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|spud (profile) wrote, |
on 7-9-2002 at 6:04pm
|Current mood: wheee!
Music: queen - killer queen, on the radio
Subject: off to italy!
wow. that was fast. the conquistadors knew how to disapparate! amazing. i wanted them to teach me, but they said that apparating was unfit for lesser mortals. dissed, but not one to upset the higher mortals, i continued on. as we queued up in line to get the address of the fettucine, i noticed something peculiar. a strange man in dark glasses and a black trenchcoat sat down and began to read the paper, directly behind us. this was odd. he looked familiar. i knew i'd seen him somewhere before. maybe it was alec baldwin. or maybe it was alan rickman. hard to say. he had short stubble, like 10 o clock shadow, and medium length, jet black hair, though his beard had intermittent flecks of grey. i noted that his copy of the Colon Gazette was four days old. i had the feeling he was looking at me, but i couldn't tell with his dark sunshades on. his presence felt ominous.
we were next in line for the directory, and an attractive blonde clerk beckoned us forward. she looked to be early twenties, school age. she was very friendly, and had a perky, bubbly sort of demeanor. she struck me as the ditzy type, but was in fact extremely knowledgeable. she was also rather fluent in english, suggesting she was a transplant from the states, judging by her accent.
once we received our directions, we went straight about our buisness. one of the guys hailed a cab, and gave him mr. alfredo's address. the ride felt very quick. with so much to see, it was hard to believe i'd spent an hour in the cab. but then again, i'm kinda out of it most of the time.
as we walked up the stairs to the run down apartment building, i was very skeptical. perhaps our directions were wrong. but we found the apt. # and the door said "Alfredo, Fettucine - 413A 5th floor". so, we'd found the place. three rapt knocks found the reply of brisk footsteps. from the sound of his opening the door, there were about 4 locks. as the door opened, i was greeted by a shocking surprise. the man at the door was the one that i saw at the airport, reading the paper.
"Welcome, mr. ore ida and co. i've been awaiting you." he said, nonchelantly.
"but how did you know? you are fettucine alfredo, are you not?"
"wow. i was expecting a bit more of a resentful welcoming. no doubt, you knew our intentions?"
"yes, we are all equally shocked," said the conquistadors together.
he replied,"yes. you did plan on defeating me, by any means necessary. i respect that courage. in fact, if it weren't for that courage, you probably wouldn't still be around. you see, i am a feared man in these parts. i do not take things of this nature lightly. which is why i ask that you leave now, and give up your quest."
"she's as cold as ice!"
"oh. sorry, i'll turn off the radio, i forgot." said mr. alfredo.
i replied to his previous request. "mr. alfredo, surely you do not just expect us to just leave, with no booty to speak of."
"oh, of course not! you see, i have familial connections that are plaguing me. my brother, chicken alfredo, is....well, chicken. he can't hold his own against a cotton swab and a paper clip. it's very embarassing. in exchange for your survival, i would wish for you to exterminate my brother, in a quiet and anonymous fashion. if you don't , it would be most unfortunate to find the heads of all your closest loved ones sliced up, and sitting in a fry daddy at the foot of your bed on christmas morning."
"ooookay. yes, sure. we'll exterminate this pesky relative for you. thank you very much, for such an honoring opportunity mr. alfredo. we shall go do your bidding," i said.
"where exactly is this . . . chicken, sir," asked the lead conquistador.
"oh, he is in 397C. remember, keep this hush hush, got it?"
"yeah, okay. goodbye"
so on we went to apt 397C fourth floor. home of Alfredo, Chicken.
thinking on my toes, i said,"you - bust down the door, and you - stab his chicken with this giant fork, and you - help me smother him with the alfredo sauce."
"sounds like a plan."
so in we went, like stealth bombers, only armed with a vat of alfredo sauce and a giant fork.
needless to say, we came out the victors. although, the neighbors did come and say to turn down the infernal racket at one point, but aside from that it was as stealthy as ever. and let me say, it was delicious. so, until next time, i'm spud ore ida, and i'll say goodbye for my unnecessarily silent friends, the conquistadors, as well. goodbye! and remember, always take your food seriously. dining without passion, is like pasta without alfredo sauce.