327 Market

One Last thing

in the pocket of my red velvet jacket I found one of the HG cards with Mr Farmer's cell # and the address of Isotope Comics scrawled on the back.

The address is in the inner Sunset. If there is a Lancaster in the City, this would be it. Farmer of B Minus Comics told me there was going to be a party there Sunday evening after APE. It took me a half hour of wandering the labyrinth of Diamond Heights to get across town. It was quite scenic. When I finally arrived at the corner, i couldn't find the store. The neighborhood was nearly deserted and a bracing wind swept the wide boulevard. I half expected to see a tumble weed. The storefronts were dusty and the signs were in chinese. A few lonely souls, bundled against the wind, straggled here and there. It looked like the last time anyone dropped any money into this area was in the 50s. The colors were the muted hues of a town exposed to all the fury of the Pacific. I finally found the store, it was locked up tight. I peered into the back, and my own reflection was the only living thing I saw. I sign on the door said that the store was closed for APE. I called Farmer from a payphone at a gas station and all I got was his gibberish answering message. Maybe it wasn't even his.