The Won-Ton Violence Take-Out Hut

[Renegade 13]

I won't even approach this place unless I can have my special: Xiati kebobs, marinated, and served with a habenero pepper sauce.

[narf poit chez BOOM]

Nah, I think I'll just throw in random combustables.

[RudyHuxtable]

Renegade, done. I'll produce an updated menu as people bring me favorites.

What about drinks, guys?

Let's get intergalactic here.

[Kamog]

Are the FBW's at this new place cuter than the ones at the old place?

Are there any FBW's here at all?

Well, I like the name of this new place. I'll come back with my samurai sword and ninja weapons, just in case a fight breaks out.

[narf poit chez BOOM]

OOC: If a fight breaks out, a certain mouse will be here as fast as the NSN Murpy's Law will putter.

BTW, are there any nearby stellar objects I should be aware of when I park my planetoid?

[RudyHuxtable]

We have beautiful, exotic, real live breathing women (yes, "they" are unimaginably immense), and for the rowdier, computer enthralled crowd there are femme-bots.

Maybe tomorrow morning I'll give you a written description of the Won-Ton Violence Take-Out Hut.

I'll give you a tid-bit:

Wrap-around bar with a fish-tank full of tropical, sub-tropical, and alien salt water fish. Complete with miniature treasure chest and gravel. Of course, the entire design is supported by grav fields so it floats.

[Strategia_In_Ultima]

heeheehee...

[General Woundwort]

The owner and patrons of the Won Ton are enjoying their cosmic cuisine and comic banter when the faux-Chinese muzak being played over the loudspeakers is rudely interrupted.

“Hey. Hey! What are you doing here?” a disembodied voice crackles over the loudspeaker. “This is a private studio! You must leav… AUUUGH! [THUNK]”

A pregnant silence permeates from the speakers for a few seconds. Suddenly, another song bursts forth from the ceiling. A strangely familiar one.

Right on cue, General Woundwort and Raging Deadstar step through the door, followed by a mass of pinstripe-suited goombahs, torpedoes, and goodfellas, many of them carrying oddly-shaped violin cases. A phalanx of Furio clones follows Woundwort and RD as they walk up to the main counter.

“Greetings, Mr. Huxtable. We are the duly designated representatives of Growltigger Enterprises, the sole owner and titleholder of entertainment establishments on these forums. You have opened a restaurant on Mr. Growltigger’s turf, without prior authorization or contractual agreement. We doubt very much that he will be pleased with this. Therefore, we are here to offer you… an arrangement.”

Woundwort pauses to light a Padron Anniversario cigar, then continues. “You are cordially invited (with full guarantee of amnesty and safe passage, of course) to come to the Forum Chat Bar and Grill, and negotiate a franchise agreement with Mr. Deadstar and myself. If, when Mr. Growltigger returns, we can offer him proof of your good intentions (and a generous cut of the profits), he may be less inclined to cut off your head, set fire to your body, and feed the charred remains to the Pak’ma’ra. I can guarantee you that you’ll find Deadstar and I much easier to deal with than the Boss.”

Woundwort places a data crystal on the counter, which upon later examination is found to contain rather graphic footage of Growltigger’s ‘hostile takeover’ of a prior competitor (rated ‘T’ for Teen).

“Hopefully that will convince you. Consider our offer well, and don’t take too much time in doing so. If the Great Kat comes back and finds you still doing unauthorized business on his turf… the personal consequences would be most… unfortunate.”

“Good day to you. We expect to see you soon.”

Woundwort and RD tip the rims of their fedoras in Rudy’s direction, and depart the Take Out Hut. The hordes of capos follow them out. The Sopranos theme song fades away, and the original disc jockey’s voice is heard again (somewhat less chipper, and in obvious need of some ibuprofen)…

“We now… groan…return you to our regularly scheduled muzak…”

[Jack Simth]

Star Death Drinks:
White Dwarf: Non-Alcholic, perfectly harmless; served cold. Otherwise known as water.
Nova: A bright, spiced yellow drink, small but powerful. Served hot.
Super Nova: A much bigger, bright, yellow drink, very alcholic. Served boiling.
Neutron Star: It's possible to remember starting and finishing this drink on the same day... but only just. Served cold. Attracts iron filings.
Black Hole: A black drink so named because the sheer amount of alchol ensures that nobody remembers finishing one if they take anything less than a day at it. Thermometers dissolve before a proper serving temperature can be taken.
Galactic Core: A very oversized Black Hole.

[RudyHuxtable]

All drink requests are honored at the Won-Ton, friends! Any concoction is capable of being produced by our experienced bartending staff (Bud and Nancy)!

New menu item:

Sub-Space Jello! In lime, cherry, peach, and strawberry. If you talk into it, others eating Sub-Space Jello can hear you! The true intergalactic cup n' string!

We also have live music every night, slide shows and a planetarium on Tuesdays, dancing in the rumba room nightly, and the multidimensional mathematics playground for people wanting to talk to their counterparts on other planes of existence. This is only the beginning of the entertainment.

The Won-Ton aims to please

-Rudy Huxtable,
Cosby Kid, Proprietor