Below are excerpts from the Leisure Suit Larry Bedside Companion concerning the Rosella crossover.
Ch. 4 Edit
...I stumbled across the peppermint stick symbol of the airport barber. Yes, I know what you're going to say, dear diary: hadn't I been clipped enough. You're right, but long, yellow hair is just not me. I needed to do something about it and I needed to kill some time. Two dogs with one stone, so to speak.
The barber looked somewhat out of place wearing a medieval peasant dress in the tropics.
"Hi there, my princess. My name is Larry; Larry Laffer. What's your sign?"
"SIERRA ON-LINE." Her answer baffled me.
"My name is Rosella, how may I help you?"
Can you do anything about my hair? A little trim, perhaps? You can take a lot off the top if you like."
"I have just the thing for you. Just sit down and close your eyes. When you open them, you'll be a new man." Not again!
The good news was twofold: she had taken care of the yellow color, and I looked like Larry Laffer again. The bad news was, I looked like the old me--whatever she did, it cost me all my new hair. Instant time warp! I was not amused.
"I understand your problem," said Rosella. She handed me a small bottle of liquid. "Rub a little bit of this on your scalp every day for a month, and soon you will have a full head of hair again. It's not much, but a stud like you deserves it."
"Oh, and stay away from matches, and open fires when you're using it. It's very flammable."
I couldn't stay mad at the sweet girl for long, so I took the rejuvenator and left.
Ch 6 Edit
At last, we ended upon the back lot of a computer game factory in Oakhurst, California...The prop room was empty except for some random pieces of King's Quest scenery badly in need of paint, or better graphics. After that, we found ourselves floating in mid-air, prisoners of a malfunctioning Space Quest anti-gravity generator...
The last strange thing of that strangest of days was waiting for us in the next room. We had heard sounds coming from there and had hurried to them, anxious to discover their source and our whereabouts.
A camera was rolling when we entered the studio---which is what it was. They weren't shooting any nude love scenes, but there was an interesting looking girl trying to climb up the inside of a pair of whale tonsils, or something like that. An older, but equally lovely woman was directing the scene.
"Rosella," she'd urge, "Try and do it right this time. Show some real emotion, and get that gum out of your mouth. Stand by everybody. Here we go, take 27. Roll it!" It wasn't Hollywood, but it wasn't PBS either. It was show biz, and the glamour overwhelmed me.
Then I looked at the blond girl again. Didn't the director call her Rosella? Right down to the dress, she looked exactly like the barber named Rosella I had met in the South Pacific. When she talked back to her boss, I knew it was the same person. And the role she was playing had been completed years before I had met her several years before!
Patti and I had been time warped---or better!
A quick wrap is in order; Patti has decided that she knows a better use for the patented Larry Laffer fingers than typing away on a keyboard, dear diary. The older woman was one of the founders of the company and creative talent the equal of Patti or I---an awesome thought, for sure, but true. Roberta was simply amazed at our stories, disbelieving at first, but becoming convinced by the sheer galactic grandeur of it all.
"It doesn't really matter if I believe you or not," Ms. Williams finally concluded. "If you think you can turn those yarns I nto adventure games, then you've got jobs. Is it a deal? Can you deliver?"