Caz was almost out of food (barely a week's worth left!), so I ran out to the Pets Mart to get him another 40 pounds. This put me next to a Spirit store.

I'm not sure if Spirit is nationwide. It's an insubstantial entity that infests dead stores and brings them back to a semblance of life for Hallowe'en. Once the holiday passes, the stores die once more.

If you prefer, it's a Hallowe'en costume shop that short-term leases empty storefronts.

This store is aimed at both children and adults. It's well-lit, well-laid out, and easy to navigate through. I found more sexy-whatever costumes than I'd ever imagined. I've been in porno-shops with fewer sexy-whatever getups.

But that's another story.

What drew me to Spirit was a google search for a sexy Viking Axe.

OK, maybe not sexy, but it occurred to me that I might be able to construct a cover for Promised Rewards if I had a better prop than my wood-splitting axe.

The plastic axe at Spirit is actually pretty good looking. Not sexy, but attractive, if you will. With that and my pear-bodied mandolin and a scattering of foreign coins, I might be able to make a nice cover.

And, back to the another story.

In the sixties and seventies, writing science fiction and fantasy didn't pay much. Writing pornography paid much better. So a number of mid-level authors had a day-job writing porn to support their late-night hobby of writing SF.

Some friends and I had the clever idea of creating a fanzine, and getting instant popularity/notoriety by reviewing these author's porn.

My first apartment after graduating college was very affordable (read cheap). And, with cheap, goes a less than ritzy neighborhood. There was a porno shop about two blocks from my apartment, so I was elected to buy the books we'd review.

This place was everything you'd imagine a porn shop to be: a small, shabby brick building with painted plywood windows and a heavy steel door. Inside, it was ill-lit and crowded with books and magazines and a few shelves of "stuff". The guy behind the counter needed a clean t-shirt and a shave.

I quickly learned that folks don't go into these establishments looking for a book by author and title.

"Is that straight porn, gay porn or S&M?" the clerk asked me.

"Umm, straight, I think. The title is 'Daddy's Little Harlot'"

"Incest is third shelf back."

They didn't have the book I wanted, but as I thumbed my way through the stacks, another customer sidled up to me and mentioned that he had a fine collection of pornography, and he'd give me a ride to his house and we'd see if he had anything I liked.

I left the store and a brisk walk, then ran home as fast as I could, dashing down dark alleys and darting around parked cars and bushes whenever possible.