SIR SIR STOP IT STOP I'M CALLING THE POLICE SIR I'M CALLING THE HECKING POLICE!!!
>You stole comic books on Free Comic Book Day?
Sponge Bob did it better 20 years ago
Where's the manga section?
Can I have a job? I've done retail. I also shower and won't stare at women or kids.
Cinemaphile if it was epic
You'll never be satisfied with a mortal woman because the Elf Wenches are so beautiful, you'll spend the rest of your life searching for that same beauty again.
>walks in
>walks past all the floppies
>buy an omnibus
>leaves
>Mommy, why is that homeless man in a corner talking about someone named ''Ferris'' and a ''funky farm'' to nobody?
>It's been 2 months. Do you have the rent?
Comics? I can't read! Where are the cartoons?
Frick it theres a theater in the back
They're screening nothing but modern lesbian crap, we wanna watch some old-school stuff.
burn it down
no one goes to these places anymore
>
I like your hair
Stop trying to sell me fricking Funko pops
>Yeah you got any underpaid women workers back there willing to dress up in cheap cosplay I can have sex with for a few bucks?
I wrote a shitpost about this a while back. It might be outdated now.
>A small group of disheveled looking nerds look contemptuously at one another and anyone who enters. They shout obscenities to everyone and no one in particular. Longing for human connection but too scared and prideful to be sincere, they circle back to the same topics and the same responses like a broken record. "EAST VERSUS WEST," one shouts. "DOBSON!" echoes from another corner. "ALAN MOORE!" another cries out, in smug satisfaction of knowing what to say next. If NPCs were real, this small hovel would be full of them.
>A few try to do better but are betrayed by their inexperience and short temper. "SC-SCIFI THREAD!" someone shouts, blindingly, dazzlingly, for a moment before being ignored and retreating to a dark corner to lick his wounded pride. He will try again tomorrow. He will fail again tomorrow.
>A draft blows through the cracks, whistling through the rotting shelves of floppies and superhero memorabilia. A profound sense of dread fills the air like a heavy miasma. Something is wrong but no one is here to fix it. Everyone could leave but they do not know where else to go. Fearful of uncertainty, everyone huddles together to repeat the same conversations and the same insults. It may be sickening but at least it's familiar.
>WHAT'S THIS?
>A COMIC BOOK ESTABLISHMENT WITH LITTLE TRACTION?
>MY BRIEFCASE FULL OF BEES WILL PUT A STOP TO THIS
>look man, I know it's not popular or anything anymore, but I thought I'd at least try you know? The Walking dead. Do you have anything of it?
>*Brrring brrring*
>*Picks up phone*
"Thank you for calling Cinemaphilemics and cartoons, this is Anon, how can I help you?"
>Put the Spider-Man #1 in the bag
Here, you can have the entire run, no one buys them anyway.
>everything was expensive and the entire place smelled like weed