The Bet

Neil Gaiman is my favorite author, hands down. I have almost everything he's ever written. I've been sharing him a bunch with Taylor, reading short stories over the phone, and lending her my copy of Fragile Things. When I was in Sacramento she gave me a call as I was between activities. I flopped down outside on the curb to talk to her. She said she was off her mountain and down in town, in the local bookstore. I urged her to pick up a copy of American Gods, and she said that the bookstore didn't carry any Neil Gaiman.

"That's crazy," I told her, "He's currently on the New York Times bestseller list, he's had three of his books made into major motion pictures, as well as having won several awards on a bunch of his novels. If they sell books, they sell Neil Gaiman." She insisted no, they had none of his books in stock and we went back and forth until I finally said, "I bet you." I could hear her eyebrow raise over the phone. "A for real bet?" "A for real bet. If I win, and they have at least one of his books, you have to send me one of your shirts to wear." I waited for her stakes, and she hummed and thought and finally burst out laughing. "If I win, I want you to use the word 'cum-dumpster' in a sentence." I turned bright red. "What?" "You have to say it, and not like, 'I have to say this word', you have to casually slip it in- to a family member, not some stranger. And you have to say it before you leave Sacramento."

I know I work where I do, and I know that it shouldn't be a big deal, but there's a lot of words that I don't like in my vernacular, and "cum-dumpster" is definitely a no-go for me. Not to mention I was with the more conservative side of my family- relatively speaking. Hesitantly I said, "You're on. But I want to be on the phone while you ask the clerk, no cheating." She went inside and asked if they carried any Neil Gaiman. To my horror the clerk said she'd never heard of him, and that she'd look him up.

To her credit, Taylor was thorough. "Try fantasy, or he writes some books for kids and young adults." The clerk went through each section and I started getting redder and redder, contemplating a near future in which I'd agreed to alienate a family member. There was a long pause in the conversation, and I could feel Taylor getting excited as victory beckoned. "Oh," the clerk said, "We do have one copy of Coraline." Taylor huffed out an annoyed breath and I whooped on my end of the call, laughing with relief.

That was some time ago, but I just got my package in the mail. Taylor always has the best shirts, with little pockets on the chest. But she also sent a copy of Coraline, wrapped and signed.