In the restaurant they order body juices from greedy holes

Excellent, okay.

What the fuck is the special sauce?

Oh, I'm sorry, can I help you?

Friday.

Hey, INS.

INS?

We filed already.

Oh, excuse me.

Scalopini pizza.

Three with the special sauce, okay.

The address?

Excellent.

What is this special sauce shit?

That's exactly what the INS wants to know.

I'm sorry, I don't get ya.

Does a Rosella Cacciatore work here?

Ah, yeah, well, she did,

but Cacciatore catched the plane outta here.

Oh, I see.

No, I hate it.

Sleazy, lowdown, greasy, son of a bitch.

Fucking eat your pizza, then leave your country,

take your family, hate!

Aliens!

Do that to you.

Yeah, so do I.

How so?

You better come clean, pepperoni man.

Rosella, she made good pizza, the best.

How so?

Oh, special sauce.

Special sauce?

Lettuce?

Cheese?

Pickles? Onions?

Sesame seed bun?

Close, but no pizza.

Excusez?

Yes.

What kind of bullshit language is that?

Are you an alien?

Hey, hey, hey, leave her alone.

Pizza, pizza, please.

You stay out of this, anchovy face!

This is an INS matter.

That's it.

I'm calling the cops.

I am the cops!

Well, then I'm calling a cab.

...