Welcome to Whistlin' Willy's. Y'all enjoying this pizza?
Look here, my good man, we've been waiting over 15 minutes for you to sing Happy Birthday to our son!
Unfortunately for you, we are both restaurant critics, and so is our son!
(gets an angry face) One-star!
Excuse me! Emergency! [Whistlin' Willy rushes over to see what's up] Over here! Emergency! I would like a table. Inside the area with all the little plastic balls please, and make it snappy I am a food critic for Yelp.
(finally seems to snap as he gets enraged) THAT DOES IT! I'VE HAD ENOUGH! All you Yelp reviewers, get the hell out of here! I don't care what happens to my business, I ain't kissing yo' asses no more! [moves the male food critic from the table to the double doors on his chair and throws him against the doors] Go on! Every Yelper get the FUCK out of here!!
Careful now, Bill. You don't want a one-star review.
(comes to him) YOU'RE NOT A FOOD CRITIC, DENNIS, YOU'RE A FUCKIN' MECHANIC! NOW, GET THE FUCK OUT!!! GO ON!! ALL YOU YELPING SONS OF BITCHES, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!! (Yelpers begin to stream out of the Whistlin' Willy's Restaurant]
You're gonna regret this, Whistlin' Willy. You can't treat Yelpers this way.
You get the f-- GET THE FUCK OUT!!! [kicks the male food critic in the ass for emphasis as the critic goes out the door. He slams the door shut. Gerald shows up a few seconds later.]
Well, good for you.
You too, son of a bitch!
WHOA! HEY! [Whistlin' Willy kicks him out too and slams the door]
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