Keith Moon is Murdered by Chinese Bastards

by Regis Boff

This Chinese meal might be famous, but I am not positive. So much other stuff is.
Out of a large bowl, Keith Moon picked two empty cookies. No fortune on a tiny slip of paper in either one. He refused to take a third. Nobody else had such a result, and he was soon dead. Kind of an Agatha Chang Christie moment I always felt, but we never notified the authorities.
The band, Genesis, had no such unfortunate signature meal. Chinese waiters have slower, hidden punishments for vegetarians. The group, my friends, would tiresomely interrogate about unrevealed ingredients. Of course, the mysterious is the foundation of Chinese cuisine.
Being interrogated by vegans is not something tolerated with much cloaked civility in Mandarin kingdoms. Vegetarians eat a lot of revengeful pee as a result. Urine, of course, is animal-based. Paradox, Asian style.
Lynyrd Skynyrd did not know China existed, let alone that they had restaurants.
In retrospect, this worked out well for those rock star murdering Chinese.
Had I suspected they had take-out on the plane, I would have come after them.

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