Estomago Page #6

Today is Monday

and the restaurant is closed.

Really? Take your chance then.

You shouldn't miss opportunity.

Didn't I tell you that

his cooking is amazing?

It's good or what?

It's getting better.

I'm your fan, dude.

That's a cool tattoo.

I've got one too.

It's pretty, colorful.

Where did you get it done?

Here in town.

This star is for talent.

The other one is for my mum.

This crazy bird means courage.

Every kitchen worker has

a tattoo.

From the chef to the assistant.

It means respect.

I've also got this one.

I made it myself in prison

with ink and a pair of compasses.

--What about those three crosses?

--These are the 3 cops I killed.

Swallow it!

Give it to me, damn it!

There you go!

Move! Move! Move!

Move, 'cos the guy's enjoying it.

Go Big Walt!

You move like a turtle!

Come on! Hold it!

--Here's the pork!

--Yummy!

The knife!

--Come on, where to start?

--Here.

--I'm full.

--You'll be fine.

Cheers!

The cops came out of nowhere

shooting on everyone.

How so?

I don't know. Someone must have

snitched on us.

Don't you ever stop?

Slow down, man.

You eat too much!

You're gonna get sick.

Isn't delicious?

Isn't it special?

Yes, it's very special.

He's good at it.

Rosemary, you're the man.

Hey Rosemary, don't you have

some beans to go with it?

Sure thing, boss. I made them

just for you.

--I knew you'd want some.

--Go get it.

I told you he was

an awesome cook.

You trained him well.

He knows I gotta eat my beans,

otherwise I don't feel full.

--You don't?

--Nope.

Good boy!

Your Majesty.

Hey Rosemary, why do you bring

one dish at a time, man?

Why don't you bring them all

and sit your ass down?

Because you can't mix it all

in one plate.

You must savor the flavors.

One at a time.

You must taste each ingredient,

everything...

Why? It'll all end up

in my stomach, right?

They'll get mixed up once inside.

But you don't eat sh*t just

because food turns into sh*t.

Does anyone eat sh*t here?

I never did, but..

I made a loser eat some.

That's so gross! I'm eating here!

--Shut up!

--Wait!

Did he say it was good?

Or what did it taste like?

He didn't say it was good,

but it gave him a bad breath.

He'd got some shitty breath.

I don't get doctors at all,

you know.

You got fever,

your stomach is messed up...

and they say:
it's a virus.

If you got a soar throat,

it's a virus.

If you have a dry cough

and red eyes:
it's a virus!

They spend 200 years studying

the dead and healthy people...

and every disease is caused by

a virus?

It's fine with me.

The docs saw Bujiu fat, bluish

and bloated...

I thought they'd say

it was a virus.

But no... "Indigestion".

That's what they said.

So apparently you can die

from it.

I thought he died from the poison

I put into his beans.

What can we do? One dies,

others take his bed.

Who's gonna have the guts

to mess with me now?

Etcetera says:
"Make me

some meat, Rosemary.

What's on the menu today,

Rosemary?"

No one will mess with me.

I wonder how Etcetera's

bed is like.

Word is he has a cell

for himself.

For himself...

Maybe I'll make him some fancy

food like pasta "puttanesca".

He's gonna like the name.

I could ask the guard to get me

that Italian wine... Sassicaia.

Tomorrow I'll have him

look for it.

I'll ask for a woman too.

It's been nearly a year

that I haven't got one...

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