Saturday, August 6, 2016


This prompt was to write about a seven course meal  that gets increasingly worse. This story came out pretty crazy and was a lot of fun to write though I do think I stray a bit from the prompt at times but that's the way the process is supposed to go.  As you can tell by my writing I'm not a very serious writer at all. I mean really, just my picture on my blog proves that. That's a picture of me when I sharked myself during sharknado week. I thought it just went well with my blog and left it up. By the way. Always feel free to leave comments if you like. I hope you like this story.


As a werewolf that's died and gone to hell, it's hard to find descent place to eat. I mean there's really not much of a choice.
Either everything is too burnt or not done just right.
Myself. I like my steaks rare.
Bloody rare.
Pulsing with with blood.
That's the only way. Seriously, would you expect anything less from a dead werewolf?
Didn't think so.
I don't know how I came across this diner. I was just walking down Burnt Offering Ave when I saw it. It looked new which wasn't that uncommon. Even in hell new buildings show up from time to time.
I was told they're dead buildings. Buildings that had been confiscated by the bit guy, Satan, himself once the owner moved on. Usually, it happens during one of those exchange deals. I scratch your back, you scratch mine type of thing. In Satan's terms that means soul. Be surprised at how many people actually participate in his little program.
All of a sudden once their bus arrives here, they sit around and complain about how they'd been done wrong.
I'm like, hello people, did you not realize who you're dealing with here?
Seriously, you think Satan is going to tell you the truth?
I know I don't have room to talk but that's cause I'm a werewolf and werewolf's aren't exactly wanted in heaven. So, I can understand why I'm here.
I gotta another surprise for you too. You're never gonna guess this one.
What? You think you know?
I'll guarantee you don't.
What me to tell you?
I'm sitting across from Elvis Presley.
Yes, the king of rock himself.
I can't believe it. My mother always wondered it he really died that day the news said he did or was it all just an act. I remember watching him once on TV but I was really young when the whole thing went down.
Excuse me a second. The ghoul waiter is here. I still can't get over these guys.
He looks worse than a dead man walking.
He's got only the left half of his face remaining. Maggots are eating out the other half and are all in his eye sockets.
“Evening, Gentlemen. My name is Chester the Molester, What can I get for you two this evening?” Maggots fell from his tongue when he spoke and his had this way of licking his rotten lips after every sentence,
Elvis ordered the BBQ shredded woman with a side salad and I order the fillet-a-human with an intestinal side salad.
The Chester Ghoul smiled. “Any appetizers?”
Elvis thought the stuffed human skins were nice so he ordered a round of those.
“I'll take a plate of those delicious looking eyeballs.”
Ghoul licked his lips and more maggots fell onto our table, I brushed the squiggly squirmy things away.
“Sorry bout that. Can't quite help it you know.”
“I understand. Okay, gentlemen. Be back in a jiffy.”
“Thank ya. Thank ya very much.”
I love it when he says that. I so bad want to learn how but there's only one king.
Anyway, back to our Elvis conversation. Where were we?
That's right. We were talking about the whole Elvis thing and if his death was a fake, meaning, during that time.
I sipped my glass of blood and took a deep breath. “I have to ask you something.”
He held his hand up, wiggling his finger of diamond rings. “I know what your going to ask.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I'm sued to it. Been asked a million times. Gets quite old actually.”
There was an uncomfortable moment of silence as we stared at each other as I eagerly waited for his response. “My mother had always wondered about it and I promised I'd ask you if I ever met you.”
“I understand.”
Another uncomfortable moment of silence.
He sipped his wine and wiggled his fingers of rings,
The waiter brought over my steaming plate of eyeballs.
Maggots dripped from his lips as he sat the plate on the table. “Right out of the oven. Just be careful, they're really hot when you first bite into the.”
“Thank ya. Thank ya very much.”
“My pleasure. You're meals will be out shortly.”
I was shocked when Elvis stabbed one with his fork and popped it in his mouth.
“I never knew you ate things like that, Elvis.”
“There's a lot about me people don't know.” He stabbed another. “There's a lot about me people don't know.”
Yeah, like Elvis being cannibal. I never would've guessed Elvis had such deep never ending craving for human flesh. Made since why he chose to dine with me.
“But then there's the really big one.”
Now we're getting back on subject. “Like your death?” Figured I squeezed that in just in case we ran out of time. I'd hate to be sitting with the King, my one and probably only chance and ruin the opportunity of asking that question for my mother.
“That's one of the, One of many I hope.”
“So, I take it's not true?”
“Nope.” A thick white fluid oozed between his lips and down his chin.
“I didn't think so.”
“It was an overdose.”
“Oh, I see. Drugs?”
“Yeah, but not what people were thinking. I was having a hard time with my weight and it was really pulling me down. Women weren't looking at me with lust like they once were. My belly hanging over my gut wasn't helping the situation. I couldn't turn people on with the way I grind with the microphone not to mention my hips snap and crackled every time I tried to do my pelvis thing that I was so well known for. I was losing my ability to rouse the sexual passion of teenagers and that stuff he gave me was supposed to make me feel like I was in my twenties.”
“Instead it killed you?”
“Sped my life up about twenty years instead.”
The ghoul brought out our meals. Mine looked so delicious sitting there in a small pool of blood. And Elvis, well, he was still trying to stay as healthy as he could even though it was really too late for all that nonsense.
The steak screamed as I cut into it, so it was nice and quivering fresh. The only problem was it tasted bitter like a chopped up street walker. And eating a chopped up street walker was not a good idea not with all the diseases going around these days on earth.
“Ahhh. Waiter Ghoul.”
“Problem, Sir?”
“This human meat taste bitter.”
“I'm sorry to hear that, Sir.”
Moment of silence.
Then he said he'd go in the back and check with the cook. I'm not sure what he said but the cook charged out of the back swinging his knife like some kind of banshee. Blood dripping from his knife. “I'm gonna cut me somebody. I'm gonna cut me somebody.”
I couldn't believe it when I saw who the cook was.
You're not gonna either.
Elvis sure was shocked.
It was Charles Manson. And that is one guy who doesn't need an introduction. When Charles Manson says he's gonna cut him somebody. He's really gonna cut him somebody and it ain't gonna be pretty.
I looked at Elvis. “I didn't know Charles was dead.”
“Neither did I. Last I heard he was in prison saying how he's been set free and is a Christian now cause he found Jesus.”
“Well, I think he must've blown that opportunity.”
Seriously though. When those guys ever gonna learn they don't stand half a chance. It's over for them Just over. The only Big H they gonna see is the one down here.
“You think.”
Everybody scurried when Charles charged through swinging his knife yelling something about how he's gonna make the world right and a better place.
I was about to get all werewolf on him when Elvis punched him in the faced and knocked his butt out.
The entire diner clapped.
It was the most impressive punch I'd ever saw. “Dude. Mike Tyson can't even hit like that. That was awesome.”
'Thank ya. Thank ya very much.”
I felt for a pulse around Charles's neck and confirmed he in deed a goner.
Elvis stood up, did his hip grinding thing, though it wasn't like it used to be how my mother remembered it but I saw the old movies he'd made.
Elvis rewarded the diner with his 'Ya ain't nothin' but a hound dog song'
And I tore into the rest of my eyeballs. But I was in serious desperate need for some fresh human flesh.
But then wouldn't you know it.
The bells on the door clanged and in walked a beautiful woman. Young with a worried look on her face.
It was non other than Marilyn Monroe herself.
That's right. Marilyn Monroe, baby.
Now, she's way before my time too but everybody knows who she is.
“Marilyn Monroe?” I say, licking my lips and drooling.
After talking with her, apparently she'd been held up in purgatory the entire time and was now just recently released.
I thought wow. How lucky can you get to be in purgatory the this whole time and after all those years and now until recently check in to hell.
When did she die?
Hold on a second while I google that real fast. Geez it had to be a ways back for sure.
Okay, here we go. Here's a little something. August 5 1962, way before my time.
I guided her to our table. “Please. Sit here with Elvis and I. We'd love to have you for dinner?”
Then Elvis said. “Thank ya. Thank ya very much.”

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