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…”
Re: The Won-Ton Violence Take-Out Hut
Linear Mode
