It was 1967; Max and Dylan were eating some cooked ravioli from just after heating it back up in the microwave. Max slurped up a piece of beef "SLURP!!"
"Ah! That was DELICIOUS!" Dylan exclaimed, drinking the broth from the bowl.
Max replied happily, "Who made this Ravioli?! It was AMAZING!!"
That was when everything went wrong. The Ravioli was Abriel's Ravioli.
Abriel then proceeded into the lunch room...
Max yelled out, "Hey Abriel! What's up?"
Abriel replied disastrously with, "Eh; the boss is an asshole, my swivel chair is really creeky, and I still have a few more pages of the report to come along. So not very well..."
Max came back, "That sucks."
Dylan added, "Yeah, Abriel. If I were you I would've just stuck a knife into my stomach and just cut out all of my intestines watching them spill out while drinking the blood of my fallen enemies and hear the despairs and bloodlust of their cries."
Abriel was scared... He looked into the fridge cautiously, scanning around the fridge - Abriel said, "Hey... Have you guys seen my Cooked Ravioli? My best friend made it for me before he died of AIDS. He told me to enjoy it while I had it. He was an excellent cook. If someone ate it..." Abriel hesitated, looking behind him at Max and Dylan with containers of Cooked Ravioli on the circular table, "You, You guys--YOU ATE MY FUCKING RAVIOLI?!? THAT MY BEST FRIE--"
Max then cut him off, "IT WAS GOOD!! OKAYYYY??"
Abriel furiously shouted for all of the coworkers to hear, "YOU MOTHERFUCKING SHITFLAILS ATE MY GODDAMN RAVIOLI?!? WHAT THE FUCK!?!" Abriel making a fist almost socking Dylan in the face, another coworkers bolted in and grabbed Abriel's hand, the coworker was the boss of the office.
"Abriel, leave. You're done for the night. Matter of fact... YOU'RE FIRED!!"
Abriel exclaimed, "Tch... Haha.... HAHA... HAHAHAHA!!! FOR IT IS I!"
Abriel ripped off a rubber mask, "I AM CHEF BOYARDEE!!! YOU WILL NEVER CATCH ME!!! I WILL COOK YOU ALL RAVIOLI--TO DEATH!!"
Dylan proceeded to interrupt, "That's, well! That's actually pleasant! Because I really enjoyed this Ravioli, Chef! You did an excellent job! Thank you for this meal."
Max added, "Yeah! Why don't you just make your own company and sell Chef Boyardee meals! Maybe like in, Umm... Like little cans!!"
Dylan exclaimed, "Oh! Yeah! You can sell them for around a dollar or so! So EVERYONE can enjoy them!"
Chef Boyardee admitted to the idea, he became his own company in the late 70's. Along with Max and Dylan, they grew up to be homeless psychopaths.
[ This story was a social experiment to see if you guys read it. Well, and if you're here. Then you've done your job. 😊]
