The Food Chain Gang

                                                       

While killing time in my room at the Palace of Imps between meals, I turned on the TV and found what appeared to be a local food show. Three cartoonized men in striped prison clothes being chased by a lion. The three cartoon characters now appear as real men, identified as Moe Hawksbreath, a man with a colourful collection of hair attempting architecture on his head, Suetonius “Sooty” Whiteman, who looked like Colonel Sanders if the Colonel had made his fortune selling Kentucky Fried Tofu, and Max Legroom, former Food Critic from a Big City, whose brain maintained big ripples in a small pond of knowledge.

The producer, identified as F-Stop Fitzgerald, introduced the first restaurant the Food Chain Gang would review. Dear Lederhosen, the first Korean-German restaurant in Vegas. How was it, F-Stop asked.

“I started out with the Gangham Style Schnitzel. It made me think I was riding a horse, and invading Poland,” commented Sooty.

“I had the Ludwig Van Bibimbap,” said Max. “It's still thundering on my palate.”

“I read on Yelp that it was originally called the Berlin Bibimbap during the soft opening. No one seemed to mind the wall between the vegetables and the rice, but the piece of beef in the shape of Hitler's mustache struck people as tacky, so they changed the name, “ Moe reported.

“Now its 2 pieces of beef, in the shape of Beethoven's eyebrows, supposedly,” added Legroom.

“What did you think of the Sweet and Sauerkraut?” asked Sooty.

“That was the North Korean dish, wasn't it?” asked Moe.

“ Actually it's a Chinese dish. But so is North Korea,” explained Max.

“Could you figure out what was in the Volksgook burger? It was fantastic, but they wouldn't tell me what kind of meat they used. And I'm a TV restaurant critic,” sniffed Whiteman.

“So overall, how would you rate Dear Lederhosen?” asked the producer.

“As Marilyn Monroe said to Jack Kennedy, 'Take your pants off, Mr. President.'” concluded Max Legroom, speaking for all the critics.

“Next up, Penguinpalooza. Was it really Krillicious?”asked the camera setting disguised as a human.

“I've never seen Arctic Char so charred,” Suetonius shuddered.

“I couldn't find a place in the hotel parking lot so I was late,” explained Max.

“No Legroom at the Inn?” asked Sooty.

“Penguins are too cute to eat. So why are they on the menu?” wondered Hawksbreath,

“I agree with the man with the parakeet landing zone on his head,” said the tofu torturer.

“You're not supposed to agree, you're supposed to argue. Earn your booze coupons,” said the irate producer.

“You were the only one of us with a weapon. You should have skewered the chef with your hair. Did you chicken out, bird brain?” Whiteman taunted Hawksbreath, his camera ready Kentucky fried fury sparked less by his chagrin at his fellow critic's faux pas than by the possibility of a smaller paycheck.

“At least I have a brain,” retorted Moe.

The sponsor, Lazarus of Las Vegas: Let us freeze you into Eternity, smiled avariciously.

“We have a question from the Live Chat Room. A. Cat wants to know if it's real penguin meat?” relays F-Stop.

“To paraphrase the famous New Yorker cartoon, on the internet, nobody knows you're a cat,” quotes Max, always happy to display his vast knowledge.

“Yes, real as death. Pulverized Penguin Pancreas no less. Who could make that up? You'd have to be a cat to eat it,” protests Sooty.

“So, summing up...” insisted F-Stop, trying to speed up the show and get to a bar.

“As Greta Garbo said to Jack Kennedy, 'Put your pants on, Mr. President,'” summed Max as the credits came up.