Tuesday, November 10

never try new things

i've never had much use for novelty or fads… when people get their dicks hard, or their orifices wet, or their whatevers whatever over some useless gadget, or suit of clothes, or pen, or pet, or ship, or person, or whatever-the-fuck… well… what i'd really like to do, is beat them stupid.


this, of course, is considered impolite in society. fortunately for me, i don't live in one. i live on a decrepit, rip-off, shitbox floating in orbit above an even worse planet… so society can go fuck itself… i have my own problems. i may have said this before.

this latest problem being the above maligned fads… the most recent one to sweep the station (you may remember the unitard epidemic) has to do with food. some fucking planet or other has this 'amazing food culture and zillion year history of blahblahblah something gay' and a genius on the ship here decided to import it… i'm still pissed off at cosmoose as he's taking for-fucking-ever to get his damn liver fattened up so we can eat his antlery self so i'm ready to get my food on… it's one of the few things that gives me pleasure.

unless it gives me diarrhea… or constipation… or heartburn.

so… word comes round to me via reliable old flapjack about this weird new restaurant… it's up on the fancy levels, so immediately i'm a bit hesitant… but being so disappointed with ol' antlers inability to die, i agree. besides, flaps is paying, even if he doesn't know it yet.

we ride the lifts up and get off in crazy town… so many tourists, hustlers, officers and detritus that it makes you want to cry. weaseling our way through the scum we find it… indecipherable language, strange looking alien server wenches… this does not bode well for your hero.

the centerpiece is this massive floating moebius strip shaped conveyor belt, upon which endlessly circle various plates of strange, gassy looking substances. a little portal just at the top of the strip, which opens up, sucks an old plate and drops a new plate every few seconds… at least this rip-off joint gives a fuck if the food is fresh…

unlike certain snacks at zargle's gargles…

yea zargle, you fucking swine, you fucking thief… i know where that food comes in from, you bastard… and the reason i was shitting for a fucking week is because your cheap ass thinks it's ok to raid hangar 23 for the unclaimed cargo…

fuck you.. that swag is mine to sell… not yours to steal.

anyway, the restaurant is full of people, none of whom seem to be eating… all they do is grab a plate, sniff at it, and put it back… fucking odd if you ask me.

fine… let's do this… flapjack is practically ejaculating in his already heavily soiled pantaloons… he is so easy to impress. we sit down at the hostess' behest… lo and behold who is sitting three seats away, but cute little galactopus girl. haven't seen her in a while…

we order a few dozen drinks, to take the edge off… you understand… new things are strange and terrible and require a serious whisky suit.

supposedly you take the dishes off this fucking conveyor belt, then eat them.

how you eat a plate full of gas is not within my sphere of knowledge… very little is, of late. plus the drinks are catching up to me… flapjack is already wasted and rearing to get eating… a big boy has a big appetite… fucking gordo.

so, we start grabbing dishes randomly off the conveyor belt. blue ones, purple ones, hazy ones, clear ones… all sorts of colors known and unknown to us… we just shove plates up to our mouth and mouth at them like some kind of brain-damaged fish, gulping at the air…

nothing doing… no flavor, no nothing… i feel a bit light-headed… but i chalk this up to the booze… i see cute little galactopus girl looking over my way… she is smiling… hoo-fucking-ray… maybe i'll finally break the dry spell…

then i look around some more… lots of people are looking at us.. straight at us.. in fact the whole fucking restaurant is gape-mouthed, wide-eyed and horrified at our behavior… fuck them, we're hungry… we've taken every color dish and nothing…

the staff is in a panic… they conclave… they discuss, pointing, laughing, crying at the two of us… we demand more drinks… they acquiesce… still hungry, now angry, we start grabbing dishes and smashing them on the floor… we're incensed… violent even. i jump on the moebius strip and take a shit… the restaurant is now in an uproar… people are running out, security has been called… flappy and i keep trying to taste the fucking food… i accidentally inhale some of it…

and here's where i figure we went wrong… you're supposed to sniff the food, not eat it…. that's where the flavor is…

it's a moot point now… security hauled us off to the brig… flappy has a hangover and only stops crying to throw up… i feel ok… the food was pretty good. but i think i might have blown it with cute little galactopus girl… i doubt she'll come to cosmoose's thing now…

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