Douglasthedog Habitica August-6-2020

I had just woken up at 10:00 AM after a long night out with my family. It was time for me and my family to go and get some breakfast. We went to my dad's favorite breakfast place, but it was closed, with a sign on the door saying "This restaurant is closed as it is under investigation due to a strange occurance in the kitchen." I was so disappointed, that I was stomping my feet and screaming on my way back to the car. However, when I got back into the car, something strange that was happening. I looked out the window and noticed that the alley behind the diner was busy with activity.

"Have you calmed down?" My father asked. "That was quite the tantrum. Were those pancakes really that important to you?"

"They were actually. You know about those banana pancakes. They're worth stomping and screaming over.  And I'm feeling much better now, thanks." A black Suburban turned into the alley and parked next the other two that were already there. "There's another one."

"What do you think 'strange occurrence' means?"

"Yeah, why not just say there was an accident or malfunction or something? Think maybe that's the Board of Health and Safety?"

"They wouldn't send that many people out over some mouse droppings or cockroaches. Those aren't vehicles from the Board of Health and Safety. If this was a movie, I'd think those vehicles were from the Secret Service or the CIA."

Another vehicle turned into the alley, this one not a Suburban. This vehicle was a passenger car, a German luxury sedan, the same color black as the Suburbans. It parked behind the short row of SUVs. The driver's door opened. A tall man in a black suit stepped out. He looked at the back of the diner. He looked at the Suburbans. He looked back down the alley to where we were parked. Looking satisfied, he opened the German sedan's back door.

From the back of the car came a smaller man. He wore glasses and was dressed in a suit but not like the driver. His was finer and fit him better, clearly it was more expensive. He held a clipboard. He took the same looks around the area. Then he walked to the lead Suburban.

Twelve men in total emerged from the large black vehicles. Tough looking men dressed in mid-grade suits. They gathered around the smaller man.

"You seeing all this?"

"I can't look away. Something serious is going on back there."

"Those have to be government men."

"Why would the government care about a diner?"

"Terrorists? Counterfeiters?"

"I guess that would qualify as a strange occurrence, son."

Behind the diner, the twelve hard men listened intently to the smaller man. After a long five minutes, the huddle broke. A plan had been drawn. Action was about to be taken.

Three things happened. First, four of the hardest looking men moved to the back door and took up position on both sides like they were about to breach. Second, the remaining eight hard men moved to the far side of the Suburbans, putting the vehicles between them and the door. Last, the small man and his driver went back to the German car and stood, watching attentively.

"Something's about to go down, Dad."

The four men moved on the door. A man jerked the door handle and pulled the door

open. The men on the close side rushed in, followed by the door opener and his partner.

The door closed. The remaining eight watched from across the black SUVs. The small man with the glasses and fine suit watched by the car.

A few moments passed and nothing happened. A few more passed and still nothing happened. The hard men and the small man began to fidget. More time passed and still nothing. The men behind the diner grew increasingly nervous. More time passed and there was  still no sign of the four men that entered the diner.

The small man hurried to the Suburbans and began an animated conversation with the eight. He talked and pointed at the door of the diner. He talked and pointed at four of the remaining eight men. He pointed back at the door and talked some more.

"Dad, do you feel that?"

"It's getting warmer."

"Yeah, I'm starting to sweat a little."

The men behind the diner seemed to notice at the same time. In unison they turned to look at the back door. They took a step back. They pulled at their shirt collars. They fanned their coat tails. The small man fanned himself with the clipboard.

The temperature continued to rise. Heat spread out in all directions. Three of the suit wearing men started the Suburbans and moved them away from the diner. The small man's driver did the same to the sedan. All of the men looked anxious and puzzled.

"I'm going to move us back too. I think we could get a better look at what's going on from over there."

Dad moved the car. I kept my eyes on the action.

"That heat was definitely coming from inside the diner," I said.

"I don't know what all this is, but they were right. It is a strange occurrence."

Dad parked the car. The new angle was better. If the back door opened, we would have a look inside.

We sat in silence. The government men stood waiting. Waves of heat vapor rose from the diner's roof. Nothing happened for a long twenty minutes. Then the waves stopped. The area began to cool. The government men were tired of waiting. They began to move.

The plan had changed. All of the remaining tough men in black suits moved to the back door and took up position. They exchanged hand signals. Their bodies stiffened. One of the men put his hand on the door handle and readied to open it. They waited for a signal from the smaller man with the glasses and the expensive suit.

They never got a signal. They didn't need one. The door began to open on it's own.

The men in black suits made a hurried retreat, pulling large hand guns from shoulder holsters as they ran toward the Suburbans. Some dropped to a knee, others stood cocked sideways, they all held their pistols pointed at arms length.

The door opened fully. Waves and waves of heat and smoke rushed out and upwards. Finally, the smoke cleared. The dark rectangular doorway filled with color. At first it was a dirty white, then it turned golden, and then finally brown. A mass of substance pushed itself slowly outside. It rolled out the door and landed in a pile. Steam and heat rose from the formless heap.

Dad said, "Is-Is-Is that a biscuit?"

The men in suits held their guns on the hot pile of dough. The small man stared from

behind the sedan. The formless pile sat steaming.

Then it began to take form.

It rolled back and forth on the ground until it became a long cylinder. Then it bent upwards as if sitting up. The half still on the ground split in two forming legs. It stood. Arms broke loose from the torso. A head-shape formed. It was massive.

"That's no biscuit, Dad! That's a biscuit MAN!"

I heard Dad start the car and clunk the transmission into drive. I heard the booms of gunshots and the wet thumps of lead meeting dough. Then the screams from the tough men in black suits as the biscuit monster tore them limb from limb. The German sedan's tires screeched in the alley.

Dad and I drove home in silence. Neither of us mentioned it to Mom. We never talked about that day again.

We were parked a good distance from the diner. Far enough away not to feel the heat from the gestating biscuit monster. But sometimes, on Sundays especially, after the car's been in the garage all night and we head off early to church, Dad and I notice it but don't say anything. Mom doesn't know, so she just says it.

"Does anyone else smell biscuits?"