"I think you may be getting a tad ahead of yourself, Goblin," Admin chuckled. "Slow down a moment. Your story has taken so many odd twists and turns that I have seen Tarantino flicks that made more chronological sense."
Goblin stopped to take a breath.
"First, as far as I know, there is no Castle Doom inside Francesco's Bistro," he motioned around them at the crowded tables which seated guests enjoying such delicacies as chicken marsala, tortellini in garlic sauce, and Spaghetti-O's. "Secondly, as I have been trying to tell you throughout your rant, your problem can easily be fixed if you would just show me your HijackThis log. Now, if you'll excuse me, this restaraunt is scheduled to explode in 30 seconds..."
Admin calmly stood up and walked for the exit. Goblin, dumbfounded, sat and thought about reformatting. As he is no longer important to our story, he, along with some of the finest authentic Italian cuisine to be found on the Eastern Coast of the United States (and a plateful of lukewarm Spaghetti O's), will be exploding shortly.
As he stepped outside Admin noted the presence of an elderly man nearby.
"You may not want to be standing there in about 20 seconds, unless you want to end up like one of Francesco's entrees." he said.
"And how do these entrees end up?" the oldtimer inquired.
Walking away Admin muttered, "Overcooked." Frightened, the old man hobbled as far from the bistro as he could. He had no more than crossed the street when the loudest sound he would ever hear assaulted his ears. Following this sound came a smell which could be politely described as the aroma of marinara sauce mixed with the odor of unhappy patrons who would have rather liked the air conditioning to be turned up.
The old man, whose name was Alexander, wondered by what providence his life had just been spared, who the mysterious stranger who had warned him was, and exactly where the he** he was going to eat lunch now.
Edited by Aushin, 24 September 2006 - 09:45 PM.