A Taste of Science Fiction

Retired wizards in their states of disrepair standing around and chatting beneath the luxurious and dangerous cosmos. They have the golden key to the snack booth on Planet R but they will not reveal its locale. Perhaps it is buried in Tobacco Mound or in the stairwell of Skyway Foyer in the Midnight Region where Doctor Nobody plays havoc with the sky jewels. Or perhaps they keep it on their person, casual as can be. No one would know it if they kept it at the bottom of the yeast tub in Old Mister Frog's work shack on Country Road 5000. What difference does it make where the golden key is? No one cares anymore now that snacks have gone virtual. They've been replaced by images and ideas and sometimes, by transdermal skin patches. I could use one right about now. They come is 14 million sizes and flavors. My latest craze is Fat Boy Slim sausage flavored with rave crystals. It's sort of an on the go thing that boosts you up and gives you the sausage flavor. Uniquely Fat Boy Slim. It's his brand. Or rather, the brand he left to his kin many years back. Another of his best sellers is called Juicy Crusts. Its the part of the bread you usually don't eat but filled with juicy gel. And there's a treat in there: plenty of aminos to keep you up all night with no crash. They put that product under the umbrella of Powerhouse Lunch options for the young. By young they mean anyone under 400 years old.