Flying Saucer Girls (News from the Unincorporated Side of Town Book 1)
Book Details
Author(s)Mel Odious
ISBN / ASINB005BSYZKC
ISBN-13978B005BSYZK7
Sales Rank1,834,885
MarketplaceUnited States 🇺🇸
Description
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In college I frequented a used book shop off-campus to escape the academic grind on the cheap. Hipster coffee-shop/book stores hadn't been invented yet, so instead of French Roast and indie tunes this place enticed customers with moldy must and silence.
The owner provided the soundless soundtrack and rarely looked at his customers even when ringing them up. In addition to used books he had a rack of used greeting cards, so you might be able to pick up a cheap hand-annotated copy of "Moby Dick" or a "Happy Birthday" card pre-signed, "With Love, Aunt Sally." If there was anything creepy about buying a "used" greeting card, the steady influx of new-old stock from college students eager for any pennies they could get seemed to validate the sideline.
Social artifice seemed unwelcome in this warehouse of purposeful plots, if only judged by the rack of recycled greeting cards that mocked the sincerity of Hallmark wishes and the present-in-form-only owner ("Harvey" -- he wore a name tag, perhaps as a tease), who clearly preferred to live in whatever book he was reading at the cash register instead of pretending he cared how any of his customers were at the moment or whether they were going to have a nice day.
This fellow at the bookstore looked up from his book and spoke to me exactly once in the several years I visited his shop.
"You seem to gravitate toward stories about outer space," he deadpanned.
This is my homage to all the time-traveling, gender-bending, perception-turned-inside-out outer space tales I bought in that bookstore, and to its proprietor, who is long gone at this place in time only. Thanks for making time and space travel so affordable, Harvey, and have a nice day.
(With Love, Aunt Sally).
-- M.O.
http://www.amazon.com/gp/feature.html?docId=1000493771
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In college I frequented a used book shop off-campus to escape the academic grind on the cheap. Hipster coffee-shop/book stores hadn't been invented yet, so instead of French Roast and indie tunes this place enticed customers with moldy must and silence.
The owner provided the soundless soundtrack and rarely looked at his customers even when ringing them up. In addition to used books he had a rack of used greeting cards, so you might be able to pick up a cheap hand-annotated copy of "Moby Dick" or a "Happy Birthday" card pre-signed, "With Love, Aunt Sally." If there was anything creepy about buying a "used" greeting card, the steady influx of new-old stock from college students eager for any pennies they could get seemed to validate the sideline.
Social artifice seemed unwelcome in this warehouse of purposeful plots, if only judged by the rack of recycled greeting cards that mocked the sincerity of Hallmark wishes and the present-in-form-only owner ("Harvey" -- he wore a name tag, perhaps as a tease), who clearly preferred to live in whatever book he was reading at the cash register instead of pretending he cared how any of his customers were at the moment or whether they were going to have a nice day.
This fellow at the bookstore looked up from his book and spoke to me exactly once in the several years I visited his shop.
"You seem to gravitate toward stories about outer space," he deadpanned.
This is my homage to all the time-traveling, gender-bending, perception-turned-inside-out outer space tales I bought in that bookstore, and to its proprietor, who is long gone at this place in time only. Thanks for making time and space travel so affordable, Harvey, and have a nice day.
(With Love, Aunt Sally).
-- M.O.
