I DID THE DOO-RAGTHE DOO-RAG CREPT THROUGH THE doorway like a soulful crab—a little sideways shuffle, a slow James Brown across my wooden floor to the couch. I offered him some refreshment. A piece of fatback and water preferably from the toilet is what he said would make his beady eyes roll. I complied as best I could. I dropped a bit of turd in the water—at his request.
The doo-rag sat quietly for a moment sipping his cocktail and nibbling on some salmon Hors d oeuvres I had prepared. I tried to observe him when he wasn’t looking. But his crab sense felt my gaze.
“What?” he asked rather abruptly.
“In your description on MAN4EVERYTHING, you said you looked like Johnny Depp.”
He pointed at his doo-rag.
“Oh, we’re doing a pirate theme this evening,” I said to myself. “Arrgh! Arrgh!” I
