Every restaurant that sells goofy Green Man pancakes also sells regular pancakes. But you didn't order the fucking plain buttermilk short stack, now did you?

You, the gangster, just wanted a little light-hearted fun in your otherwise violent and stressful life, but Denny's is all "no you have to be serious" even though it is 7 am, you have a fucking hangover, you're plotting a dude's death, and when you're eating at a fucking Denny's you've waived all rights to even the slightest shred of human dignity before you even order the Clownstack Pancake Party (tm).

Maybe the gangsters ordered the face-cakes because they resembled the man they were about to kill, or men who they had already killed.

Maybe the secret to their strength is that they consume destroy their fear and disgust of death by destroying the delicious faces.

Or, quite possibly, they're being monitored by the feds, and the pancakes are a secret code. "If I order the Banana-Berry Whirl (tm), that means the coke is hidden inside of the 95 miata down at Brucie's junk yard."

The loud conversation about murdering a guy is just to throw the feds off the trail, you see.

They're not very good gansters.

"Thisa restauranta, the pancakesa they not so gooda with the gomba faces, but theya madea by my daughtera and she has thea scoliosisa so we pretenda.

And ifa Denny's a thinka theya coming downa intoa mya neighbourhoodi witha theira fancy business mana pancakesa theya gonna finda outa thata you don't a messa witha la mia famiglia."

"Jesus, Larry, you were born in Albany."

Fucking magnificent.

Those pancakes are just an excuse to kill anyone who snickers, that bastard is as blood thirsty as they come.

Oddly, I was actually very impressed with the cinematography.