"It all started with Mikey," Gerald Swerner reported, Friday, from his dimly lit Alhambra home, "He was telling us about these stuffed mushrooms or something. This dish he got with his girlfriend's mom and his girlfriend."
"They are called 'Spanish Stuffed Mushrooms,'" Mikey D confirmed, nodding his head, sitting in his equally muddled den.
"Anyways," Gerald continued, "We were sitting around, doing some brew, when Gerald started talking about these mushrooms. It was Riley, Harshank, Meatstick and I. Anyways, he asked us if we'd ever been to a topless bar before. So, naturally, we started cracking up. Whaaaaaaa-tt? We asked."
The best friends are, of course, frequent strip club attendees and had, incidentally, just gotten back from Cat Land on Atlantic Boulevard-- where they saw, "serious bush." Mickey D shook his head, red-faced and laughing, correcting himself: "Tapas bar! Tapas bar!"
A few residual chuckles sounded, as well as some whistles and a moment of pro-longed, pure silence. It was then, Gerald reported, Meatstick put his beer down on the coffee table, looked up at his friends soberly, and asked: "What about that? What do you guys think about a topless tapas bar?"
Nervous laughter followed, as well as a few sideways glances, when Harshank finally broke in: "I think it sounds tits, man."
A flurry of brainstorming started then as the moderately smashed group of friends began outlining their corporate business model and sales pitch. "We all got to, you know, own it. All of us...like, what's it called, a 'co...co-comune," Meatstick motioned, standing up and pacing the room. "No one is boss. I hate bosses, man."
A series of "yeah's" and "hell yeah's" followed, as the group continually raised their glasses to their lips and consumed more alcohol. The exotic, vibrant flavors of Spanish cuisine combined with vibrant, exotic dancers and large breasts were a perfect, natural combination, Gerald reported, "at the time." Lovers of Spanish tapas like the famous Spanish omelette and goat cheese in marinara sauce could at once tap in to the vast and, the friends agreed, talented Alhambra topless culture while feeling right at home with a potato wedge in hand. Lovers of big boobs, girating buttocks, and coquettish 18+ girls could open themselves up to a new cultural experience through delicious, Spanish foodstuffs. In both instances, the combination would be, in theory, a "sensory experience second to none." They would be bringing two disparate yet similar-sounding worlds together.
"And then Mickey had this crazy idea that we could serve the food on the dancers. And that, that was like gangbusters at the time. We went nuts," Gerald shook his head, with a cluck of the tongue, "That was some pretty crazy shit."
The friends also outlined plans for renovating Old Man Benson's recently condemned ranch house on the edge of town, giving the friends a prime real estate location apart from the densely cluttered Atlantic Blvd. bars, as well as pondering the possibility of enlisting Harshank's sister, Karen, "a ten," as lead dance instructor.
All brainstorming suddenly ended for the night as Mickey D popped in Sublime's Forty Ounces to Freedom album and proceeded to mouth the lyrics to "Waiting for My Ruca" in its entire. Meatstick, Harshank, and Gerald woke up on the floor. As of the next morning and following day, none of the friends has mentioned it to the other.
"Fuck it," said Mikey D.
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