Barry Sadler-a four-man combo from the Redondo/Manhattan Beach area. The customer-the singer-is one Milo, described in a press release as “skinny… with tense face and one hand gripping his pants leg.” The band is the Descendents-since Milo sounds like a drill sergeant, ancestors include not only Little Richard but, presumably, Sgt. “Would you like incomprehensible on that?” he asks (some people hear “bull sperm”). “May I take your order, please?” “Yeah,” answers the customer, “I want-” and suddenly a torrent of desire mixed with hysteria rises from his throat, gets caught somewhere in the esophagus, and then bursts free as unfettered Southern California hardcore: “TWO LARGE COKES! TWO LARGE FRIES! CHILE CHEESE DOG! LARGE DR PEPPER! SUPER DELUXE WITH CHEESE AND TOMATO!” The counterman ought to be hiding behind the soft-drink dispenser after this he hasn’t even blinked. Anarchy is where you find it: “Welcome to Der Wiener-schnitzel,” says a polite little counterman.
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