“Don’t touch those. You don’t want those stinky comics.” says the shop owner.

Suprised, I pull my hands away from the stacks. Wasn’t this a comic book store?

“Wait, I know what’s going on,” I tease, “You just don’t want to sell these comics because you want to keep them all for yourself.”

“No way. I want to get rid of them!” He glares over his glasses. “They’re just taking up counter space. But if you are only are going to buy one thing you should buy a cool Doctor Who thing.”

The store I’m in, named Daily Star Comics after the Daily Planet’s main rival for press dominance in the world of Superman, is nearly devoid of Super items. Instead, Whovian merchandise lines the room. Posters, socks, books, action figures, key chains. Original drawings from a local kid.

I had been drawn to the full-size (well, on the exterior) TARDIS replica outside on a detour to Metropolis, Illinois, a small and dilapidated town on the Kentucky border that DC Comics had declared the official home of Superman in 1972. There’s a museum and large statue dedicated to the character in the center of town.

Road-trippers come to Daily Star Comics for a photo opportunity but leave with a story. The comics shop owner, who had originally introduced himself as “the Doctor” but goes by Will in more quotidian usage, said that he had moved to Metropolis from Philadelphia with his wife and toddler.

“Ah, do you have friends or family in the Midwest?” I ask.

“No, this is Metropolis.”

What other reason could there be?

Will had opened the Daily Star in November 2012 as a Superman-themed comic book store. The business was losing money every month, but last June something monumental happened. Man of Steel, the latest Hollywood superhero reboot, arrived in theaters.

“In ‘Man of Steel’, Superman went against everything I believe in. He killed.” Will explained that in the film, the icon of justice snaps the neck of the villain General Zod. “I can’t sell Superman stuff to children now. Superman doesn't kill. How, I mean, how I am supposed to support this? They've ruined everything.”

Will said that Doctor Who, however, demonstrates “a lot of good Christian values,” so he decided to convert his store along with his allegiance. Sure enough, the 10th Doctor and two of his companions are paying tribute to a ceramic baby Jesus in a corner nativity scene. Hey, the Doctor has a time machine. It could have happened.

Ten minutes later while browsing the internet on the way out of town, I come across a lengthy write-up from the local paper, which is called — what else? — the Planet (it’s published weekly).

There are a couple of photos of Will wearing Superman t-shirts. The article delves into the difficulties of his childhood and the multi-decade journey to the town of his dreams. Go read part one and part two in the Metropolis Planet. I’ll wait.

Reading the article out loud in the car, I feel my insides twisting. I could handle all the details of his troubled personal history — the controlling, alcoholic father, the prematurely deceased mother, the unsympathetic counselors, the financial and medical problems — if only Will’s faith in the man of steel hadn't been broken last summer. I mean, this is a guy who donned Superman shirts almost every day and moved half way across the country to to follow his boyhood icon.

Taking a deep breath, I pause and remember that Will did say the store was losing money dealing in Superman comics. Maybe sonic screwdrivers and TARDIS mugs are a better bet. Besides, Doctor Who is cooler anyway, right? I just hope Will can make a large enough profit to sustain his little store.

And I hope the writers of Doctor Who never have him violate his own moral code. This universe already has too many fallen heroes.