The Perfect Ending to a Not-So-Perfect Week

As I said before, this week hasn't been the world's greatest for me. To be totally honest, it has stunk out freaking loud.

But things are looking up, at last.

Today, Prime and I had a "day out", so to speak--it's rare that my days off (whenever scheduling feels like it) coincide with his (standard Saturday/Sunday). We hit our local comic shop and Prime picked up a nice stack of comics. (Just read Spotlight: Cliffjumper; good story, but a huge hankie warning on that one!) Afterwards, we headed over to my old store to hunt for these little guys. The old hellhole was a bust, so we headed to the nearby Target (a place at which I've also worked). They had them, but only the single packs, no six-pack boxes.

Prime grabbed a huge stack of single packs (he would've wiped out the display, but restrained himself), then we headed over to Toys. Prime spotted some blisterpacked packs (...pack pack packpackpaaaaaack) and a movie Bumblebee 'Wacky Wobbler'. Needless to say, the not-a-bobblehead had to come home with us. But it got better.

Target had Bumble Spud. On sale. (Yeah, okay, a dollar off, whatever.) So he had to come along as well. There was no way I was leaving him behind.

After we bought our swag, we headed to the Target across town. Prime figured that there was a good chance that they would have a hobby box or two. He was right; we snagged all three of their hobby boxes. After spending way too much money, we headed home.

We decided to make a quick stop at our local Burger King; they'll have ROTF kid's meals and we want to snag the displays and the like. Because we're dorks. So I headed in and left my information with the manager while Prime opened up one of our new hobby boxes.

Poor Prime. When I returned to our car, I noticed a somewhat pained expression on his face. It seems that the first boxed pack he opened had a rare card. An autographed card. Autographed by Mark Ryan.

I let loose the shriek to end all shrieks. Prime knew at that moment he was screwed; I was claiming that card as my own. Yeah, he kinda hated me for a bit. (Okay, it was longer than a bit...)

When we got home, Prime opened the rest of our cards. Remember the blisterpacks he had spotted? Prime had snagged one of them, after a little pawing to find one with a backer card that wasn't chewed (completism is a mental disease, and Prime's case is particularly gruesome). The first pack inside was a bust, but the second one he opened.... had an autographed card. A Mark Ryan autographed card. So now we both have one. 1:91 odds, according to the packs, and this happens. Heck of a lucky break, I tell you.

(Prime says: Oh, right, yeah. Five other autographed cards to track-and-acquire. Megan Fox's from the first set isn't hard enough with all the pathetic horndogs out there--now I have to fight with lonely women with disposable income to get Shia LeBeouf's, and nutbar basement-dwellers for Peter Cullen's. A. A. R. G. H.)

Perfect ending to a sucky week. The little angel strikes yet again.

(Oh, shut up.)

Quiet, grouchicon.

--Weasel, "Maybe this week hasn't been so bad after all..."