Galactic gastronomic fantasy tour.
"Pirate Tavern"

I have a bad feeling about this…
"Electronic, doesn't this ship remind you of anything?" I ask my travel companion nervously, pointing to the approaching space structure.
It seems to me we've stumbled into a pirate story.

We get closer. A tavern-ship. The sign reads "Pirate Tavern."
Hopefully, I say, "Maybe it's just styled that way? For the ambiance?"
We dock.

Inside, it's dim. Brutal-looking alien travelers are devouring roasted meat and snacks with gusto.
The smell of smoking dishes on spits and grills is overwhelming.

Something primitive and animalistic rises from the depths of my reptilian brain. I want to sink my teeth into that juicy, meat-dripping flesh immediately.
We ask for the menu.
Oh! Our clients. Text-only. No pictures. I nod to the Electronic. We need to taste-test thoroughly here.
Pirates or not, business is business. We order two or three dishes from each section.

The waiter becomes obsequiously polite, eyeing our pockets suspiciously. As if probing remotely—can our motley crew afford such an extensive order?
He casts a final glance and heads to the kitchen.

Kiss-Kiss has gone quiet. Clings to the Electronic. Wrapped one tentacle around his finger. Suckers attached. He timidly surveys the dark hall and the carnivorous chomping alien guests.
Senses something amiss…

What a feast we've ordered! The waiter rolls a full cart of roasted delicacies to our table. The brutish patrons eye it greedily.
Good thing we have encrypted electronic space money. If it were paper, we wouldn't get out of here alive.

We start our meal.
The three-headed one is magnificent. Looks impressive over our feast table.
The patrons freeze and watch us.A greenish lady, smiling invitingly and swaying her hips energetically, sits next to the Electronic.
"Treat a lady, Your Excellency!" she says in a luxurious deep contralto.

Caught off guard, the Electronic drops a huge roasted leg of some unknown purple animal onto the plate, gulps down the contents of his mouths feverishly, and, glowing with all three pairs of neon eyes, hospitably invites the lady to the grill assortment on our table.

A greenish lady, smiling invitingly and swaying her hips energetically, sits next to the Electronic.
"Treat a lady, Your Excellency!" she says in a luxurious deep contralto.

Caught off guard, the Electronic drops a huge roasted leg of some unknown purple animal onto the plate, gulps down the contents of his mouths feverishly, and, glowing with all three pairs of neon eyes, hospitably invites the lady to the grill assortment on our table.

"Well, well," I think. I didn't track which utility he connected before we disembarked today.

Following the lady, a short, cocky-looking fellow approaches with a swaggering gait. I tense up. Oh, this isn't good…
"Madam, does your mother need a son-in-law?" he says with a claim to originality, uttering a phrase worn out across the galaxy.
Ugh, how banal.
But no longer scary. Looks like they plan to rob us.
I cautiously lower my hands under the table and press the SOS button on my bracelet. Now they can't get into our ship, and we'll figure it out here. We're not kids.

And the Electronic is in his element! Pampering his yellow-eyed beauty from all sides.
Even made Kiss-Kiss jealous. Though scared, he doesn't want to lose his top position in the three-headed one's life.
At first, he lay low. Made some unimaginable face on his pink mug. Then, with all his might, he leaped onto the lady's hat and started tearing at it with his tentacles.

The fun began. The lady screams. The fellow tries to pull Kiss-Kiss off the hat. Noise... Commotion…
Ahaha! Even the Electronic can't pull Kiss-Kiss off once he's latched on.
And the hat doesn't budge. Is it nailed to her head or something?

I advise the fellow to take his lady away from our table. Otherwise, trouble is inevitable. Kiss-Kiss won't calm down. I know his stubbornness.
The lady and the fellow retreat. The Electronic follows, offering Kiss-Kiss his favorite chocolate chip cookie and presenting his middle head instead of the tattered hat.
Kiss-Kiss graciously agrees, grabs the cookie, and leaves the lady's hat alone.

We look around.
All the brutish patrons instantly lose interest in us and demonstratively eat their meat. Was it some kind of test?
We gather the remaining provisions. Pay the bill. And return to the ship.
We made it…
I need to think about how to sell my hologram menu here.
Not an easy task.



To be continued…