Note: This story involves a character of mine named Lazarus. Now, Lazarus is normally 16 years old. However, this story takes place two years in the future, so he’s 18. Mainly because I don’t write child porn; that’s completely gross. I also made a boo-boo about where he’s from. In Twilight on Dreamworld, I mention that he’s Taiwanese, but that would suggest he’s from Taiwan. The original concept was that he was from Thailand, but I really don’t know if the people call themselves Thai or Thaiwanese or whatever. I apologize for the mix-up and I hope this clarifies things. The story is involved and may be a little lengthy, but I think it’s worth it. Have fun, read on and enjoy.
Whoever said dreams don’t come true didn’t know what they were talking about. Approximately two years ago, I was a twirpy little geek with nothing but a bunch of crazy fantasies and the most intricate dream realm anyone could ever imagine. If you told me back then that I’d be sitting in Jim Hanley’s Universe in Midtown Manhattan doing a comic book signing right now, I’d have laughed at you. Here I am, however, sitting behind this huge desk before a line of people that would make George Lucas proud.
It all began happening after I came home. I tried to think of how I could immortalize those characters in just the right way. About four months later, the first issue of “In Your Dreams” came out. It was about me, a regular loser cartoonist kid from a broken home dreamed up a superhero…Lazarus. Low and behold, a few months after creating him, strange sightings of a young, nubile Thai crimefighter began popping up all over the city. It was a way I could introduce all my characters, old and new into the storyline. All in all, I’m very pleased with it, and I’m currently working on issue #20!
In the beginning, it was hard. I sold three issues at a time to comic stores at half the cover price as a trial. However, it wasn’t until the third issue came out that all of a sudden, my comic became a hit. It was as if people discovered my comic much like archeologists would discover an ancient Egyptian tomb. I have a buyer mailing list a mile long, with people all over the country! I never imagined the comic would do so well.
About a year ago, I moved out of my mother’s house, and now I live in a small basement apartment in Old Mill Basin, Brooklyn. It’s quaint and there’s never enough light, but it suffices as both my living quarters and my studio. There’s a man I’ve been working on this with. An editor whose been working with me since issue #5. His name is Bryon, believe it or not, same as my imaginary friend whom I re-discovered only two years ago. He even spells it the same way. He and I are very close. He’s only four months younger than me and he and I clicked almost immediately; sort of like we’ve known each other our entire lives. He’s got this short brown hair in a mushroom-ish cut and these beautiful emerald green eyes. His body’s pretty hot too, and I should know because I stare at it all the time. We’ve never even kissed, let alone slept together, and I’m not even sure my feelings for him are mutual, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all I’ve been through, it’s that I can always dream.
“Oh my God, Jasper! Jasper Collins!” A girl about my age with the longest blond hair I’ve ever seen leaps up and down in front of me. “I am SUCH a fan! I have three copies of each issue and I even bought a signed lithograph from Ebay! When are you coming out with the trade paperback??”
I rub the back of my neck nervously. “Trade paperback? Hmm. Never occurred to me…” I glance at Bryon who’s been sitting next to me this whole time. He didn’t like signing autographs; he was just there for moral support. “That’s something to look into. What do you think?”
“We’ll be rich. Let’s do it.” He replies with his signature, charming smile, flicking my round glasses playfully.
“Oh my God,” The blond continues as I hand her the signed comic back. “I absolutely LOVE Quentin. Why did you have to make him gay??”
Bryon and I glance at each other and chuckle. “The character wouldn’t have worked as well otherwise, ma’am.” I smile and motion for the next person to step up. I glance at my watch and realize we’ve been here for forty minutes, and my publisher hasn’t shown up yet. He was supposed to bring us some sort of surprise.
“Sorry I’m late!!” We both turn to see him waddle through the door, sweat pouring down his temples like a geyser. Good ole’ plump Jeffrey from Paradise Found Press. “Have I got a treat for you!” He brushes his thinning red hair back and the sweat makes it stay like that. “You’re going to flip out!”
“What’s up, Jeff, what did you bring us?” I stand up to shake his hand, and Jeffrey stuffs a small square backpack into my hands.
“Go on, tell me what you think! Am I a genius or WHAT??”
Bryon leans over me to look over my shoulder. “Open it! I wanna see!”
The clasps unsnap and I see something blue and black peek out. “Jeff, what the hell is this?” I frown at him as some of the closer people on line rubberneck. I take it out and unfold it. I swear to God, half the room bursts into hysterical laughter.
“It’s the actual Lazarus costume! C’mon, isn’t it cool?? I had it tailored and made special, just for you! Just for issue number twenty! It even comes with a wig and nun-chucks!” I barely hear him because of Bryon laughing so hard in my ear. Everyone is laughing except me. I merely resolve to stand there, beet red from humiliation.
Jeffrey gets closer to me and murmurs, “It’s nice, right? C’mon, tell me what you’re thinking.”
I lean over, display a sinister grin and murmur back, “Start running.”
I make it a staple to move the line along at this point, knowing full well what a long, stressful day this is turning into. I might be enjoying myself, but I had to admit, I wouldn’t mind being home in bed right now. __
“WOW!!” Bryon exclaims, nearly falling through my doorway. I’m quick to follow, equally as exhausted. “I need a swig of whiskey and a nice, warm futon. Can I borrow yours?”
“You can borrow it for about twenty minutes, just long enough for me to take a shower and change, and then I’ll have to kick you out.” I walk into the little alcove where I keep my dresser, toss aside that stupid fucking costume and begin gathering my clothing.
Bryon plops himself lazily down on my futon and whines pathetically. “Aww, c’mon, man. Can’t I sleep over? I don’t feel like traveling over an hour and a half to get home.”
“I’ll call you a taxi.” I frown, my back towards him so he can’t see how much it hurts to send him home. I want so badly for him to spend the night, but I’m afraid I might do something stupid and fuck up our whole relationship. In essence, I just don’t trust myself to be good around him. But I can’t let him know that.
“Goddammit, Jason.” He folds his arms and my eyes fling open. It’s been so long since anyone besides my mother has called me that. For a moment, I think about how tragic it is that I barely respond to my real name anymore. Around other people, he usually called me Jasper.