Oh, what a night! The annual Colonial food fest at Apple Butter Farm was glorious but, frankly, that night before I went to bed, my stomach felt like I’d just climbed off a Tilt-a-Whirl. I downed Alka-Seltzer like I’d downed champagne earlier but it was too little, too late.
We were spending the night after the fest at the farm with Cutlass and Bobo. A good thing, too. One should never drive or take a plane when in a food coma. When sleep finally came, I fell into it with a bang. I couldn’t get food off my mind. I dreamed I was at a buffet but this time it was on a spaceship.
I dreamed I was at a buffet but this time it was on a spaceship.
Bobo wandered into the dream and morphed into an alien called Klaatu. Michael Rennie played the character in my favorite 1950’s sci-fi film “The Day the Earth Stood Still.” Now Bobo alias Klaatu, dressed in green sheet metal armor, was inviting me into his spaceship.
Klaatu pointed to the buffet. Somehow it all seemed familiar like I’d done this before. The table was spread with food from other galaxies and looked like Klingons had cooked it. Prickly fried pods were heaped on a platter. A bowl contained a gooey liquid bubbling like the La Brea Tar Pitts. Slithery moving things were piled in glass cups.
I took a small selection and went to my table.
Next to me was a female robot called Zizikaal. She was dripping with pearls. Her plate was piled high with the offerings. Ugh!
Klaatu sidled over to me, sat down and whispered, “Be nice to her. She’s owns an entire planet and wants me to redecorate it.”
Then he confided in me. “If I should suddenly be attacked by Gort say, “Klaatu barada nikto.”
“Is Gort the chef?” I asked, looking around for someone in a tall white hat.
Suddenly, another robot appeared with a can opener, poked a whole in Klaatu’s armor and started twisting the crank.
“Sylvia, help!” Klaatu yelled. “It’s Gort!”
What were those magic words that would save Klaatu? Quick! Ah, yes! “Klaatu barada nikto!” I yelled at Gort. “Klaatu barada nikto!”
Suddenly, the spaceship started shaking. It was Max shaking me. “Wake up!” he said. “You’re having a nightmare.”
I sat up in bed and kicked off the quilt. My nightgown was soaked with sweat.
Thank goodness it was already morning. I didn’t want to return to the alien buffet.
“I’ll never eat again,” I said, leaning into Max. “What a ride!”
“That’s what you say every year, but back we come!”
I hugged Max. “I dreamed I was eating at an alien buffet and the food was still moving. Yuck!”
“You do look a little green,” he said.
“Don’t – say – green.”
When Max and I went down to the kitchen, Bobo was already piling food onto the breakfast table.
“Just a few leftovers this morning,” Cutlass said, sitting down and helping himself to a huge wedge of pumpkin pie with whipped cream.
A few leftovers? The table was loaded with biscuits, ham, pie, cornbread, a huge bowl of fruit, sausages, and hardboiled eggs. There was a hollowed out round bread with a green mass oozing out of it.
“What’s that?” I said, pointing to the bread. It looked like it popped out of my dream onto Bobo’s breakfast table. More green. Not my favorite color today.
“I forgot to serve that yesterday. It’s spinach soufflé in a bread bowl. Not Colonial, but popular.”
My eyes started to hurt. I won’t even mention my stomach.
“Bobo, dearest,” I said, giving him a peck. “Yesterday was glorious but today is another day. I think I’ll have a mineral water and half a grapefruit.”
“Well,” Bobo said, sounding a tad huffy, “if that’s all you want, okay.” He got up to get the mineral water and said over his shoulder, “You’re missing out on great leftovers.”
I’ll have mineral water and grapefruit for breakfast every day for a week.
Thank goodness the next Colonial fest was a whole year away.
I mumbled quietly to myself, “Klaatu barada nikto.”