Wouldn’t Eat Again

[This Story Contains Details on Substance-Induced Hallucinations, Which may be sensitive to some audiences. Also This is the first short story I’ve ever published, took me like 45 minutes]

Peter .T

1/5 Stars

Wouldn't Eat Again.

The experience I had at this place was one of the worst things I’ve ever had the displeasure to be apart of. First thing I noticed was one of those White Toyota Vans, the ones that people joke about being “Molester Vans”. Maybe it was just one of the workers van’s, or maybe that’s how they brought ingredients in; I’m not sure. I hop out my truck and made my way in, and immediately realized something was off of the place. It was dingy, run down, and for some reason smelled like nickels? The wallpaper was peeling and the nylon seats were picked apart, and for some had bites taken out of the yellow spongy foam on the inside. I kind of pushed the thought aside, I assumed maybe I was judging a book by its cover and maybe it was like one of those places that looked bad but was amazing. I sat at the counter and ordered something real simple: “One Club Sandwich, All The Fixings, and one Diet Coke.” The man took my order and It came out pretty quickly. I had high hopes, The Sandwich looked pretty good and smelled amazing. I ate it and let me just say, though what followed will haunt me for awhile, The Sandwich was good (It’s also the only reason I’m not trying to find a way to put a half star). After I finished, I felt satisfied. However, I did notice something a little off. I started getting a bad headache, not like a sinus headache, but like someone was squeezing my skull. I went to the bathroom to go and take some of my medicine (I don’t like taking medication in public), and when I went to get the pills from my bag, I couldn’t grab the zipper. Actually, I couldn’t grab the bag at all, because it wasn’t there anymore. I thought I was loosing my mind, “Didn’t I just have the bag? What’s going on?” I tried to leave the bathroom, but the door handle felt wet, and anytime I tried to grab it, it melted through my fingers. I started to feel extremely cold suddenly, and I started to panic. I went to the back, sitting down on the floor of the handicap stall. My whole world was spinning, and I felt like my stomach was gonna burst out my gut. I could feel the floor, it being wet with blood. Maybe I had cut myself? I’m not sure, but I do remember the sounds. I could hear this gurgling noise, like choking on water. Then, I heard the door of the men’s room open. I turned my head, and saw a pair of shoes. I tried to speak, but nothing came out when I tried. The figure walked to the door, and stopped. There was silence, and for a moment, I felt..really good. Like everything was good and perfect in the world, like I wasn't laying on the floor of a diner on the side of a Highway in the middle of nowhere, like the door didn’t start to shake violently. I turned my head, and realized The shoes were covered in some viscous liquid, like blood but if blood was like molasses. I don’t know why, but it sent my fight or flight into overdrive: I tried to get up get away, as I heard the worst screeching noises ever. I tried to crawl away, but no matter how hard I claws and grasped for an area to pull myself away, I could get a hold of anything. I could hear it speaking, but it’s words were garbled and I couldn’t make out what it was saying. Whatever it was saying, it wasn’t anything I wanted to stay to here. I finally got ahold of the toilet paper holder and pulled myself up, getting just high up to see The Man’s glowing red eyes. Next thing I remember is slipping and everything going black. I woke up 7 hours later in the ER of Shellbank Hospital. What I was told is I was found on the floor of the bathroom, the sink flowing onto the floor and a trucker kicking the door in after finding me on the floor. They had tested my blood and found out I had about The amount of a 1/2 inch by 1/2 blotters worth of LSD in me, whatever that means. What I was told later is that one of the restaurant’s chefs had a history of selling narcotics, and had accidentally gotten some of his “product” on his hands before going in to work. The restaurant fired the man and he’s currently waiting for his court date, but that is not the problem here. The problem is that They knew the man still sold drugs, yet didn’t fire him. The problem is that I still have nightmares about that man that stood outside the door of the stall. I don’t know why, he saved me from a bad trip, but he looked so demonic and eldritch, I couldn’t handle to look at him; I wasn't even able to shake his hand when he visited me later that night. Apparently around 4 or so Incident Reports had been filed about similar events: Some poor Busboy collapsing while picking up some trays, An Old Man saying he saw “El Diablo.” In the corner of the room, etc etc. I would advise everyone reading this to not come here, whether they repair their image or not, not if you value your health. The rest of this is for the owner. My Lawyer had advised to word this as respectfully as possible, so here it goes: I’ll see your ass you and your associates in court. You knew what he was doing, but kept him on anyway. I don’t know why, I don’t know if you were just lazy, or you got some sick enjoyment out of it, frankly I don’t care. However, I’m putting an end to this here and now. I pray you know God, cause theirs a special place in hell for people like you.