Great. I’m left to my own devices for 4 measly hours, and I managed to find a ghost cafe and eat haunted – likely poisonous – fish and chips. I couldn’t just go for the burger – no, I had to be adventurous and get the 7-Year Fish special, served with undead fries and Diet Coke of Lies. Not even the ketchup was safe: “Fancy Ketchup” appears to be American code for “tastes like red ass oh god get this out of my mouth I want my mommy”.
Ed and I parted company around noon because he wanted to watch men play Dungeons and Dragons and I .. did not. I sat on my rear for a bit, playing on my DS (don’t tell my iPhone) and stalking MC Frontalot, which i did successfully. I saw Scott Kurtz and Wil Wheaton, but am faaaaaar too cool to stand in line for autographs so I had dirty nerd thoughts from afar and went on my way. After my aforementioned haunted lunch, I spent some money and played my games and tried to count the nerds gawking at my tits. There weren’t many, and I don’t really blame them – sure, my rack is mighty, but dude there’s Portal 2 and Fallout: New Vegas and Little Big Planet 2 and and and. My boobs can’t compete with that, and I’m silly to have tried (but i sure am comfortable).
So, haunted lunch. I was famished and without an emergency pocket sandwich, so I stumbled upon a cafe with a relatively small line in a place where I swear no cafe was earlier. Still, I ignored the warning signs because i was too excited to see that the cafe had Diet Coke for not all my money – I waited in line and ordered.
My second clue that something was wrong came from the instantaneous fish n’ chips they gave me. See, everyone else had to wait 5 or 10 minutes for their food but mine was ready before I walked two feet to the condiment area. It seems my fish was destined for me, but had been awaiting my arrival in the deep fryer for 7 years – it was very overcooked and sad. I was too hungry to argue though, so I loaded myself up with tartar sauce (the scary kind that doesn’t require refrigeration) and horrible ketchup and crossed the huge empty room to sit on the floor. I settled in against a soft wall, tucked into my expensive and questionable convention lunch, and relaxed.
Until i looked up and saw nothing across the room.
No line of people. No cafe. No tables filled with lunching nerds. There was NOTHING across from me; nothing where, a few short minutes ago, I had stood in line with a few others to collect the goods I was presently chewing on.
Obviously, everything is haunted. My otherworldly theory only solidified when the contents of my stomach did the exact opposite a short time later. Man, all I want is one good uncursed meal. Is that so much to ask?