(no subject)
The door opens, and a dark-skinned man in a "Jesus is my Homie" t-shirt walks in, pulling a curvaceous woman in a headscarf behind him.
"I heard about this place while I was in prison for towel-whipping that policeman. You'll love it, Maggie, it has the best Chinese food in all of -"
He stops speaking as he turns from the pretty woman he's towing by the hand and looks into the actual restaurant, the door still open. His swarthy face goes pale and he turns around and exits, shutting the door behind him with a very pronounced slam.
A second later, the door opens again, a different day this time, grey and pouring down rain, but still the same man, with a newspaper over his head and the same "Jesus is my Homie" t-shirt. He looks around, pales a little less, turns around again and slams the door behind him.
Repeat ad infinitum, until finally, on one bright, shining day, in a shirt that says "Female Body Inspector," Biff opens the door to Milliways, looks in, and sighs in defeat.
He turns around again, but doesn't close the door this time. Instead, he picks up a cinderblock, props the door open with it, stares for a moment to make sure it's not going to snap shut on him, then walks in, peering over his shoulder every other step to make sure the door's still open to New York.
"Okay, you got me back, but I'm not staying," he warns the bar, producing a handful of change from the pocket of his jeans. "One Scorpion Bowl and a burrito, and I promise to visit you more if you don't pull any 'bound' tricks on me. Work for you, sweetplanks?"
The giant girly drink appears, which isn't really a positive or negative indication of any certainty, but Biff takes it anyway because he likes his scorpion bowls like that.
"Thanks."
"I heard about this place while I was in prison for towel-whipping that policeman. You'll love it, Maggie, it has the best Chinese food in all of -"
He stops speaking as he turns from the pretty woman he's towing by the hand and looks into the actual restaurant, the door still open. His swarthy face goes pale and he turns around and exits, shutting the door behind him with a very pronounced slam.
A second later, the door opens again, a different day this time, grey and pouring down rain, but still the same man, with a newspaper over his head and the same "Jesus is my Homie" t-shirt. He looks around, pales a little less, turns around again and slams the door behind him.
Repeat ad infinitum, until finally, on one bright, shining day, in a shirt that says "Female Body Inspector," Biff opens the door to Milliways, looks in, and sighs in defeat.
He turns around again, but doesn't close the door this time. Instead, he picks up a cinderblock, props the door open with it, stares for a moment to make sure it's not going to snap shut on him, then walks in, peering over his shoulder every other step to make sure the door's still open to New York.
"Okay, you got me back, but I'm not staying," he warns the bar, producing a handful of change from the pocket of his jeans. "One Scorpion Bowl and a burrito, and I promise to visit you more if you don't pull any 'bound' tricks on me. Work for you, sweetplanks?"
The giant girly drink appears, which isn't really a positive or negative indication of any certainty, but Biff takes it anyway because he likes his scorpion bowls like that.
"Thanks."