Reservoir Hogs: Phase I

God, Man, The Senses & Prince Albert

A typical Friday night for the Stag, Inc. from the West LA realm. The evening was ostensibly leading to a tear your hair out session in unified hunger from an early arrival via the salt mines. So, there were some suggestions made, activities unlike the rest of the world would gladly and proudly indulge in. Which is of course, an evening with the girlfriend cuddling up like boas, or maybe a few drinks and a brawl at the bar. Mind you, this is the tale of four geeks, who have a limited range of indulgent hobbies, dating not included. Too many downside consequences and a strict conservative background seems to be an appropriate reason. And why not? Cultures definitely determine how much of a monkey, each one is. We're the ripe banana is for the bold of heart type. Anyways, enough digression. You get the picture?

So, the suggestion. A dinner, to check out a new cuisine for some lost souls while discussing the perks of being visa cuffed engineers, architects and tentative plans to return home. Simple stuff. For the weak of heart. Kulin the disco' geek had made some violent yet positive comments about a restaurant that served Indonesian cuisine worthy of tastebuds tamed by Kings and nobility of machine washed lineage. That's when I rose to the occasion and suggested, "Why not, yeah?" And off we went, the four geeks with stomachs roaring so loud in unison, you'd think it was a man made thunderclap.

We arrived at 'Indo Cafe', a small yet, snug restaurant on National. The wait was for a couple of minutes while we stood around like a bunch of guys waiting for a table in a small snug restaurant serving Indonesian cuisine off National & Motor. Our turn to enter came and we rollicked and danced our way into the place confident that we'd be four well fed muppets, rocking bellies and all in approximately fifty to sixty minutes. Nothing could possibly go wrong now, could it? Wrong. What ensued was moments of sheer torture which any of us wouldn't even have the heart to think about, least of all subject our worst enemies to.

You have to understand that when God created man, he put the usual number of sensors in both sexes with a 'Kumbayah!' But at the very moment when the sensors relating to colorful circus-inspired procreation, food, sports and alcohol were being hardwired into the grey matter of man, His furry cat 'Frisky' darted across the desk, looking for its favorite U2 album. That distracted Him immensely and in attempt to shoo Frisky, He accidentally cranked up the sensitivity level knobs to full capacity.

Man arrived into this world with a clumsy thump and a silly grin. God had created a monster; actually a few of them. Monster One dangles aimlessly (as though, waiting for a bus) between the legs in the company of two hellspawns 'Tom' & 'Harry', while Monster Two rests inside man's incredibly aerodynamic belly. Everytime a whiff of good food wafted across the nostril area, or a beautiful, curvaceous creation of nature tottered across in tantalizing outfits, two of the respective sensors would go off like Air Raid sirens as if an entire Luftwaffe Squadron was rising on the horizon.


We were no different.