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nut

I look up at the waiter, disgusted, and motion to my plate.

the waiter responds, “three leaves is a salad. if it was two, or one big one, it would just be a carb-friendly alternative to a hamburger bun.”

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nut

revelling in the good cheer from another successful year of business I wave my half eaten breadstick at the waitress, casting a bready spell to catch her attention, “refills for all of my hard workers, please!”

the waitress replies, “no.”

nut

opening a yugioh booster and cream of mushroom spills out, “hell yeah an ultra rare”

Stooge


nut posted:

opening a yugioh booster and cream of mushroom spills out, “hell yeah an ultra rare”

Stooge fucked around with this message at 12:17 on Jun 16, 2020



TODD BONZALEZ




the waiter places the bowl before me with a flourish. peering down, i see the soup fills exactly half the bowl. No, not the bottom half, but neatly bisected down the middle, the soup seemingly kept in place as if by an invisible wall. Sighing, I pick up the spoon. It, too, is neatly bisected through the middle, rendering it useless

nut

we space ourselves around the table, placing drink orders and tucking a bevy of napkins into our shirt collars. I smell the garlic of Caesar dressing and simmered tomato served onto the table. we stand, hovering over the seemingly infinite spread. the timer will start soon.

TODD BONZALEZ




the waiter feeds me my salad leaf by leaf, waiting until i have chewed and swallowed each before offering the next, as if i were some sort of goat. when he judges the limit is reached, he ceases

Stooge


Woe betide any hungover patron, desperate for salvation in the form of huge quantities of greasy food, that orders the garbage plate at this restaurant.



nut

at the actual Olive Garden, we are hired to stand in front of the lettuce plants all day, ensuring they do not grow too much

TODD BONZALEZ




rubbing the dust from my eyes, sweat beading my beard and salty on my lips, I face my opponent across the arena. we have finished our mains, and now but a single portion remains in the centre of the ampitheatre. Jeering and hooting from the spectators, and a booming voice announces 'Only one portion of breadsticks and dip per Tuesday Meal for Two Lunchtime Special Offer. To the victor go the spoils, now one will eat...the other must die!' adjusting my tie, i heft my gladius and hide shield

TODD BONZALEZ




no im sorry, you've delivered too much soup. i can only accept half this delivery. i don't give a gently caress what you do with it, take it back or dump it in a field or whatvever. look just take it away, get out of my sight.

nut

we draw soup ingredients from a bag, one per customer. I grimace over my plate of hot water, cringing at the mouth sounds of Todd biting into his bowl of onions

TODD BONZALEZ




loitering furtively outside the restaurants, the soup gougers. one of them pulls open his long trenchcoat as I pass, displaying inviting bags of illicit soup

Escape From Noise

The waiter silently, but with purpose, places a mug of hot water, a ketchup packet, and a teaspoon in front of me before nodding curtly and walking briskly away.

google THIS

Olive Garden, Olive Garden
Never before has a patron wanted more
Olive Garden, Olive Garden
He won't ask for more when he knows what's in store
There's a dark, thin winding stairway without any banister
Which we'll throw him down
And feed him the cockroaches served in a canister

Olive Garden, Olive Garden
What will he do when he's turned black and blue
He will rue the day he came to Ol-ive Garden!


It's a weird commercial but I've gotta say, the tune is catchy

Slumpy
a group near us draws spaghetti strands to see who will get to clean out the soda vending machine out front.

that spaghetti was mine. i am left with no food. the person who draws the longest spaghetti will especially eat well tonight, compared to those who drew smaller strands of my spgahetti meal

slumpy

Slumpy
the victor gives the equivalence of a cheer, crunching into the uncooked noodle.


i wonder why i came here. the bill is 17.43. i pay it and i leave.

i'll be back next wednesday for pasgehtti day

slumpy

TODD BONZALEZ




There were vast herds, once. The migration was breathtaking to behold, the plains filled as far as the eye could see with great salad beasts, thundering and lowing with vegetable strength as they surged. Murmurating flocks of countless soup birds wheeled and soared overhead. Then the hunters came, with their cold eyes and their colder weapons, slaughtering the creatures without mercy, beyond what their numbers could do to recover. Teams of men sang, stripping the leaves from the carcasses, pressing the valuable olive oils into drums, stony to the bleating of the orphaned salad young. Cruel nets were filled with to teeming with trusting birds, whom they pulverised. The people of the frontier towns feasted, ignorant to the upsetting of nature's balance, new buildings sprawling ever outwards in the boom as though the structures themselves grew fat on the harvest. For a year, two, ten. The trappers' harvest grew smaller with each passing hunting season, forcing them ever further and for increasingly meagre prey. A catastrophic population collapse, from which the bewildered and desperate creatures would never recover. One year soon, there would be no harvest.

Watching the hunters return, the sullen party dragging a pitiful singular wagon half full with scraps of iceberg lettuce and rocket, the Olive Garden manager rolled his eyes and quickly scrawled a sign in felt tip on a loose leaf of paper before taping it to the glass door: "one (1) plate of salad or one (1) bowl of soup per order, thank you!!!"

TODD BONZALEZ




Another motion outside caught his eye. The miners were returning, caked in crumbs. A dark cloud over their faces, they pulled no wagon at all. The breadstick veins had finally been exhausted

City of Glompton

since the private equity firm buyout, these soup, salad and breadsticks are available online only


thank you PSP for the beautiful spring sig

Pot Smoke Phoenix



Smoke 'em if you gottem!
Welcome to Olive Garden, where we treat you like family. You know, the people you can't stand to be around during the holidays? Yeah- we're gonna treat you like that. Maybe even give you some custom cement shoes, if you know what I mean (and the whites around your eyes tells me you DO know what I mean)

FutonForensic

the fans demanded, and we listened. never again will you be tormented by the endless onslaught of bread


Escape From Noise

I glanced up nervously from my sad pile of lettuce with a single tomato, mounted with a partial crank of parmesan. The half filled bowl of bisque already cooling next to a plate holding a battered, stale bread stick. My eyes wandered towards the salad bar before I locked eyes with one of the Olive Gaurds, set deeply in a tactical helmet. Without breaking his gaze he raised his AR-15 and motioned it at me. The message was clear. I dropped my gaze back towards the table. It wasn't worth it. Not today.

Escape From Noise fucked around with this message at 16:57 on Jun 16, 2020

Manifisto


furiously cramming as much bread as possible into my mouth before the timer goes off and it turns back into twigs


ty nesamdoom!

TODD BONZALEZ




are the breadsticks few, or are they huge and very far away? i crawl towards them, reaching, but can never touch

Finger Prince


Technically there's a limit, I mean there's only so many breadsticks we can store on site, but good luck ever reaching it.

Manifisto


this is four dimensional soup, because it exists in time. you may eat any three dimensions.


ty nesamdoom!

Manifisto


sop
sald
breadsti

Pahilla the Hun

Thinking about making a post

Think about it, make a post



a single olive is placed before me. a young lady in a vest holds up a wooden cheese grinder.

i nod.

she twists it, once, and dust comes out.

i tell my mom we should have gone to taco bell and throw my half-napkin in her face


thanks nesamdoom!!


pizzaz plarpin perfect! thanks Tebulot!

nut

City of Glompton posted:

since the private equity firm buyout, these soup, salad and breadsticks are available online only

Areola Grande

it's a free country u pervs

Manifisto posted:

sop
sald
breadsti





spring sigs by nesamdoom and Ravenous Scoot

Areola Grande

it's a free country u pervs

Pahilla the Hun posted:

a single olive is placed before me. a young lady in a vest holds up a wooden cheese grinder.

i nod.

she twists it, once, and dust comes out.

i tell my mom we should have gone to taco bell and throw my half-napkin in her face





spring sigs by nesamdoom and Ravenous Scoot

Escape From Noise

Waiter: You're holding a dessert, bringing your fork across the plate when...

Me: Is this the order?

Waiter: Yes. You're in a dessert, moving your fork onto the plate when all of a sudden you look down and see a...

Me: What one?

Waiter: What?

Me: What dessert?

Waiter: Doesn't make any difference what dessert... You didn't order one.

Me: But how come I'd have one?

Waiter: Maybe you're fed up, maybe you want to fill that hole with food...who knows. So you look down and see a bowl of breadsticks. It's coming toward you...

Me: A breadstick. What's that?

Waiter: Know what a baguette is?

Me: Of course.

Waiter: Same thing.

Me: I've never seen a baguette. 
But I understand what you mean.

Waiter: You reach down and flip the breadsticks over onto the table.

Me: You make up these questions, or do they write 'em down for you?

Waiter: The breadsticks lay on the table, their delicious herbs and oils oozing out onto the table, shaking the bowl trying to turn themselves over. But they can't. Not without your help. But you're not helping.

Me: Whatya means, I'm not helping?

Waiter: I mean you're not helping! Why is that?

Waiter: They're just questions. In answer to your query, they're written down for me. It's a test designed to provoke a hunger response.

Waiter: Shall we continue?

Waiter: Describe in single words. Only the good things that come to your mind. About your mother.

Me: My mother... I'll tell you about my mother.

Waiter: Listen, buddy! We have a little saying here at Olive Garden: When you're here you're family! So don't you dare speak ill of my mother in front of me!

Escape From Noise fucked around with this message at 18:03 on Jun 16, 2020

TODD BONZALEZ




"would you like to play a birthday game?" A chorus of YES from the excited children, beaming in their party hats. The eight children encircle the seven chairs. On each chair, a bowl of salad. Smiling, the waitress reaches over to the tape deck, presses play, and the music begins

Sham bam bamina!

ƨtupid cat
trying to think of a good silicon valley stack ranking joke

Manifisto


SweetWillyRollbar posted:

Waiter: You're holding a dessert, bringing your fork across the plate when...

Me: Is this the order?

Waiter: Yes. You're in a dessert, moving your fork onto the plate when all of a sudden you look down and see a...

Me: What one?

Waiter: What?

Me: What dessert?

Waiter: Doesn't make any difference what dessert... You didn't order one.

Me: But how come I'd have one?

Waiter: Maybe you're fed up, maybe you want to fill that hole with food...who knows. So you look down and see a bowl of breadsticks. It's coming toward you...

Me: A breadstick. What's that?

Waiter: Know what a baguette is?

Me: Of course.

Waiter: Same thing.

Me: I've never seen a baguette. 
But I understand what you mean.

Waiter: You reach down and flip the breadsticks over onto the table.

Me: You make up these questions, or do they write 'em down for you?

Waiter: The breadsticks lay on the table, their delicious herbs and oils oozing out onto the table, shaking the bowl trying to turn themselves over. But they can't. Not without your help. But you're not helping.

Me: Whatya means, I'm not helping?

Waiter: I mean you're not helping! Why is that?

Waiter: They're just questions. In answer to your query, they're written down for me. It's a test designed to provoke a hunger response.

Waiter: Shall we continue?

Waiter: Describe in single words. Only the good things that come to your mind. About your mother.

Me: My mother... I'll tell you about my mother.

Waiter: Listen, buddy! We have a little saying here at Olive Garden: When you're here you're family! So don't you dare speak ill of my mother in front of me!

all those infinite breadsticks lost, like tears in rain

Khanstant
*bites off the ends of the breadstick and starts drinking italian dressing with it like a straw*

Khanstant
*looks my date in her eye*

here's a preview for later tonight ;)

*insert whole breadstick into throat and crush it up by flexing my neck and throat*

*pulls out breadstick, still whole, just lightly compressed and glistening from my inside wetness*

magic cactus

We lied. We are not at war. There is no enemy. This is a rescue operation.

SweetWillyRollbar posted:

Waiter: You're holding a dessert, bringing your fork across the plate when...

Me: Is this the order?

Waiter: Yes. You're in a dessert, moving your fork onto the plate when all of a sudden you look down and see a...

Me: What one?

Waiter: What?

Me: What dessert?

Waiter: Doesn't make any difference what dessert... You didn't order one.

Me: But how come I'd have one?

Waiter: Maybe you're fed up, maybe you want to fill that hole with food...who knows. So you look down and see a bowl of breadsticks. It's coming toward you...

Me: A breadstick. What's that?

Waiter: Know what a baguette is?

Me: Of course.

Waiter: Same thing.

Me: I've never seen a baguette. 
But I understand what you mean.

Waiter: You reach down and flip the breadsticks over onto the table.

Me: You make up these questions, or do they write 'em down for you?

Waiter: The breadsticks lay on the table, their delicious herbs and oils oozing out onto the table, shaking the bowl trying to turn themselves over. But they can't. Not without your help. But you're not helping.

Me: Whatya means, I'm not helping?

Waiter: I mean you're not helping! Why is that?

Waiter: They're just questions. In answer to your query, they're written down for me. It's a test designed to provoke a hunger response.

Waiter: Shall we continue?

Waiter: Describe in single words. Only the good things that come to your mind. About your mother.

Me: My mother... I'll tell you about my mother.

Waiter: Listen, buddy! We have a little saying here at Olive Garden: When you're here you're family! So don't you dare speak ill of my mother in front of me!



Thanks to Saoshyant for the amazing spring '23 sig!

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nut

biting into the breadstick to reach the molten core of minestrone, in the old country we call it the gentleman’s gogurt

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