Area 51

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
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A brand new popular restaurant opens up downtown with a theme and menu that's out of this world.

Submitted: June 08, 2017

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Content

Submitted: June 08, 2017

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My friend, Tom, really wanted to check out the new restaurant called Area 51. It was that place that just opened up downtown. Apparently it was an all alien themed joint which would explain the name. I didn't get why Tom was so excited, he'd never shown any interest in anything extra terrestrial before, but since we were such good friends, I went along with it. In all honesty, I was hoping they'd be overbooked, but of course, my luck doesn't work like that.

When we get there, the place doesn't look extraordinary; small place no bigger than a McDonald's, made of brick and metal, with a brilliant neon sign in blue, green, and deep purple. The large windows were tinted just enough so you couldn't catch a glimpse inside, nothing to prepare you for the weirdness waiting within. All the way over, Tom had been non-stop chatter about how psyched he was and, I didn't mind because he looked like a kid having the best Christmas in his life.

The floor was highly shiny black tile, the walls were metal and curved to resemble the inside of a spaceship. Pictures, Alien movie posters, and "real" newspaper clippings detailing U.F.O sightings decorated the walls. A large decorative U.F.O hangs in the center of the dining area. Several life size and life like statues were scattered throughout the room, their creepy visages made more unsettling in the dim lighting. The counter where you order was designed like a spaceship command center, complete with pressable buttons which flashed and talked. There was an alien themed arcade; full of kids laughing, screaming, techno music and the sound of blasters firing. A group of young boys were fighting over Spaceship Destroyer.

We chose a dark purple leather booth to wait for our food. That's the other thing, the names of the menu items. Things like Larvae Crunch Bites, Tentacle Pasta with Slime Sauce, Egg Soup served in a Pod bowl, Crater deep dish pizza with Alien's Eyes olives; you get the picture. Their drinks included the words Alien Slime or Terrestrial Blood in the title. At the table across from us, a Chinese couple shared a large plate of the Tentacle pasta; the noodles did look creepily like real tentacles, but smelled strongly of seafood.

Tom was looking around eagerly, his baby blue eyes drinking in every single detail with delight. We kept up a steady and easy stream of small talk. One of the boys in the arcade hit the high score on Spaceship Destroyer. Then our food came; delivered by a poor re-creation of Spock with a-not even kidding-Jedi lightsaber. Tom had chosen the Tentacle Pasta, I'd decided on the personal size of the Crater Deep Dish pizza, and we shared the Larvae Crunch Bites.

The tentacles were pale blue and looked sticky, covered in a dark lime green sauce. The pizza looked normal, except the olives had a squishy jellylike consistency, while the sauce was electric blue. The Larvae Crunch Bites had a golden and crunchy outside, with a gooey, thick, piping hot and royal purple filling. Besides the strange appearance and seafood smell, the food was rather good. During the meal, we fell into a discussion about the "Real" Area 51 and the possible aliens hidden there. Half an hour later we paid, and were still discussing aliens as we walked out the door. I wondered aloud,

'What do you suppose really happens with alien bodies, if they're ever found I mean.'

He joked, 'We probably just ate them, Darling.'

We continued on our way, planning a second visit later that week.

Meanwhile in the restaurant kitchen, a knock sounds at the back door. One of the cooks opens the heavy metal door to reveal two men in black suits climbing from an unmarked black van.

men said as more men in hazard suits emerge from the back of the van.

The hazard suited men carry a stretcher between them, a long, pale, three fingered arm hangs out from below the white sheet. One of the cooks points to a black and blue stained counter, then retrieves a large meat cleaver. Once their load was deposited, all the men climbed back into the van and sped off. The cook with the cleaver tears off the white sheet and raises the meat cleaver, bringing it down with a sickening, squelching crunch.

 

 

 

 

 

 



© Copyright 2017 C. A Sechler. All rights reserved.

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