Antiquing in Space

"Little bro, wake up!" Randy obnoxiously began slapping my cheeks (the face kind). "We have a ton of work to do today."

I groggily opened my eyes and sat up from the metallic floor. "Uh... It's 4:00 in the morning, nothing's even open yet."

"Don't be silly. Everyone knows that the early burger gets the worm."

"I think we'd get shut down for health violations if a burger got a worm." I rebuked.

For the third night in a row we slept in our ship, which Randy once again parked illegally. This time in a handicap spot at the local Space-Mart parking lot. If we were going to keep doing this, I needed to at least get a sleeping bag or a blow up mattress because my back was starting to kill me from sleeping on the cold hard floor.

"Well, since I'm already up, I did some research last night and priced out the equipment we'll need to get up and running." I pulled out my phone, of which I had an elaborate spreadsheet that I put together.

"Already a step ahead of you." Randy pulled out a crumpled napkin from his pants pocket. His handwriting and the fact that it looked to be written in blue crayon made it difficult to read. After squinting a little and tilting my head, I was able to make out the following:

• Grill

• Fryer

• Fridge/misc food storage

• Spatula, tongs, misc cooking utensils.

• Safe (For all the money we're going to make)

• Saw (to cut service window into side of ship)

• Plywood (to cover service window when not in use)

"Aren't those things a bit outdated? It would be cheaper and way more efficient if we got a 3-D food printer." I turned my phone to him and showed him a decently priced model I found on Space-bay.

"Not gonna happen, little bro. We're doing this the old fashioned way!" He shot down my idea immediately.

"Yeah, but how are we even going to find that stuff? The only time I've ever seen old cooking equipment like that is in a museum. Not to mention, cooking itself is a lost art."

I was unaware of anyone that cooked for themselves. With robots and food printers, there was no reason to know how to. My brother's ideas were completely irrational.

Randy remained optimistic. "It's a vast galaxy. Somewhere out there I'm sure we can find what we need."

That sounded like finding a needle in a haystack.

"Why would we do manual labor ourselves, when we can just automate the food production?" I continued to object.

Randy sternly shook his head. "I refuse to serve my customers slop from an assembly line! A machine can't add the secret ingredient."

I stared at him unconvinced. "And what's the secret ingredient?"

"No clue, but it's probably love... or maybe some kind of seasoning... Anyways we'll just figure it out as we go." My brother was eager, but it didn't seem like he thought any of this through.

"But-."

Randy shushed me. "What did I tell you at the Casino the other day?"

"What are you talking abo-?"

"Butts are for crapping! Now let's stop wasting time. We got a long day ahead of us." He had his mind set and there was nothing I could say to convince him otherwise.

He hopped into the ship's driver seat and cranked the key in the ignition... Nothing, the engine lay silent.

"You just got to have a little finesse with it." He responded, while proceeding to try again... and again.

"Can you wait a sec for me to sit dow-"

Of course, as I should have expected, just before I was about to sit down in the passenger seat, the engine fired on and he hit the gas, full throttle, causing me to tumble head first into the cargo hold. I don't even know what the point of having a passenger seat was when this kept happening.

🍔🍔🍔

"Just sit back and let me show you how to haggle with these people, little bro." Randy asserted, as he reached for the doorknob to the entrance, an outdated brick building, which was located on the opposite side of Space Chicago where all the hipsters lived.

He threw open the door, revealing what appeared to be a room full of junk. The only reason I knew that wasn't the case, was because of the sign out front that read "Antique Store".

Unsurprisingly, we were the only people here, other than an old guy slumped over a counter, who appeared to be asleep... at least I hoped so.

"Hey old timer, we're looking for some vintage cooking equipment." Randy spoke as he entered the store.

"..."

There was no response from the old guy.

"Yo geezer!"

"..."

Still no response. I was starting to get a little concerned.

A small bell sat on the counter just beside the old guy with a label stuck to it that read, "Ring for Service". Randy began to repeatedly ring it with his hand.

Miraculously, the old man began to lift his head up in a sloth-like motion.

"Can I help you gentlemen." He said in a frail voice.

"We're looking for some old school cooking equipment. You got anything like that?" Randy responded.

The old guy held the back of his ear. "Heh?"

"We're looking for cooking equipment!" Randy spoke louder.

"Huh?... You want cookies? I got some animal crackers if you'd like." He pulled a box from his pocket.

"NO, I SAID COOKING EQUIPMENT!" My brother shouted on the top of his lungs.

"Oh, there might be something over in the back corner." He pointed us to a poorly lit section of his shop.

Randy excitedly pranced over and began digging through the shelves. I stood beside him and watched as I wondered why anyone would actually spend money on old junk like this.

"Woah check this out!" Randy exclaimed as he pulled out a plastic pink rectangular box that was about a foot tall and wide. Written on the side in blue cursive font were the words, "Simple-Cook Oven".

I Looked at it curiously. "What is it?"

"No clue, but it must be cooking related. It says it right on the side." Randy held it up and tried peeking into one of the slots on the side.

I pulled out my phone and Spoogled it.

"Says here that it's a children's toy from a long time ago. Apparently it cooks food with a lightbulb."

"Hmm, we might be able to use this." My brother was intrigued. He put it off to the side and continued his search.

I wasn't so sure about that. At the end of the day, it was just a plastic box with a light bulb inside.

"Woah, check this out! It's just like the one that yellow sponge from that ancient cartoon uses at his fry cook job." Randy held up a tarnished bent-up metal spatula as if it were a sword.

"Looks like a piece of scrap metal to me." I responded.

He looked at it closer. "And check this out." Engraved on the side were the words, 'made in China'. "That sounds pretty fancy to me."

After looking for a while longer, he couldn't really find anything else of interest. He took his spatula and Simple-Cook Oven and tucked them under his arm.

"You're not actually thinking about buying that junk, are you?" I protested.

"Of course I am." He made his way back up to the old guy. "Yo gramps. How much do you want for these?"

"Huh, you want some peas." The old guy responded.

"No, how much are these!?" Randy raised his voice.

"You got bad knees. I'm sorry to hear that, sonny."

Randy Yelled, "I SAID, HOW MUCH!?"

"Oh." The old guy took a second and inspected the two items. "One hundred stollars."

Randy immediately slapped two hundred stollars on the counter. "Keep the change."

As we exited the antique shop, I turned to him. "That seemed like a waste of time. We still don't have any of the stuff we need."

"You worry too much, little bro. It's about the journey, not the destination." Randy remained optimistic, but that wasn't going to generate revenue for our business.

A gravelly voice that came from behind us suddenly chimed in. "So the two of you are looking for vintage cooking equipment."

Leaning up against the side of the antique store was a sketchy individual wearing a black trenchcoat. I couldn't make out whether he was human or some other alien species, since his face was covered by the shadow cast from his black trilby hat.

"Yeah, you know of any places where we can get some?" Randy responded not seeming suspicious in the least.

The trenchcoat guy gave a subtle nod. "I might have some coordinates to a planet where you could pick some up, but it'll cost ya."

I whispered to my brother, "I don't know about this. I'm getting a weird feeling from this guy."

"He looks perfectly trustworthy to me." He muttered back. He turned back towards the guy. "How much are we talking for these coordinates?"

"20 thousand stollars." He responded.

"Woah, that's way too mu-!"

Randy spoke over me. "15 thousand."

"Throw in that Simple-Cook Oven and you got a deal." The sketchy guy countered.

Randy looked a bit conflicted as he held up the Simple-Cook Oven. "As much as I want this thing, I'd rather have those coordinates."

"Are you sure this is a good Idea?" Despite my attempts to voice my concerns, He still proceeded to hand over the money and the Simple-Cook Oven. In exchange, the sketchy guy tossed him a data drive.

"Time to see where this baby brings us little bro." Still with his junky spatula in hand, Randy led the way back to our ship. As I looked back, the sketchy guy was already gone, seeming to have slipped into the shadows. I had no idea why he wanted that Simple-Cook Oven so badly, but it was just an old toy, so who really cared.

So far things were not going as planned. My brother just couldn't help himself but to waste money. I was skeptical about those coordinates. For all we knew, we probably just got scammed. There was no way to know where it would bring us. This trip would be a complete shot in the dark.