Open
STATUS: OPEN
CHARACTER(S): Maurice "Bosco" Boscorelli
LOCATION: Cafe
SUMMARY: It is impossible to get a goddamn American cheeseburger these days.
WARNINGS: Swearing. And uh, yeah, that's it!
NOTES: \o/
This had to be a joke.
This had to be a really sick joke.
Bosco flipped the pages of the menu, determined to find something in it that wasn't foreign or fancy or in a language he didn't know a goddamn word of. More specifically he was looking for a nice simple American Cheeseburger. So far he was finding shit all. Sure, there were burgers. They had a Greek Burger, a Wild Duck Burger, a Crepe Burger (whatever the hell that was), and a fucking Canadian Lumberjack Burger. But did they have his goddamn American Cheeseburger?
No, they did not.
"This is fucking pathetic," he mumbled under his breath, tossing his menu on the table with a loud slapping sound and lifting his head in search of his waitress.
...
Naturally, she was nowhere to be found.
So he got up and made for the door because hell if he was going to eat somewhere that thought duck would be good in a burger and that the Canadians had more right to be on the menu than the Americans.
He stopped in the open doorway on his way out and glanced over his shoulder. The last word was definitely going to be his.
"This is a bunch of racist bullshit!" he yelled, loud enough that surely every passerby would think something questionable had actually happened.
And then he slammed the door and stood just outside the cafe wondering where the hell he was going to get his burger and fumed over the injustices he faced as a middle aged, white, American man.
CHARACTER(S): Maurice "Bosco" Boscorelli
LOCATION: Cafe
SUMMARY: It is impossible to get a goddamn American cheeseburger these days.
WARNINGS: Swearing. And uh, yeah, that's it!
NOTES: \o/
This had to be a joke.
This had to be a really sick joke.
Bosco flipped the pages of the menu, determined to find something in it that wasn't foreign or fancy or in a language he didn't know a goddamn word of. More specifically he was looking for a nice simple American Cheeseburger. So far he was finding shit all. Sure, there were burgers. They had a Greek Burger, a Wild Duck Burger, a Crepe Burger (whatever the hell that was), and a fucking Canadian Lumberjack Burger. But did they have his goddamn American Cheeseburger?
No, they did not.
"This is fucking pathetic," he mumbled under his breath, tossing his menu on the table with a loud slapping sound and lifting his head in search of his waitress.
...
Naturally, she was nowhere to be found.
So he got up and made for the door because hell if he was going to eat somewhere that thought duck would be good in a burger and that the Canadians had more right to be on the menu than the Americans.
He stopped in the open doorway on his way out and glanced over his shoulder. The last word was definitely going to be his.
"This is a bunch of racist bullshit!" he yelled, loud enough that surely every passerby would think something questionable had actually happened.
And then he slammed the door and stood just outside the cafe wondering where the hell he was going to get his burger and fumed over the injustices he faced as a middle aged, white, American man.