Number One in the 'Hood, G'

I take a break from fretting, painting, packing and moving for a barbecue at Dom's girlfriend Theresa's house. Dom, Sharkey and I are Groucho, Harpo and Chico this summer, with Theresa and Theresa's constant companion Natalie playing Gummo and Zeppo. In real life, Dom and I have the similar names and go by the same nick. He is a huge, tattooed former skinhead. We gossip about art, artists, music and musicians. In constrast with many of my closest friends, he and I never got a room.

At the barbecue, I meet a friend of his, a fireman Dom calls Nine Toe. Nine Toe has apparently been hanging around the same people and places I have forever but we've never met. He introduces himself as Dom. It dawns on us and we are amused. For the rest of the evening, Sharkey introduces us to newcomers.

Sharkey: That's Dom, Dom and Dom. And for convenience's sake, you can call me Dom too.
Tata: Over in that corner, shout "DEBBIE!" and watch what happens.

Sharkey is a handsome fellow. Amusingly, Frylock of Aqua Teen Hunger Force bears a striking resemblance to our hero. I'm wearing the t-shirt because I enjoy a superhero whose magical power is common sense. And laser eyes, but that's beside the point. In the grocery store on the way to the picnic, the 16-year-old cashier stares my Dragonball Z lunchbox. Then he spies my Aqua Teen Hunger Force, which because of my...ahem!...huge tracts o' land, the average bystander might imagine announced my arrival, but no. Anyway, he gushes.

Cashier: That's the best freaking show! Where'd you get the t-shirt?
Tata: Cartoon Network sells them.
Cashier: You sell them?
Tata: Sure. I wear one of these, they see a spike in sales.
Cashier: What? What did you say?
Tata: My friend looks exactly like Frylock!
Cashier: He he he he he he he he he he he. Send him over here!
Tata: He's not the kind of man you tell what to do. Not unless you're a lissome blonde. With a can of whipped cream.
Cashier: What?
Tata: Is this really an express lane? Express what?

Sharkey takes one look at my shirt.

Sharkey: My face is on your boob.
Tata: Dahhhhhhhhhhling, whose isn't? I mean - we should dye your hair blonde for Halloween.
Sharkey: Wouldn't my face be red?

Shoot. No redder than mine. I looked around in the grocery store and saw people my age who were really 900 years old. Maybe they're not sure, but I'm not ready to be Margaret Dumont.