“In all seriousness, I’m waiting for you to bring that up to the counter, and the register girl to take one look at it, at you, and then shake her head, ‘No’ and then slide it back across the counter.”
He scrutinizes the chart on the back of the box. I’m relieved when a salesman finally approaches us.
“Do you gentlemen need help?”
“Yes,” I say and point at Homer. “This man needs lots and lots of help. Preferably yours.”
Twenty seconds earlier.
“So, what do you think?” He says, holding up the plastic container. “Large? I mean, the chart on the back seems to indicate that I’m right on the border.” He points to the location on the chart.
“I think,” I say, taking a step back. “That this is a very personal decision that every man needs to make on his own. Or get your wife involved.”
Thirty seconds earlier.
“Seriously, I think I may need a codpiece for the costume this year.”