Grocery shopping. Not something I'm exactly in the habit of doing. (Just ask my Aunt May.) Today is a special occasion though. It's my do-over, a chance to prove to Gwen's mom and brothers that I'm not a complete scumbag. Seeing as how the last time I was at their house for dinner things went about as smoothly as sand paper, and I was a no show at Captain Stacy's funeral, I can't really blame them for thinking I utterly suck as a human being. Heck, I almost agree with them. Gwen swears they don't hate me, but I'm going to continue operating under the assumption that they do until I can prove otherwise. Part of me thinks I shouldn't be here now, with Gwen, in the frozen food section of Al's Supermarket, looking for steaks. After all, I did promise her father before he died that I would leave Gwen out of my life. But I just couldn't stay away. If you had been lucky enough to kiss those lips you wouldn't blame me. Man, is she a great kisser. Best kisser I've ever dated. Okay, so she's the only girl I've ever dated, and technically the only girl I've ever kissed (does mouth-to-mouth from a hot lifeguard count?) but that's not all she's got. Beauty, brains, bravery, wit for days, she's the total package. Plus, she knows all about my activities in the red and blue onesie and she's completely okay with it. What more could I ask for?

"Peter, Earth to Peter? Are you inner-monologuing again?"

"I owe my audience a narration of events, Gwen."

"You're insane. Maybe I should ask Flash Thompson to dinner tonight instead."

"He'll be talking about 'my other half' so much that I'll practically still be there. You know he started a fan club at school, right? A fan club."

"I thought you'd be honored, and besides, aren't you best buds now?"

"Let's just say I haven't yet accepted the friend request. He's spent most of our high school careers making my misery his number one goal every single day. I swear, it was probably written on his bathroom mirror."

"Right under taking candy from babies and sharpening his pitchfork."

"Exactly!"

"Peter, he's just trying to grow up a little bit. Cut him some slack. I think I'm going with the New York Strip."

"Why, Miss Stacy, here, in front of all these people? How scandalous. What would I tell your family tonight after you get arrested for indecent exposure?"

"My mother would be devastated. My brothers would probably just look at you and say 'It's about time'. Now let's get cheesecake."

The two make their way towards the frozen desserts only to discover a 400 pound man putting the last five of them into his buggy.

"Well there goes our dessert plans."

"Who needs five cheesecakes? "

"Oh, those may not even last him the day. That guy lives in my apartment building. Some of our neighbors told us his diet consists of cheesecake, Fritos, and Code Red Mountain Dews."

"At least it's a well-balanced diet. Do you know his name? I'm gonna find him and ask him to spare a cheesecake."

"Approach at your own risk, Peter. There's a reason he lives alone. I think his name is Frederick. And it's just Frederick, apparently. No middle or last name."

"One name? Who is he, Cher? Wish me luck."

Peter scours the aisles of the supermarket until he finds Frederick picking up a bag of Fritos.

"Hi, Frederick. My name's Peter Parker, I'm a friend of the Stacy family, they live in your apartment building."

"I've heard of them. What about them?"

"Well, you see, I'm going over to their place for dinner tonight. I really want things to go smoothly and cheesecake is Mrs. Stacy's favorite. Could you please spare just one of them?"

"Hmmm….perhaps. For fifty bucks."

"Fifty bucks?! Are you stoned?"

"That's the price, punk. Take it or leave it."

Knowing they need to get back to Gwen's place asap, Peter reluctantly agrees.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Peter."

"Yeah, yeah. Right back at you, Freddy."

Just when Peter believed he was home free, Frederick turns around and glares at him as if he had just pissed in his corn flakes.

"What did you just call me?"

"Um, Freddy."

"What have we already established that my name is? The name you knew ninety seconds ago when you dared step in my line of sight just to ask for food that is rightfully now mine?"

"Well, you haven't actually paid for it yet…"

"WHAT IS MY NAME?!"

"Fr-Frederick."

"That's right. I come from a long line of Fredericks. Not Freds or Freddys. Fredericks. That is my name and my family's legacy and I will take it with me to the grave!"

With the way he eats he won't have to wait much longer.

"Look, Frederick, I'm sorry. I never meant to insult you."

"Too late. The damage has been done. Take your dirty whore money and give me back my cheesecake."

Frederick dropped Peter's fifty dollars to the ground and snatched back the cheesecake. Peter returned to Gwen with a look of defeat.

"Did I forget to mention that he's extremely sensitive about his name?"

"Yeah, ya did."

"Don't worry about it. We'll make do without it."

"Oh, no. Tonight has to be perfect. And nothing says perfect like cheesecake."

"Hard to disagree."

"Leave everything to me, Gwen. Go ahead and get in line at the register."

"Are you sure you won't make things worse?"

"No."

Gwen nervously got in line and flipped through an issue of People magazine. She found it pretty uninteresting until she got to a page with a picture of Lady Gaga wearing a dress made out of koala kidneys. She had to turn the magazine counter-clockwise just to make sure the picture was real and that she wasn't having a stroke. Not wanting to look at it anymore but unable to turn the page, Gwen stared at it intensely with one eye open and one eye closed until Peter came and broke her out of her trance. He dropped the cheesecake into her buggy but not before pulling what appeared to be webbing off of it.

"How did you-"

"Nuh uh uh. Don't ask questions that you don't want the answers to. The important thing is we got the cheesecake and everything's going according to plan."

"Everybody, put your hands up!"

"Or not."

A middle-aged man barged into the supermarket wearing a grey sweatshirt, blue jeans, a ski mask, and a nine millimeter pistol, every thug's must have accessory this season. After collecting all of the money from every available cash register, he stormed out of the building, hoping to avoid capture by the police. All it took was one look between Peter and Gwen before he was off. He ran into the alley next to the supermarket as Peter Parker and emerged as the hero that New Yorkers affectionately (at least some of them) called Spider-Man.

"Hey, Ski Mask Man, wait up!"

Spider-Man swung from a web and landed in front of the thug. The thug pulled his gun out and started firing at Spider-Man, who dodged the shots with ease.

"So you don't like your name? I can do better. How about…The Hoodie? Or…well there's nothing else very distinctive about you except that gun…"

Spider-Man shot a web line at the nine millimeter, yanked it out of the thug's hands and slammed it against the side of the building next to him.

"And now you don't even have that."

Spider-Man webbed the thug to a street light. The gunshots had attracted the attention of a nearby squad car, which was now pulling up to the scene.

"I'll tell you what. I'll jot down a few ideas and get back to you."

With that last remark, Spider-Man swung back towards Al's Supermarket and, as Peter Parker, met Gwen Stacy outside.

"Did you get him?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"How silly of me. After dealing with Fab 5 Freddy and a robbery, impressing my family at dinner ought to be a piece of cake."

"Cake…cheesecake…I see what you did there."

"Shut up."