The
        Rossman's California Dreams and Adventures 
        (page 6: Deadly Restaurant..... Of DOOM!)
        When we got back to the "pick
        up/drop off" lot Kuni and I found that good ol' Pepe was
        not waiting for us like we asked him to. Instead we got Pepe's
        replacement, Fasil (rhymes with "facil", the Spanish
        word for "easy".... which he was much to Kuni's pants-shitting
        delight). Despite his Spanish sounding name Fasil wasn't a commie
        bastard. He was from Tunisia and he was an asshole (and he smelled
        like one too). He wouldn't shut the fuck up and all he would
        talk about was how much better his "place of origin"
        was than the U.S. of A. (apparently the dust and sand filled
        plains of North Africa are the ideal place to raise a family...
        away from all the guns and food and medication that bad Americans
        have to deal with). Those are always fightin' words to this here
        Rossman, but he calmed me down by playing some groovy chant-muzak
        like those natives in Close Encounters of the Third Kind
        when they perform the tune that the "Sun" taught them
        the night before. 
        I was busy jamming with the wailing tunes until I noticed
        that Fasil (that bad, bad man) was taking us back to Universal
        City the long way, through Mexico. He said it was more scenic
        and a better trip for the confused souls of Western Man, but
        it sure as hell wasn't worth the $342 in fares (and 2 gas station
        fill ups) that it cost. When we eventually got back to the hotel
        I drew a mustache on him like Dick Dastardly from Wacky Races
        with a permanent marker. I thought that it would make him unattractive
        in the eyes of females and thus punish him more than he hurt
        my wallet. Unfortunately Kuni told me that it had the opposite
        effect on him and made him "swoon like a sex-toy mother
        bitch". 
        Soooooooo, we quickly headed over to Bucca di Beppo
        for some dinner. Last year I had a great time at the Beppo. I
        ended up sitting with a computer graphics company that was having
        a special dinner out for all the under appreciated CGI artists
        in their employment (I so understood their plight). They were
        cool and they kept telling me all the rugged Hollywood secrets
        and stuff that they had to cover up or work with in their field
        (like the fact that a certain Antonio "trying to cover his
        gay ass by marrying the hideous Melanie" B. is totally bald
        and they had to charge $20million to put computer generated hair
        on him in his latest movie). At the end of the huge meal I was
        also able to sneak my bill into their tab (saved me around $70).
        This time, unfortunately, I only had Kuni with me as company.
        Because of that I didn't even get a cute waitress. 
        After continually begging for Kobe Masahiko to cook his "Italy
        spaghetti foods" personally he was finally beaten down by
        a busboy and forced to color in his placemat in silence. I gave
        that busboy a huge tip and charged everything to Kuni's Master
        Card (which I slipped out of his wallet when he was busy trying
        to dance with the kitchen staff to the silent music in his mind).
        Well, of course it was declined (it always is after his huge
        pornography shopping sprees) and we were both forced to wash
        dishes for the rest of the night. At least until my semi-retarded
        friend kept breaking them while trying to drill a hole in some
        in order to "have the sex with hard plates experience".
        They put curses on us, spit on us and demanded that we never
        have any children. I promised them that there was no way in hell
        I'd ever have a child with Kuni, and they kicked us out and threw
        us into some dumpsters (just for the feeling of superiority I'm
        guessing). 
        
          
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             In
            order to try and make nice-nice with the chefs, I decided to
            bless them by allowing them to pose with me and be immortalized
            on my site. 
            Despite
            the fact that my veal was tasty, tender and nummy, I thought
            that these two culinary masters of world cuisine could exploit
            a few pointers from the ever impressive Carl's Jr. I suggested
            that they use a "special sauce" for all their entrees
            in the future along with french fries on the side of any order
            with meat. Shakes (vanilla, chocolate and strawberry) are a necessity
            too, along with Double Bacon Cheeseburgers and Fish Fillet sandwiches
            for Catholics in Lent. And one can never go wrong with boiling
            hot apple pies filled with lava for dessert. The last proposal
            I fed them was the most important yet also the most overlooked
            in the "fancy dining experience": A playland of some
            sort with lots of slides and a ball room. Ball rooms kick ass.  |  
           
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