Pineal Discharge

Short stories. Unrelated scenes of violence and bizarre vignettes.
Some(most) of these stories contain graphic violence,sexual content and drug use. Also , lots of fucking language and shit. So yeah , viewer discretion is advised? Not for children. Unless you're one of THOSE children.
Yeah , you know who you are.



16. Restaurant Reapers

An old story of mine.




The restaurant is bustling. Busy as an ant colony collecting the rotting meat off a poor traveler's corpse in the amazon. Incredibly busy. People everywhere. A family gathered together for a birthday party. Tiny hands rip and tear through brightly colored wrapping paper. Covered in epileptic ponies and closet homosexual cowboys. Orgy filled cartoon spaceships soaring through a blank paper universe. Some sports on the television in the bar area behind us. Suggestive tackling over an American football. skin tight outfits on the men and the women. The men grope and claw at each other for the ball. Sweat and masculine hormones raging. The women cheering and salivating over the hot greasy men. People sitting at the bar already too drunk to move. It's only 6:00 P.M. Slobbering over each sip with the precision of a butterfly sucking nectar out of a flower's vagina. I sit with my partner. She's new to the agency. I've been assigned as her "babysitter/mentor"    of sorts. I despise this position. I have too much responsibility. If she fucks up again it'll be on my head. I'll get in trouble. We've been sent to this food-eating-place by said agency to gather information...and kill the head chef. This restaurant is of a nostalgic quality. Reminds me of my childhood(or something). A painting hangs on the wall by the cash register. A road that winds into the distant jungle terrain. Filled with a fat old couple heading towards adventure. Hoping to reinvigorate the inner youngster. But sadly that inner youngster is long dead and will remain long dead. They will have to realize that the wisdom of aging will be their greatest asset on this trek into the jungle. That painting invigorates the imagination. A tall waiter/waitress of ambiguous gender and species approaches our table. He/she prepares to take the order of edibles. HERMAPHRODITE ALIEN WAITER: "May I suggest "the fresh catch(winking)." ME:"(winking back) Yes that'll be fine." My partner , she nods her head in agreement. Her voice box has been paralyzed until the end of the job.(All the agency members had to get through an assignment without the use of his or her voice when they first joined. We never got mentors in the old days though. Damn lucky kids.) Five minutes later , a different waiter comes back with our dish. Something's wrong. The herm's cover must have been blown. They don't suspect us though , 'cause they still gave us the information food.  "The fresh catch" is foul , putrid looking dish. The taste however is quite good(if you're not picky). Small , dark green , humanoid creatures that have been boiled like dumplings(the consistency is very similar)in the fetal position. Served with an assortment of leafy green vegetables. We eat this delicious meal and take in the facts. The information has been absorbed by our minds via "telepathic nutrients" in the creatures' flesh. As it is digested the info is imprinted into our minds. We stand and ready our weapons. I've got a smith and wesson model 659. She's got a glock 19. We stroll briskly through the air conditioned sting of the restaurant towards the kitchen. Meals being prepared at breakneck speed. Bells dinging , cooks shouting back and forth. It's no longer air conditioned and comfortable. Hot as the inside of a morbidly obese man's ass crack. Just as sweaty too. We hear whistling coming from the back of the kitchen. It's our up and coming victim. The fat fuck is carving up our informant. The hermaphrodite. Expertly inserting his blade into the soft , beautiful flesh. Oddly colored viscera spills from the large hole now punctured. As he jerks downward with the knife the muscle and skins splits in disharmonious asymmetry. Peeling apart like the thick skin of an orange or a grapefruit. He places the meat in a steaming  , stainless steel pot. Then he adds his special ingredient. Addictive crocodile jism. Tasty and habit forming. Provides a sudden burst of mental stimulation. Followed by a rush of hormones increasing one's libido ten fold. Often used by lonely guys looking to get lucky. Highly illegal nowadays. He puts large spoonfuls of the reptile sperm into the pot. The stuff glistens shiny and white in the fluorescent bulbs. We walk up behind him silently and take quick but careful aim. ME:"LONG LIVE THE AGENCY and DEATH TO THE SPREADERS OF SEXUAL FLUID!" The bullets penetrate his soft gelatinous body taking pieces of him across the room. They tear up his internal design. Neon glowing organs squirting out blood that resembles blue raspberry snow cone syrup. It collects in a puddle around his feet. His skin like cheap rice paper peels back and reveals his true nature. The exposed anatomy of this semen spreading chef in his last pathetic moments of life.     

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