Neptune by Night

NEPTUNE BY NIGHT

THE LATE-NIGHT DINING SCENE

• • Especial From the moment you pass through the opened-oyster doors you sense you’re not in Kansas anymore. A cavalcade of odoriferous elegance marches through your nostrils to the pleasure zone in your dome. A colleague of profound importance begins to melt before your eyes. The inability to move your feet begins to freak you a little but then an alien wrapped in gelatin moves in and takes your order: An appetizer of crisp pancakes filled with bamboo shoots and minced meat. You could turn down the house specialty, a delightful smorgasbord of coquille, duck, lamb, pigeon, and Szechwan beef, for an entree of chitlins and pork rinds  Take note of the Louis XIV décor and let your eyes wander to the caged baboon licking its engorged penis near the entrance of the ladies’ room. Your waiter interjects knowingly, “Would you like to see our list of specialty sausages?” Feel your composure slipping and try to fight the urge to bleat laughter helplessly. Or ... give in to it and suddenly become triumphant by morphing into the Queen of Diamonds! Doing so only lasts a moment as you shrink into a half-eaten vanilla wafer. Not the way you wanted to end the evening, but this is the Especial.

• • Insatia Insatia You are in for a treat if you’re fortunate enough to be accepted for membership. All you have to do once you step inside Insatia is strip to the bone and let the staff do its thing. A spread of roasted tomatoes and goat cheese are presented on the small of the back of a fair-skinned Swedish nymph as you are fed grapes from nubile Egyptian waifs. Don’t be surprised to feel the triple-tongue of a Neptunian oral masseuse lightly tickling your genitalia as you tilt your head back to view the opulent ceiling. You might want to apply for a lifetime membership if you happen to bite into a buttery lobster just as you reach orgasm. All meals and orgasms are followed by a Turkish bath. Bon appetite!

• • Fuggudi’s Have you eaten sauerkraut from the ass of a chimp? If the answer is “no” then you must visit Fuggudi’s. Try eating baked beans from the nostril of a giraffe or a serving of oatmeal from the pouch of a kangaroo. All of the animals are alive and if you are truly bold you can order any meal sans constraints. The use of live animals as a food-delivery mechanism may be ethically questionable, but any more so than harvesting animals for food? Intriguingly, it’s not just humans eating from the orifices of live animals. Don’t be surprised if you find yourself sitting next to a gorilla chomping on a celery stalk dangling from the ear of goat. As you might have guessed, Fuggudi’s is strictly vegetarian.

• • Nattering Nabobs of Negativity An incarnation of the earthly Agnew serves spinning phrases of both aplomb and disdain to cynical diners who gnash at the dolled-up sayings in an attempt to discover hidden meanings. Patrons typically leave with their preconceived suspicions affirmed.

• • Cucamonga Palace Just around the corner from Nattering Nabobs, the Cucamonga absolutely exudes freshness. You can actually feel your molecules ionizing and the distinct rhythms of blood pulsing through your earlobes. If that isn’t enough, the frog legs are to die for. You’ll know it’s time for the check when mushrooms resembling your face pop through your tablecloth. But don’t forget dessert: An avalanche of ice cream covering pineapple crumb cake! Also, it’s worth waiting for the skin-shedding woman who prances after midnight. Truly an event. Check for tripwires before slipping into the gents. Elongated death masks have been known to fall from the ceiling on unsuspecting men with full bladders. Careful with your cameras, please. A party of four Japanese folk singers perished due to excessive photography in the Amazon Room just weeks ago. Nevertheless, this is a great place to change your mind about things.

• • Kaarl’s No trip to Neptune can be considered complete without a visit to Kaarl’s. The chef of the same name is one of Neptune’s greats. The man sports an eleven-inch cock and he personally seasons all of the dishes with his own salty sauce. Grotesque? Maybe, but the savory glazed salmon will put you in a forgetful, if not forgiving, mood. You also have to acknowledge Kaarl’s attention to his diners’ comfort: He once quenched a woman’s accidental ass-fire with a spew shot ranging at least six meters. Kaarl is loaded; are you’re ready?

• • The Zealot If you’re looking for spiritual growth or enlightenment then you have come to the wrong place. Moralism and religiosity are the specialties here. An oddity on Neptune at the moment, patrons cook and wait on the staff and chefs but still foot the bill. As the guests’ feelings of injustice rise, the gorging chefs preach self-righteous contempt for the debauchery of neighboring restaurants, providing scapegoats for the paying—and slaving—customers’ seething rage. The poor saps exit with empty wallets and a fundamentalist resolve to put the neighboring restaurants out of business.

• • Au Faertiche As you bite into your arugula salad you’ll notice a fierce copper blue streak of light flash in front of your eyes. Moments later, a fluorescent orange beam zips past your left ear. A small hissing sound seems to come from everywhere and nowhere. Your pulse has risen dramatically and your adrenaline is pumping. Whatever equilibrium you once had has been unequivocally altered. The walls are expanding and contracting opposite your heartbeat. A gerbil climbs onto your table and barks like a seal. Small children marching from the kitchen transform into turnips which are collected by rats scurrying toward the exit. Your body seems emulsified and unable to move. Your brain, curious as it is, bores through your skull, slips to the floor, and follows the rats parading through the exit and down the street to the wharf. Once there, gypsies collect the turnips from the rats. Passing sailors haggle over price before purchasing the turnips that serve as icons for the nomads desperately seeking meaning. Back in the restaurant, the rats have forsaken the turnips in order to chew on the opening at the back of your skull—two rats have managed to climb inside of your empty noggin and are mating with such fury that your eyes are in danger of popping out of their sockets. Meanwhile, the gypsies have noticed that the stream of turnip-bearing rats is dissipating. Several gypsies run to the restaurant. The first gypsy entering Au Faertiche gawks at the sight of rats fornicating inside your skull. She rushes to your table and yanks them out of your head. Your brain, meanwhile, is slowly ambling back to your body. Unfortunately, a gang of gypsies is cleavering your limbs with the intention of selling them as lawn ornaments to retired gnomes. By the time your brain returns, the gypsies are gone … as are your arms and legs. Ah well, it was tired and worn body. Your brain rolls about in a bowl of sugar-glazed strawberries and once thoroughly glistening it expands into a gelatinous sphere. It thinks, “Ah, Neptune,” before jettisoning through the roof, streaking into space, and blasting through nebulas before being sucked into a black hole. Your consciousness is overtaken by a serenely ecstatic wave of energy before being absorbed into nothingness. Not a bad way to end your existence in the scheme of things.