When You're Here, You're The Manson Family : Olive Garden Fan Fiction

Have you seen what this place names its food? It's unlimited INSANITY!

Sep 12, 2011 at 2:00pm | Leave a comment

I went to the Olive Garden today. Can I tell you something? They now serve something called a This:

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Eat Pray WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?  I am Under the Tuscan STUNNED.  The Frullatto! Who on earth is responsible for naming this? Who?

Are these the same people that tried to get us to call Pizza Hut "The Hut" back in aught seven? I just don't understand.

Let's suss it out. Here's how I imagine this pitch meeting going.

"I now call to order this Olive Garden meeting where we name things. Where is Craig?"

"Sir, Craig is in the meeting for seeing what kind of things we can stuff into chicken that we haven't already stuffed into chicken."

"Craig is doing the work of God... Has anybody mentioned gum? Have we tried stuffing chicken with gum?"

"We have a Pollo Orbitini in R&D."

"Good, tell them to try sun-drying the gum."

"We have sun-dried gum in the smoky Tuscan purrito."

"What is a purrito?"

"That is a Mexican inspired pizza burrito stuffed with gum."

"This meeting has gotten way off-topic. Sheila, where are we on the line of Perugian smoothies?"

"Excellent, sir. Wild Berry is testing particularly well in Umbrian mental hospitals and halfway houses. We just need a new name, because people associate Perugia with sex murder."

"Hmm. That is difficult. I like the element of edginess but not the murder per se. Can we incorporate blowjobs some how?"

"Certainly. What about frullatio?"

"Too literal! Is there any way to make people more uncomfortable when they hear it?"

"Frunnilingus? Fruitoris? Fru Fru Frudio?"

"We're getting warm! Maybe something that combines fruit with some colloquialism or association with slavery?"

"POM-istad?"

"Warmer..."

"Hmmm. How about a Frullato, sir?"

"I love it.  Write it on the back of a falcon in mustard, and send the falcon to Production. You know team, legend has it that at the time of his death, Nietzsche was so crazed from untreated syphillis that he spent his final moments weeping into the neck of a Piedmontese carriage horse. I don't know why I said that now, I just thought it was an inspirational story."

"Sir? We should break for lunch. We have that conference call on dessert osso bucco at 5 PM."

"At what PM? Please use the authentic Italian word for five."

"At V PM, sir. Sorry."

"Great. Let's order lunch. Somebody call The Hut. I just want this day to be over so I can pop a Fentanyl and watch SyFy."