"I think it's a tattoo parlor, Gregory."
"Okay, everybody act natural."
Good, you're here. We've been waiting all night.
She sees you coming a mile away.
Plus the goatish goatherd.
Mothers, hide your kids. And your husband. Maybe the dog, too.
Pounding pavement or hitting the grass?
Awesome middle-ground Celtic Frost worship.
Now who's a loser, Cheryl?
Pop art at its most vital.