138 lines
7.4 KiB
Plaintext
138 lines
7.4 KiB
Plaintext
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### ###
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### ###
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### #### ### ### ### ####
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### ### ##### ### ###
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### ### ### ### ###
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### ### ##### ### ###
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########## ### ### ##########
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### ###
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### ###
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Underground eXperts United
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Presents...
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####### ## ## ####### # # ####### ####### ####
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## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ##
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#### ## ## #### # # ####### ####### ##
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## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ##
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## ## ####### ####### # # ####### ####### ######
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[ Kraykkono Inn ] [ By The GNN ]
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____________________________________________________________________
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____________________________________________________________________
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"KRAYKKONO INN"
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by THE GNN/DualCrew-Shining/uXu
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According to the fax we received, Mr. Maynard fancied fast cars, women and
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exotic food. We could not pick him up in a fast car, nor could we arrange
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any women for his pleasure. So I had to take him to the most exotic
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restaurant in this city, which would mean that I was forced to eat at the
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Kraykkono Inn. That place gave me the creeps. But since Mr. Maynard was a
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very important customer I had to put my personal considerations away for
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a few moments.
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I did, however, try to convince my boss that I was not the right person
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to take care of Mr. Maynard, due to the fact that I would be unable to
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concentrate on the contract if I had to be at the Kraykkono Inn. But he
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pretended that he did not hear me. Instead, he just gave me the keys to the
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company car and told me to pick up Mr. Maynard at the airport.
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Mr. Maynard was a man of few words. When I explained that I would take
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him to the exotic new place in town, he just nodded and said that it sounded
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like a good idea. While driving to Kraykkono, my mind kept telling me to
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come up with some kind of excuse for not going there. The food there would
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make me throw up, I was pretty sure of that. I have never had any big
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thoughts about refugees whom come to our country to steal our money; and now
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they had also opened restaurants everywhere. I could not believe how normal
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people managed to shuffle their lousy food down the wind pipe.
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The restaurant was crowded, believe it or not. We were shown to a table
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by some weird member of the staff. Of course, it was hard to understand what
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he said. I did my best to look satisfied with the dirty table. You never
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know, Mr. Maynard might had been one of those stupid people who actually
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fancied refugees - which meant that he might be annoyed if I complained. I
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am not a racist, I do not think we are some supreme race. I just do not like
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other races, what is wrong with that? They may do whatever they feel for. As
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long as they do not bother me. But the people at the Kraykono Inn really
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bothered me.
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We spoke about the deal for a few minutes. Mr. Maynard was not fully
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satisfied with some part of the contract. I did not actually know what part
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he referred to, since my mind was occupied with thoughts concerning the
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hellish food at this restaurant. My thoughts transformed into a living
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nightmare when I saw the waiter approach our table. Slowly, he walked
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towards us with an evil grin all over his dark face.
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"Wilcome to the Kraykkono Inn, gentemen. Wat would ye gentemen like
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tu eat," he asked.
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Mr. Maynard ordered something from the menu. I decided to simply order
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the same food since I could not force myself to think clearly right now.
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"Oh," said Mr. Maynard. "I see that you enjoy Bloody Bowels too?"
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"Yes," I lied. (Bloody Bowels?)
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Mr. Maynard returned to the discussion concerning the contract. I did
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not hear a word he said.
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A couple of minutes later, the waiter came back and placed two empty
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glasses on our table. Then he puked into both of them, coughed, and went back
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to the kitchen. I closed my eyes. When I looked again, I saw Mr. Maynard
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slowly gulp down the vomits of the waiter. Sweat began to emerge on my
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forehead.
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"Mmm, I love this," he said. "Very tasty."
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"Really?"
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I excused myself and went to the bathroom. I had to splash some cold
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water over my face. It did not help very much, since the walls in the dirty
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bathroom were covered with posters of the staff of the Kraykkono Inn. I
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just had to look at them to feel bad again.
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When I came back, Mr Maynard was busy cutting the head off a child.
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I sat down and stared at the corpse. Its eyes stared at me. Nausea
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overwhelmed me. I reached for a napkin and accidentally touched the hand of
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the dead child. A green fluid spurted from one of the fingers. I gasped in
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horror.
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Mr. Maynard laughed. "Nothing to worry about. It's just some kind of
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defense mechanism. I know it is dead, I killed it myself on this table."
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He placed the head in a special bucket by the table.
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"The waiter said that he thought he recognized you as a regular visitor,
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so he gave us the finest child available: his own son! His wife got it this
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morning! Isn't that nice?"
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Mr. Maynard cut open the stomach. He put his nose above the cut and
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sniffed. "Fresh." Then he began to fish up the red bowels.
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"May I serve you?" he asked.
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I cannot remember much of what happened next. I know I ate the bowels,
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and I believe that I also drank a few ounces vomits. When my senses
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returned, I saw Mr. Maynard pat himself on the belly.
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"Wonderful," he said. "This is what I call a fine meal."
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I nodded. Mr. Maynard suggested that we should cut off one of the three
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feet and have for dessert, but I kindly denied his proposal. Mr. Maynard
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decided to try the undeveloped sexual organ. Afterwards, he said that it
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tasted like crayfish.
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We talked about the contract for a while. Mr. Maynard had changed his
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mind. He did not want to change anything in the contract. In fact, he found
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the deal to be very satisfying. He also added that he would call my boss
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and ask him to take care of such a good salesman as me. When we had left
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the Kraykono Inn, he asked if I wanted to have a drink with him at the
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nearest bar. I said yes. Some alcohol, produced on planet Earth for a
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change, would be just fine.
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I had saved the deal, so the day was not that bad after all. But I
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swear, if Mr. Maynard had suggested that we should try some drink that those
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damn refugees from the inner domains of Mars had put together, I would have
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killed him on the spot. I have had enough of extra-terrestial cultures.
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//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
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Bring up some more ice-cream, and some of that stuff for pain.
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Best board for t-files in Europe: THE STASH +46-13-NUMBERININDEXFILE
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I'm your soul manager.
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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uXu #291 Underground eXperts United 1996 uXu #291
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Call ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT -> +31-77-547477
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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