's 2017 Horror Write-off:

Anthony Bourdain's Nightmare

Submitted by Kira M.

I can't stop to think, I have to keep running from them... We don't know how or why they're here, but this is our world now. Just as I turn into an ally, I hear them shouting. I jump into a heap of trash and hold my breath. I cover my face with a wet newspaper and wait. The stocky mob of figures stops and turns slightly, and I can see their outline from one of the torches they hold. Their leader removes a respirator from his face, and the sickly stench of Axe body spray wafts from the device in hazy torrents. Their leader walks into the ally and sucks in giant gulps of air, sniffing like a bloodhound. The sound of skater shoes and chained wallets jingle ever so slightly. And then in a booming voice he speaks...

"Well hombres, I think we should rap it up! We had a lot of spicy moments tonight. Lots of great food! Resume filming tomorrow!" And with that their leader put the respirator back on and the horde started to waddle back to their nest, into the middle of the city. One of them shouted "This is totally money my dude!" before disappearing into the night. I sobbed softly before finally getting out from under the trash pile and nervously walked the two miles to the dumpster by the railroad yard I now live in. I carefully open the lid and get into the green dumpster, locking it from the inside. All I have here are a couple of shirts, a blanket and a knife for protection. I shut my eyes and hope to wake up in a better place...

*BANG*... there's something outside the dumpster, and I can see a trickle of daylight sift in through the gaps. The dumpster is being dragged along now, it's scraping pavement. Christ almighty, what is happening!? I'm being pulled somewhere. After thirty minutes of the cacophony of steel against asphalt everything suddenly falls quiet... I grasp around desperately trying to find the knife, but before I can, the plastic top of the dumpster is ripped cleanly off. In one movement I'm lifted out from my hideout by a thick arm and stood up straight, and as my eyes adjust to the light my nightmare began...

Standing right beside me in a brightly colored silk shirt and with sunglasses around the back of his head is the Beast With Frosted Tips: Guy Fieri. He grabs my shoulder in a friendly embrace and shoots a wide toothy grin at me, while his eyes remain bright but empty like a snake. His hand is heavy with gaudy jewelry and rings, and he pulls me in closer for a hug. The scent of curdled ranch dressing and malevolence oozes from his every pore. For a brief moment I swore that I saw him transform into a monstrous anglerfish wearing a Tommy Bahama shirt, feasting on a deep fried pumpkin. Suddenly a whole herd of Guys appear, each wearing silk shirts and so much jewelry that the glittering gold hurts to look at directly. Some of the Guys have recording equipment. Two of them have large television cameras directly fused to their shoulders, in a throbbing tangle of flesh and wires. One of them has two boom mics instead of arms. All of them share one expression, one of genuine excitement and anticipation. When the host Guy finally speaks the volume of his voice nearly makes me loose my balance.

"SO! How long have you been in the restaurant biz for Mackey???" He grinned and looked down at me. But I didn't know what to say.

"You're Mackey aren't you? Of Mackey's Magic Diner? You guys are famous for your out of this world bites! We came to sample Moonshine Mackey's Famous Hell Blazing Pork Honkers with Sashimi Slug Knots! Or the Eskimo Cajun Chicken Shooters with Tokyo Prime Time dipping sauce! Tell us about the Hip-Hop Triple X Monkfish Scribblers with Doggy Yam Hammers!" 

One of the camera-Fieri's couldn't contain his enthusiasm any longer and screamed "THAT SOUNDS FUCKING GANGSTA! OFF THE HOOK!" while another yelled out "I WANNA DIG INTO THOSE DOUBLE FRIED SLOPPY TUNA WALNUT WIGGLERS WITH THE SPICY KOLHA TAFFY!" which got a huge cheer from the mob of Guys. I couldn't take anymore, and I started weeping uncontrollably. Several of the Guys looked confused at this display of totally not bombastic behavior. The main Guy Fieri shook his head of beautifully frosted tips and sighed. He leaned down to my ear and in startlingly eloquent British accent he softly whispered:

"Drat. It's a crying shame, love. We all had such high aspirations for your dining establishment but I feel we're not seeing eye to eye on this. I'm usually a reasonable chap but I can't help but feel miffed about this. Oh well... this won't take long and Bob's your uncle, mate!"

The army of Guys made way for a huge iron caldron that was sat down in front of me. Before I could put two and two together the leader pushed me into the oversized pot. They began chanting. 

"One with the sauce part of the sauce... One with the sauce part of the sauce... One is the sauce, my donkey sauce." 

My insides started to boil, and slowly a brown froth of sugar, ketchup and vinegar poured from my mouth and began filling the pot. I felt my blood clot as it was turned to cheesecake filling and my bones snapping as they erupted with 'Jamaican Me Hungry Sassy Sausage Squirters'and Rayban sunglasses slid out from bursting pustules all over my face and back. Then the Leader Fieri bent down and the Camera Guys got a wicked tight close up of my infinite suffering for a promo bumper. 

"Well folks, we had a lights-out delicious time with Chef Mackey! We sampled the dynamite Wing-Wang Amber Alert Venison Nibbles, the real deal Screamin'Onion Smegloos with Portland Whiskey Dribble Sauce and the put it on a flip flop Greasy Gremlin Beef Ribbons! I'll catch you all later, on the next episode of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives!"

The lead Guy Fieri then looked down at my wretched twisted form, the donkey sauce was forcing its way through my tear ducts now. He carefully grabbed a pair of sunglasses from out of one of my boils, kissed me on the cheek and hissed.

"Welcome to Flavor Town, Mackey."