Fourscore and ten days ago, Darren and I embarked on an odyssey to become the first Americans to get our grubby little paws on the Soul of Chogokin Daikumaryu...

Placing an order well in advance of knowing the actual release date, our dealer friend assured us we'd be at the top of the heap.

Through snow and rain and into the sweltering beginnings of a new summer, we waited patiently whilst I cajoled tidbits of die-cast information from insider friends and Japanese toy-rags. Release dates were announced and changed; still we waited, secure in our knowledge that ordering straight from sources in olde Nippon was the way of the enlightened toy-maniac. And for a hundred and twenty-four dollars a pop, could we really go wrong?

Then came the inevitable day of reckoning. The first full-color shots of the production model shimmered in pixel-light before our eyes, a mirage of life-sustaining zinc alloy in a desert of plastic toys. Like Alice and her mysterious potion labeled drink me, we couldn't help ourselves. Robot junkies jonesing for another diecast fix, hyperlinking to site after site of fortunate Japanese Daiku-owner, we sat smug in our knowledge that come hell or high water, we'd be the first in THIS country to snuggle up to the big guy.

Finally, email confirmation from our dealer friend. "It's off and away!" said he. Too bad it's the beginning of a major Japanese holiday. Too bad there's no telling if the Japanese postal system managed to airlift our precious Kargo off the island before things shut down for the week. Of all the times for a nation of hard-boiled salarymen to rest. . . C'est la vie. And anyway, everyone else was in the exact same boat we were. Suckers!

Day after day, Darren checked his mail-drop for a sign. Day after day, I sat in my office, staring at the phone, knowing that the NEXT time it rang I'd be getting word about my goddamn diecast robot dragon.

Wait -- what was that sound?

The CHOGO-PHONE WAS RINGING!

I dove for the handset, knowing I couldn't let the news fall on the emotionless electronic ears of my voice-mail. I had to hear it myself, had to savor the moment for all it was worth. Bowels a-quiver, I lifted the phone from its cradle without saying a word.

"It's Yappy," said the voice on the other end of the line. "I just got my Daikumaryu! My favorite dealer's selling them for $99 shipped! I'll have it by tomorrow! But you've already gotten yours, right? And it was probably cheaper. Right? Hello? Hello...?"

I swear to God I'm going to take up stamp collecting.