Finally, a woman has agreed to go out with Ravioli.
They go to a restaurant.
Ravioli looks at the prices and orders two Margherita pizzas.
The waiter takes the order and leaves.
She starts talking about her job.
She’s a beautician. She had an argument with her coworker. According to her, it’s because the woman is jealous of her, and blah, blah, blah…
Ravioli looks at her, nodding every now and then, while occasionally glancing toward the kitchen.
The waiter comes out with different dishes, but they’re always for other customers.
The restaurant is packed, and the pizzas are taking forever.
She keeps talking, completely unaware that Ravioli’s eyelids are getting heavier and heavier.
Ravioli eventually collapses.
Then he opens his eyes with his head covered in Coca-Cola.
He looks at the empty chair across from him.
Two whole, lukewarm Margherita pizzas are sitting on the table, with the bill in the middle.
Ravioli
“Well… now I’ve got two pizzas… I guess that’s better.”