There is no better place to read comics than in a tree house, by a pond, on a summer day. The sounds of birds and squirrels, acorns thwapping against the roof, then as night falls, the buzz of the cicadas. Maybe I had a bottle of Royal Palm Grape Soda and some gum balls I bought with my change. I'd light the kerosene lamp and secure the trap door against werewolves. Then I'd reverently review the cover art, trying to decide where to begin.