The Goblin Nation is awash in garlic butter and parmesan. Olive Garden franchises are sprouting like mushrooms after rain, from cave-side trattorias to underground grotto restaurants, and the logo and the endless basket have become symbols of goblin life.
"It's a match made in heaven," said Elder Gnarltooth over a plate of Fettuccine Alfredo. "Our love of carbs and their endless supply of breadsticks. A culinary symphony."
The Orthodox Pastafarians, the Flying Spaghetti Monster's faithful who stayed on Mudwick Isle when the Reformed broke away, have gone further and declared Darden CEO Rick Cardenas a saint for bringing unlimited breadsticks to the nation.
"He is a prophet, a visionary, a culinary messiah," proclaimed High Priest Gnarly, leading a congregation of pasta-loving goblins in a prayer of thanks, each holding a breadstick aloft like a candle.
Not everyone is pleased. "We're trading our culinary heritage for bland pasta and endless breadsticks," grumbled Gnarlguts, a goblin chef known for pungent stews and questionable hygiene. "Our ancestors ate roasted meats, fermented mushrooms and animal parts nobody could name. That's tradition."
GNN's economists predict a boom in Darden profits, garlic breath and carb-induced comas. Goblins are advised not to challenge each other to breadstick-eating contests, where competitors have been caught hiding breadsticks in their pockets, and in one case, their beard.
