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Software Vault: The Gold Collection
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Software Vault - The Gold Collection (American Databankers) (1993).ISO
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1993-05-30
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John's Diner░░░░░░░░░░░░░Grocery Lists of the Gods░░░░░░░░░░By Michael Hahn
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The door to the Cecilio Zone opened in mid-air above the
Barca-lounger, and Lucia Chambers dropped out with a squeak. A
hefty knapsack plopped on the floor beside her, narrowly missing a
bewildered Al Ruffin.
"Geez, and I thought Kent's Place was weird," Al mumbled,
shaking his head. Lucia hauled herself out of the pile of
raingear in the chair, scooped up the knapsack, and made a beeline
for the counter.
"John!" she shouted excitedly, "Look what I found!" She
dumped the contents of the knapsack in front of her bemused
husband, who waved Michael Hahn over from a corner booth. All
three bent their heads over a pile of stone tablets.
"Cecilio showed me some old ruins behind his house, and I
found these. Won't they make great decorations?" Lucia bubbled.
Michael, poring over the tablets, smiled his peculiar little
smile. "They'd work better in the kitchen, Lucia. What you have
here is a cookbook."
"A cookbook?" John Chambers asked, suddenly interested. The
menu at John's Diner, eclectic though it was, had few new items.
Rack of lamb, chili, and grits can only go so far. John was in
search of new fare, and this might be the ticket.
Lucia was skeptical. "Since when can you read ancient
Sanskrit, or whatever those chicken-scratches are?"
Michael's smile broadened. "Didn't I mention? Between
math/physics and theatre arts, I tried archeology, computer
science, deaf education, and pre-theology." He gently brushed
debris from the carvings in the rocks. "And it's Lower Denairian,
not Sanskrit."
"Wait a minute, Lucia," John said, interrupting her rejoinder.
"Are these things really recipes?"
"That's what they look like. Hey, Dave!" Michael motioned
David Holloway to join them. "What would you say these are?"
"Hmmm," David murmured, "They look like parts of a cookbook."
"Humph," Lucia huffed, and disappeared into the kitchen. John
watched her go, shaking his head. "I guess we stole her knick-
knacks," he said. "Just tell me more about the recipes."
* * *
David, John, and Michael spent the next week translating the
tablets. Some of the recipes were a little . . . exotic.
Somehow, though, John managed to find all the ingredients. Well,
some of them were close substitutes. Early on a Saturday in July,
he and Shan O'Meara were tacking up notices in the neighborhood.
"Come one, come all! [the notices read] Special tonight at John's
Diner:
FOOD OF THE GODS
Ancient recipes from all over the world!!
All you can eat, only $9.95!!"
The advertising apparently worked, because that night the
Diner was full to overflowing. Jeff Epstein, dressed
inexplicably in a tuxedo, had brought the entire staff of the
Washington Post. Jane and Dave Winer, Maxine Urso, Debbie and
Michael Hahn, Zack and Cosmo--everybody who was anybody was there.
Bryan Dufelmeier flew in all the way from Springfield, Illinois.
The Freemans came up from Florida, dragging Clark Burner with
them. Kent and Tess Ballard arrived late, and loudly, in a custom
pickup truck. (The vanity license plate read "RW HONCHO".)
Cecilio Morales dropped from his phantom doorway at precisely
eight o'clock, three minutes after John, Shan, Raoul, and Lucia
began laying out the buffet. Soon the crowd began to eat . . .
and eat . . . and eat. Well into the night, the party continued.
* * *
It started with Lucia's piercing scream. Her hair had turned
a fascinating shade of green, fading at the roots to a light
maroon. Franchot Lewis' nose began to grow, then turned a bright
yellow; he looked like he had a banana growing out of his face.
All around the room, people were changing colors and growing
strange appendages. Steve Minton had not-so-inexplicably sprouted
feathers and a bill. Del Freeman developed a *real* turkey
wattle, while her husband Dave turned bright red. Fire-engine
red, the color of a Porsche. Karl Weiss was quietly spinning a
web next to the jukebox--with eight arms, the job was moving
apace. Larry Harrington had miraculously grown a long, white
beard, white hair, and a shiny red nose. When he laughed, his
belly shook like . . . never mind.
"JOHN!!!!" Lucia shrieked, "What have you done?!?"
"Oops," said a blue and furry Michael Hahn, in a very small
voice. "Uh, could I see those tablets again?"
* * *
It took two weeks, lots of smelly potions, and a witch doctor
from Namibia, but everyone was returned to normal.
Or at least what passes for normal at John's Diner.
-end-
Copyright (c) 1993 Michael Hahn