I moseyed down to the olde saloon for a bowl of spaghetti. I was also meeting to discuss the package design for these films with a friend whose name I can never remember. As I entered, there were tables upturned, broken dishes everywhere and the piano was eerily silent. Suddenly, Gunfire! The ugly to-go guy was pointing a gun at me! Wait…not at me… Like a ghost, my friend with no name, brandishing a gun of his own, stepped through the entrance. Then from the kitchen, shuffling through the graveyard of dishes, coveting his own firearm, entered the head chef all in black. As I slinked down, my friend, in a three-way showdown, slowly lit a cigar. And music began to play.