Now that? WHO: Grog Strongjaw WHAT: Narrative: Grog has an encounter that reminds him why he is a comic book guy. WHEN: A few weeks ago. WHERE: A Hotel in Northern California, then a store WARNINGS: None STATUS: Closed and Complete
Grog smiled as he finished his last signature, and thanked his fan, shaking the hand of the tall man who dwarfed him, dressed as one of Grog’s characters. He waved at the fans who were milling around other autographers and headed toward the door out to the back, and to his car. He loved interacting with fans, he did, but after four panels, and a two-hour autograph session, his voice was breaking and his hands were cramping. He needed some down time, and this little convention was now on the last day, sliding toward done, this evening, so he was free to go.
His things were packed and in his limo, and as he stepped out of the main hall and its noise, he pulled out his phone with a cramping hand and dialed the driver. “Hey, Lenny. Yeah, finally. Heading out now, can you meet me in the usual spot in 30? Thanks, man.”
Putting his phone away, he headed for the market next door to the hotel, in order to pick up a few things before heading home. The front desk had his number and his bags already waiting for the limo driver and would let him know when the man got there. He smiled as he stepped into the market and began to wander with a basket, being on his feet not seeming so bad after hours on end of sitting and signing things. He rubbed his wrist and hand as he moved, grabbing this or that thing from the shelves.
Man, he was tired!
As he walked, he thought about the good crowds this last weekend, and he remembered when he had been a kid meeting his own comic book inspirations. That had been the best.
As he checked out some snacks, he saw something move out of the corner of his eye and glanced that way, to see a little kid, staring at him, mouth open, one hand trailing down and holding… oh. One of Grog’s comics. Grog smiled and waved and the kid yelped, then ran around the corner.
A moment later, and Grog facepalming, brought a sighing and embarrassed adult woman, who, after peering at him worriedly, approached. “Excuse me, Mister Strongjaw?” Grog turned to her with a polite smile, and red cheeks of his own, which seemed to reassure her.
“Yes, miss?”
“Ah, you are the Grog Strongjaw who writes and draws the Super-GALs comic?”
Grog winced but nodded. “The Guardians of Law series, yes, ma’am.” He really hated the slang name his comic had gotten, even if it was catchier than Guardians of Law. He was not the creator of it, nor even one of the first ten people who had written or drawn on the comic about an all-woman superhero team, but he had held the position the longest, and apparently, his work was popular. He just wished people would stop calling it that.
“How can I help you?”
“My child is a huge fan and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind signing this?” Grog, to his credit, never even stopped to think, but held out his hand as he pulled out his silver pen from his pocket. One more signature.
He signed, with a flourish, choosing a page where he could do so without obscuring too much art or story, then handed it over. “Here you go, ma’am. You both have a nice day.”
The woman smiled as she took it back, then nodded. “You too. Thank you.”
And she was off, collecting her son who had crept back around the corner and was staring again. Grog waved and the boy jumped, took the comic from his mom, stared at it, then looked at Grog, and ran up, hugged him briefly, at which point Grog realized he had been mistaken. It was not a boy, but a girl!
She spoke softly. “Thank you, sir, for writing this. I love it. Guardia is my favorite. I want to be her when I grow up.” And then she ran off.
Grog smiled as he watched her go, then sighed. Now that? That was why he was in comics. That made the whole day worthwhile. He smiled as he turned toward the rest of the store and fished out his phone, punching a button on his speed-dial. “Marty? Yeah, it’s Grog.” He chuckled. “Yeah, it went well, all done now. But… can you check into the local charities, see if I can do any work this next week? You know the type.”
He waited while Marty spoke. “Yeah, still volunteering, man, and always will be. They are, after all, why I’m doing this…”
And he smiled, talking on and moving through the store...