'PLAT DU JOUR

The thick head-high thorny desert scrub caught and tore at Karl's overalls, as he stumbled through the darkness. Then all at once he was in the clear, standing by the side of a highway, which seemed to run straight and level to both horizons. In the distance to his right, he saw the glow of lights and so set off along the asphalt towards them.

His progress was slow, and he had to pause several times to gather his strength. It had been a long flight, longer than any he had undertaken before. He looked at the glowing face of the timepiece given to him by the family at his graduation. It would soon be time to report to headquarters. But beyond the fact of his surviving a crash landing, so far he nothing to report.

The lights were close now. Bright red, yellow and green neon. 'Tony's Last Chance Desert Diner3 they proclaimed, 'Only food for fifty miles.' A welcoming yellow glow blazed out across the wasteland from the glazed frontage of the low building. A car and a pick up truck sat were parked near the door. Karl slowly approached and through the windows saw two or three people seated at tables. They were eating.

The hunger that had been gnawing at his inside assumed epic proportions, and he felt that if he didn't eat something soon, he would collapse.

Gloria looked up from her magazine, as the door opened. She hadn't seen headlights nor heard a car. But what the hell, this time of night any business was welcome. She stared. This was one strange customer. Six foot tall, dressed in a stained set of overalls, torn in places and with some weird badges on the front. He was shaven headed and looked kind of oriental, but seemed to be covered in greyish dust. He reminded her of those guys who dance like robots in the town mall. Either that, or he was on his way home from a shift at the cement factory Only there was no cement factory that she knew of.

He glanced in her direction and walked stiffly to a booth at the far end of the diner. She put down her cigarette, poured a mug of coffee, picked up a menu, and made her way to where he sat. Close up she could see that he wasn't covered in grey dust. That was the colour of his skin. This was not a well guy. She found his eyes disturbing. The were almost purple, and seemed to glow with fire.

She placed the mug on the table. 'Kuwahfee,' she announced. 'Yuh wanna eat? The plate of the day is four fifty. We recommend it.' His head moved slowly forward. She took that for assent, and walked off.

'One plate de jooer Tony!' she yelled through the kitchen hatch, and recovering her cigarette, resumed reading her True Romances.

Karl again checked on the time. Soon he must make that report. Two of his fellow diners left and he watched as their car's rear lights vanished into the darkness. Gloria returned, canying a plastic tray.

'One plate of the day. Enjoy!' she commanded, before leaving.

Karl looked down with relish. Food at last. The large oval china plate was virtually hidden by a steak, onion rings, french fries and salad, and a small side plate held a large buffered roll. It's all so nicely presented he thought.

Time passed. Gloria leant on the counter chewing gum meditatively as she read. She only had two customers now, seated at opposite ends of the long room. Old Clem, a regular patron, was on his last cup of coffee and would soon be off. She glanced towards the booth where the grey man sat. His head was ducked down below the high back of the bench seat and she only caught an occasional glimpse of one elbow as he tackled his meal.

It took her by surprise when only a few minutes later, the stranger stood up and began to walk towards her, a faint smile on his pale lips. Automatically she scribbled out his check and pushed it over the counter as he reached her. He ignored it completely and made for the door.

'Heh! 'she cried, 'Where d'ya think you're goin'?'

He turned and looked at her briefly, then again headed towards the exit. 'Toneeeeeee!' Gloria yelled like a banshee. This was the established emergency call and it brought the large figure of her husband exploding from the kitchen.

'This guy's tryin' to leave without payin" 'Oh he is, is he. OK fella, let's see some dough.' Karl looked at him blankly.

Gloria grunted, '1 don't think he's got nuthin'.'

'Oh a wise guy! A freeloader,' said Tony, and reaching out, took Karl by the arm and marched him through to the kitchen. To Tony's surprise the arm felt hard and solid, like it was artificial or something. Maybe he just works out a lot. The chefs eyes flicked to the baseball bat he kept behind the door in case of real trouble. But Karl did not resist. There buddy,' Tony said, pointing to a large sink piled with the days dirty dishes. 'You kin' tackle that lot and go when you've cleaned them up.'

Toneecceeeeee!' Behind him the banshee screamed again. But louder than before. 'Jesus, what now,' and he headed back into the diner.

Gloria was standing at the far end staring wide eyed down at the booth Karl had just left. Tony hurried to her side. On the table lay the plastic tray, and on the tray was piled all of the food. Steak, salad, fries- everything. An island of food surrounded by a sea of cold coffee. 'Jesus. He never ate nothin".

'Yes he did,' Gloria quavered. 'He ate the plates and the mug.'

'The plates!' Tony exclaimed. 'He ate the sufferin' plates. Jesus H Kerrist! I left him in the kitchen with a pile of 'em!'

The two walked back slowly, and cautiously pushed the kitchen door ajar. Karl had his back to them and it looked, and sounded, as though he was gargling into a small mobile phone. He was reporting in, telling the Commander in Chief to send down the main invasion force. This planet was ideal for their silicon based life forms. Abundant nourishing food and the natives appeared harmless and friendly. He saluted, signed off, and slowly turned to face his hosts, while nibbling delicately on a saucer.