You find yourself wandering down a cobblestone street in an unknown village, lined with shops of all sorts and styles. It would be quaint and inviting were it not for the fact that there are no people on the walkway and a storm brews on the horizon. Nobody is outside, and you wonder why. Perhaps the threatening weather is keeping everyone inside. A lonely wind moans forebodingly, blowing newspaper and other debris through the empty streets as the storm approaches. This is a strange place, you think. Why would you come here? In fact, you can’t even recall how you arrived or exactly where “here” is. Then it hits you – this must be a dream.
In the dream, you’ve noticed that you’re hungry and must address that incessant grumbling in your stomach. Someplace that serves food. Ahh, then you notice it. A neon sign in the window of a shop. It flashes on an off in a deep ruby red, illuminating the sidewalk in front of the shop in a rhythmic fashion. It beckons you. “Pizza”, the sign proclaims. Lunch, you consider.
You stumble into the bizarre pizza parlor, grateful to be out of the coming storm. The interior is dark and creepy in both atmosphere and clientele. Here, there are people, but not the sort you would want to associate with under normal circumstance. This is anything but normal. You try not to make eye contact with anyone, for fear of instigating any hostility. Instead, you focus on the surroundings with your head down and decide where to go. Some of the patrons aren’t even human. To your left, you notice what can only be described as a monster devouring a slice of pizza crawling with maggots. To your right, a one-eyed waitress serves a pie swarming with cockroaches to a man whose head smiles from the seat next to his body. All around you are inconceivable and horrific sites. This isn’t a dream, you realize, it’s a nightmare!
You see an empty place in the corner; it offers relative isolation from the other patrons. A plastic checkerboard tablecloth covers a round table, with an old Chianti bottle serving as a candlestick holder. From it, wax coats the glass surface in frozen rippling waves. You take a seat in an old aluminum and vinyl covered chair. The soft glow of the candlelight reveals eerie lunch specials. Thirteen toppings of terror come standard with the cheesy delight, including stories of:
• A memorial statue of a Civil War Colonel comes alive to seek revenge
• A baby is born with a strange disfigurement resembling a wolf each time the Canis Major constellation rises in the night sky
• An ancient order of monks guards a secret, which must be fed live prey.
It looks like your meal is going to be a feast of frights. You shiver as you reluctantly give the one-eyed waitress your order. “Bon Appétit!” she says with a mouthful of razor sharp teeth.