THE DINER

NEVER EAT FOOD AT A LONELY DINER, OR YOU MAY END UP AS A DINER'S DINNER...!

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AA

4. SAUSAGE AND MASH

The Owner of the Diner nodded his head in satisfaction as he stared down at the inert Patersons'. Callously - and one at a time, he dragged and bumped the unconscious family down the stairs and into the cellar. Wearing a rubber apron, he first stripped Abby; laid her out onto a wooden blood soaked butchers block; tied her ankles together, and the hung her upside down on a hook attached to a ceiling beam. Placing a bucket beneath Abby's dangling head, he sliced her throat with a paring knife. Waiting until most of the blood had drained out of her body into the bucket, he lifted her down off the hook and chucked her corpse onto the block. Picking up his butchers saw, he proceeded to cut her body up into several small pieces. He did this with the rest of the family in turn. Then, having expertly removed all the flesh from their bones with a razor sharp boning knife, he piled up the Patersons' meaty remains next to a mincing machine; dropped handfuls of flesh into it, and began the mincing process. Once this task was completed, the Owner stuffed the blooded mince into two buckets and carried them across to another specialised machine, where he began tthe macarbre process of turning the mince into his ... 'well flavoured sausages'. String after string emerged from the pipe at the other end, until every last scrap of the mince was used up. Afterwards, he he chopped up the bones with a meat cleaver, and threw them along with the family's heads and entrails into a large vat. Removing the blood stained rubber apron he muttered...

      'Oh yes, ev'rybody loves my sausages, and my darling piggy's just can't get enuff of the kitchen waste. Pigs of ages cleft fer me, let me hide their bits in thee, he sang as he ascended the stairs out of the cellar to begin frying the fresh sausages for the airmen.

 

The AA driver, having discovered the Patersons' empty car that same night, called the police, and a massive search was instituted, but without success.

      'Why here sergeant...? Why do people alwways seem to abandon their cars in this god forsaken place? This is the third one in the last six months and none of the victims have ever been seen again! What the devil is going on? Any theories sergeant, you've got more local knowledge than I have?' said the puzzled Chief-Inspector Coldridge.

      'Well there's nothing I can put my finger on Sir, none of the missing persons was related, or knew any of the other parties! The only thing linking them is that all the cars were found empty at this location. None of the vehicles were broken into; they were all locked, and some still had valuable possessions inside, so we can rule out high jacking and---'

      'Yes I know all about that sergeant, it's in the records. What I'm asking you, is, have you recieved any additional information that could give us some clue as to their present whereabouts....'

      'Oops, don't trip over those foundations Sir.'

      What foun--- oh yes, thanks. Er, what foundations are you referring to sergeant? You mean there was once a building here?'

      Oh yes Sir. But you wouldn't know about it would you, only having taken up your post a year ago.'

      'Get on with it sergeant. Know about what?'

      'The Diner. There used to be a Diner here, but it was destroyed, and the proprietor was killed by a German bomb along with several of the airmen during a raid on the airfield during the Second World War in ninteen forty.'

      'Really? What airfield would that be then sergeant?'

      'Deserted now of course Sir, and all of the buildings have been demolished, but over at the back of the Diner - about three-quarters of a mileaway from where we're presently standing, there used to be an operational RAF base during the war.'

      'All very interesting sergeant, but that doesn't help us now does it?'

      'No Sir, of course not Sir. But some round here do say that they can hear the sound of low flying aircraft flying over it on stormy nights - some of the old folk say they sound like Spitfires, but mostly, like them wartime British bombers! Got a distinctive sound they have.'

      'Stuff and nonsense sergeant, that's just stuff and nonsense. You'll be telling me next that these disappearances have got something to do with ghosts! Is that what you believe?'

      'No, No of course not Sir ... just rumours Sir, just rumours.

 

The month was turning out to be quite warm. It was Sunday May the eighth, and Leslie Faversham made a decision to take his family for a leisurely drive into the countyside in order to run in the engine of his new four-by-four people carrier. As he drove down the unfamiliar, winding country lane, bird song filled the air, and as they passed an orchid, the blossom on the cherry trees was in full flower, and the wonderful scent of wild lilac wafted in through the open windows of the car; filling their senses with its evocative fragrance. Five minutes later - as the car rounded a bend, there came into view, a sign which read, DINER. As it was nearly noon, the Favershams' opted to stop for lunch. Lesilie Faversham  parked the gleaming vehicle, and its occupents jumped out. Full of the joys of spring, the happy family group entered the Diner and sat down at a booth. The smell of sizzling sausages targeted their taste buds, and their tummys rumbled with anticipation. After sizing them up, the Owner licked his lips and approached them with a beaming smile on his abnortmally waxen face.

      'Marvellous news isn't it sir?' said the Owner above all the hooting, ringing of bells, and the noise of crowds roaring joyously that was spilling out of the radio speaker. 'Ready to order are we sir? Chef's special today in celebration! Bangers and Mash and nice juicy gravy. Finest sausages in the country they are. Yuh won't taste anything like 'em this side of hell! HA-H-HA-HA-HA... Only joking sir. Oh, an' as I said, the gravy is to die for, even if I do say so myself.

      'Er, um, yes, what marvellous news indeed. Er, yes it is,' replied Leslie Faversham not wishing to appear ignorant. He looked askance at his wife, who rolled her eyes back at him, and shrugged her shouldersin a gesture of puzzlement. Okay then, we'll have bangers and Mash, perfect; so we'll have five portions, two cups of tea for the wife and me, and fresh orange juice for the children,'

      'It is fresh orange juice I take it? We never let them drink squash - too many chemicals and colorants in it,' remarked his wife.

      'Oh yes me dear. Fresh as this lovely weather, and as fresh as your delicious children. Right then, five Bangers and Mash and gravy, two cups of tea, and three fresh orange juices comin' up. LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA,  LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA, LA-LA-LA, the Owner hummed  as he trotted off to prepare their order.

      'Was he humming God save the Queen?' said  Faversham's wife.  And did he just call the children delicious? And what did he mean by marvellous news? And didn't he say something about hell? What a strange chap.'

      'Oh well, it takes all sorts. I mean just take a look at all these old posters. Still, he looks harmless enough. Let's just enjoy the day. Mmmm, don't those sausages smell great...?

 

And the moral of this story is:

NEVER EAT FOOD IN A LONELY DINER, OR YOU MAY END UP AS A DINER'S DINNER....

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

 

    

     

 

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