To Speedy Cerviche, it smelled just like any other day at the Pizza Cat Restaurant. He was sitting at one of the booths, gnawing on a fishbone as he anxiously watched Francine take a particularly large order over the phone.
"Mreeeow," Speedy yawned. "Sure wish I was John Travolta in Pulp Fiction right about now – someone put a fucking bullet in my head already, fam."
"Thirty large pepperonis? Where's the party and why wasn't I invited?" Speedy could hear Francine say. "Apologies, sir, I didn't mean to make you feel indicted…"
"No worries, dearie," the hooded figure on the other end of the phone conversation (so that you can't recognize him) reassured her with an obviously made-up old lady voice. "Just make sure those pizzas make it to this dark alleyway in the bad part of town while they're still hot…kekeke."
"I hear you loud and clear – no need to plead!" Francine said cheerily. "Either you get your order while it's still hot, or your money back guaranteed!"
"Kekeke…my greatest adversaries provide such excellent customer service!"
Francine had her ear away from the phone during that part, so she remained oblivious to the nefarious machinations that were at play. "A large Pepsi, you said?"
"Y-y-yes…that is exactly right!"
"Boring, but it could be worse." Speedy turned his attention to the front register. "I could be running the register, or watching Manos Hand of Fate."
Polly Ester was talking a beaver who was treating his manager to lunch through the menu one listing at a time, as the latter could not seem to make up his mind.
"Okay, how about the pasta bowl?" Polly groaned audibly, her lack of formal customer service training shining through as she was being pushed to her limit. "It's got a lot of cheese and sometimes the noodles aren't submerged properly during the cooking process so they come out all hard and crunchy, but it's not the worst thing ever."
"A pasta bowl!" The beaver exclaimed. "Doesn't that sound delicious, sir?"
The middle-aged pig boss bore a stoic expression that was impossible to read, as he stroked his wart covered chin as though he were in a deep thought about the intricacies of a well prepared pasta bowl.
Polly rolled her eyes, sensing the growing irritation of the other customers waiting in line, and possessing a severe distaste for ass-kissing, ineffectual men besides. Fortunately for her, an unexpected hero fell down from the ceiling to occupy the other cash register!
"I've never been so happy to see a crow before in my life."
Bad Bird grinned, which made the flesh around his snake bites hurt like hell, thus causing him to frown. "Since it's the rush hour, I'll let that potentially racial remark slide even though it's the current year, and society dictates that I be offended by any and all mentions of race regardless of the context."
Polly Esther rolled her eyes. "Cut it out…and get these monkeys off my back!"
A pair of monkeys in the line most notable for their matching choice in footwear (Doc Martens) raised their hands.
"Excuse me, but did you just assume our species?"
The reformed evil henchman ninja crow wasted no further time with pointless trivialities. He tied a white bandana around his forehead as a sign that he meant business and declared loudly:
"Try our pasta bowl! Guaranteed to amaze with its artful combination of a truly sumptuous triad of cheeses: parmesan, cheddar, and mozzarella, and the best marinara sauce produced on-site using freshly grown tomatoes stolen from an unsuspecting neighbors backyard garden, encapsulated within a delectably crunchy garlic bread crust, baked to perfection by our unique but experienced chef, who dedicates every ounce of his soul to you with each and every dish he prepares..."
Bad Bird cleared his throat to suppress a smirk before finishing, as everyone in the restaurant looked on in awe.
"…especially when it comes to pasta bowls, a personal favorite of Chef Anchovy's."
The pig boss nodded approvingly. "Sounds exquisite! My associate here would like to order five!"
Polly and the restaurant patrons fell over like all anime characters and indeed real life human beings with a healthy respect for the time-honored classics such as Samurai Pizza Cats do, in response to a gag moment.
"Chef" Guido Anchovy was never fond of his new role in the restaurant to begin with, but a recent craze in New Tokyo for food not produced by advanced machinery and spat out unto a conveyor belt had forced the administration to make some changes. To that affect, he was particularly poor at preparing pasta bowls, which of course Bad Bird already knew hence the 'Bad' that still lingered in his name.
The majority of the new orders surging in, needless to say, were greatly influenced.
"Francine's been on the phone taking an order for like an hour and now I've got to make all these bread bowls?" Guido said, and sighed. "Cheese Louise!"
Francine could be heard rhyming her polite goodbyes before hanging the phone back on the receiver in the next room over.
Unaware of the pasta induced trauma Guido was suffering, she came into the kitchen, humming, with a bound scroll in hand.
"Polly, Bad Bird, I'll take the register because I need you both in the kitchen," Francine said calmly, and waited until they did so before letting the scroll come unbound and appropriately freaking out, "if this order's ever going to get finished, we'll all have to pitch in!"
Even Speedy couldn't manage to stay asleep through the cacophony that ensued. "Unnecessary, ill-fitting movie reference," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.