by Kyle Davis

The Origin Of Fanboy Kyle
"Well, as long as you donít crap in any of the boxes down stairs, you can stay," Steve told me. Wow, now thatís the kind of boss I can get used to. What other kind of boss would tell you that he doesnít want you defecating in the storeís supplies? None, that I can think of off hand. Sure, it is a helpful tip, but what boss would actually warn you about this? I had ended my first day as an employee at the Edge, and it sounded like I might be there to stay. And thatís how my quest at the Edge began. I would later go on to do battle with the evil forces of the Collectorís Edge back stock of nearly a million issues, a battle which I still am currently losing, and have to occasional team-up with Steve at the Edge-South store. Now, two days away from the end of my first year at the Edge (at time of this writing, January 30, 2002), I guess this is my attempt at fanboy reflecting.

Wait, let me back up a little bit. Let me attempt to explain the owner-manís choice of words. In late January of 2001, Dave Mehling from the South Edge store tipped me in that there was now an opening at the store. I had inquired the status of a possible job at the Edge the previous summer, and thankfully Dave had remembered. Since I was in just about every Wednesday to pick up my weekly dose of comic goodness, I guess it was hard to forget.

"You know, you should come in and talk to Steve, the owner," Dave said in his cautious voice. It was as if he had selected me specially! Damn did I feel special. I then asked what I would actually do at the Edge, and then Dave informed me that I would most likely be working in the basement sorting and organizing the backstock of the store. Sounded easy and innocent enough, right? Right!? Oh how simple minded I was to comics back then. ĎBackstockí and Ďeasyí, both being in the same sentence? Not bloody likely pal. Dave then showed me the basement after the Edge closed, and I was floored. I had never seen so many comics. This would become my new dungeon.

And so I visited Steve, and inquired about the job. After a brief "interview", which mainly consisted of a couple "Do you know what company publishes (enter comic title here)" questions, I was told to come back the next week and we would see what would happen. A very temporary sounding solution at the time being. Friday came, and I began my first of many dastardly projects for Steve: going through the backstock upstairs and replace what was missing with issues found downstairs. Okay, yeah I can handle this. It went smoothly, and the fact that I still got to watch "The Simpsons" while on the job was a nice plus.

The night ended, and it was time to close. My ride had arrived, so I bid my leave to the store. As I strolled out the door, Steve then spoke the famous line above. This would definitely be nothing like a normal job other people my age usually have. And now weíre back at the beginning of our story. Does the big manís line make any more sense? Well, now thinking back to it again, no it doesnít. The line didnít make sense then, and it still doesnít make sense. Sure, if I did decide to relieve myself in a box downstairs, I wouldnít be there for much longer. Itís the oddness of the line that throws everything off though. The sheer randomness of the line is beyond any logical explanation.

Issue one of "The Adventures of the Edge, featuring Fanboy Kyle" was now concluded, and ready for new adventures. Later issues featured the debut of the villainous Week-Filer, whose powers included the ability to create a stack of comics that needed to be filed in the Edge basement every week to no end. He is defeated every week, but he returns the next week as if the previous battle had never taken place. I have yet to fully vanquish him from the universe, and I believe I may never defeat him. He is my arch nemesis. On several occasions, the Week-Filer has used its vile Shifter device, which forces our hero Fanboy Kyle to have to shift the entire comic collection to make room in many clogged boxes. Rumors say the last battle spanned two months.

In time, I began teaming up with the Kingpin of the Edge, Steve, more often. I was upstairs and far away from the black hole known as the basement. I eventually was even trusted enough to watch the store while Steve-Dave (yet another name for Steve) left to fill himself up with necessary amounts of coffee. Unfortunately for him, Steve-Dave always brought his cell phone, allowing me to call him when I was unsure of what to do. This of course happened many times. It was especially fun when I would call him literally seconds after he leaves. Wacky hijinks ensued.

More time past, and I guess weíre back in the present. The third issue a week of "The Adventures of the Edge, featuring Fanboy Kyle," was added two months ago when I took over at the Edge-West store on Sundays. Yes thatís right, Fanboy Kyle has complete control over an Edge store on Sundays. No, wait, come back! I want to sell you comics! Really! Oh well, guess I just killed the little business there was on Sundays. My bad. Iím sure Steve-Dave will blame the lack of sales on Sundays on my "awful heavy metal music," as he calls it. "Those Metallica fellas worship the devil Kyle. Now we donít want you worshiping the devil too, do we?" No Steve-Dave, I guess we donít. Especially not with the "Devil Worshiperís Handbook" somewhere in the Edge, which I still rank as the funniest book Iíve ever read. Of course the book has probably since been burned and sacrificed to Shazam. That darn Billy Batson, now heís the devil worshiper if you ask me.

And so ends my attempt at reminiscing of times gone by. I guess the moral of the story isÖ umÖ donít do crack. I guess thatíll have to do, though it has little to no relevance to this story. Your crack money is better spent on comics anyway. At least thatís what Steve-Dave tells me. And to that, I say "Tell Ďem Steve-Dave!"

eMail "Tell'em Steve-Dave!"