Alexa marches through the town, the tapping of her shoes echoing off of each and every building. Suddenly, she turns and swings open the doors to Noollab’s.
‘Can I help you Miss?’ asks a startled waiter.
With pink, glistening eyes, Alexa glares at the waiter and demands the special. As the waiter turns towards the kitchen, she shouts, ‘Never call me Miss! Call me … The Critic.’
20 minutes later
‘Finally! Do you want me to starve to death?’
The waiter hands her a bowl of warm spaghetti and meatballs. Alexa seizes a silver spoon and scoops up a brown meatball entangled in golden spaghetti.
‘What do you-‘ the waiter hurriedly closes his mouth to avoid swallowing the half-consumed food.
‘Yes?’ Alexa demands, glaring through oversized, red glasses.
The waiter swallows and completes the question.
‘What do I think?!’ Alexa barks. ‘I think that worms and pooballs is a delicacy compared to this! And have you ever heard of a microwave? It is a common, simple, helpful device that warms up food.’
Alexa bolts up and marches towards the kitchen. Heads curiously turn at the deafening tapping of red shoes. The waiter rushes ahead and blocks her route. The Critic demands to see the chef. Suddenly, she glances a yellow balloon wearing a chef hat.
‘What is a balloon doing in a kitchen?’ The Critic shouts.
The balloon walks out, revealing a purple-bodied and yellow-headed alien wearing steel boots, steel wrist-guards and a chef’s hat: ‘I am a Noollab, not one of these balloons you speak of.’
Alexa orders the now spaghetti-covered Noollab to return to Frankenstein and joyfully promises to bring the restaurant to an end. In response, the alien breathes in, doubling its size. Then, it grabs Alexa as the waiter removes the steel shoes. The alien steps out a door and as if gravity was weakened, leaps and soars over the restaurant. The waiter and Noollab enter a spaceship resembling a balloon animal and release a complaining, barking and kicking Alexa.
1 hour later
‘Take me back now!’ Alexa screams. In kidnapping I, The Critic, you have sealed your restaurant’s fate.’
‘Be quiet,’ says the Noollab softly, ‘or you’ll scare the gaps.’
‘The gaps in what?’ Alexa demands. ‘Your brains?’
‘Not that type of gap,’ says the waiter, pointing to something as they land on a dark-green planet.
Alexa follows the waiter’s finger to a group of spaghetti-like snakes: ‘You want me to be quiet for those … things! I did not order you to bring me to Frankenstein.’
The Noolab opens the ship’s doors and gestures for Alexa to follow. Determined to find a way back, she walks down the metal ramp. Suddenly, the ground shakes as terrified gaps dig underground. The group walks into a city full of cylindrical buildings and stop at Spag’s Pooballs.
‘Why have you brought me here?’ barks The Critic. We thought you might like some food,’ said the waiter and Noollab simultaneously.
Alexa swings open the doors to Spag’s Pooballs.
Startled, a server asks, ‘Can I assist you Miss?’
With pink, glistening eyes, Alexa glares at the server and demands the special. As the server heads to the kitchen, she shouts, ‘Never call me Miss! Call me … The Critic.
25 minutes later
‘Finally! Do you want me to starve to death?’
The server hands her a bowl of hot spaghetti and meatballs. Alexa seizes a silver spoon and scoops up a brown meatball entangled in golden spaghetti.
‘What do you-‘ the server is cut short by Alexa demanding a pen and paper.
30 minutes later
Alexa shoots up and barks, ‘Bring me the owner.’
‘I believe you are looking for me,’ says the Noollab, entering the restaurant.
Alexa hands the piece of paper to the Noollab: ‘Five Stars.’
The waiter screams: ‘You’re, you’re … smiling!’
Alexa freezes before quickly changing to a serious expression and demanding to be taken home.
‘Of course,’ says the Noollab calmly. ‘I just have a small stop to make first.’
The group walk (or march in Alexa’s case) towards a farm just outside the city.
A yellow-bodied, blue-headed alien comes out and bows his head in greeting.
With what seems like a strong Yorkshire accent, the farmer asks the first Noollab, Spag, what he wants.
’20 kg of gap poo and 10 litres of gap sweat.’
‘What?’ barks Alexa as the farmer goes to fetch the order.
‘I’ll explain on the way back to Earth,’ says Spag.
The next day.
How can sweat make poo taste so good? wonders Alexa as she published a five-star review of Noollab’s and finishes demolishing another bowl of spaghetti and pooballs.