Invasion of the Alien Diner

Greg had officially been working at Chucky Cheese for five shifts now, and in those few short days, he'd made a name for himself—a name that induced groans, eye-rolls, and occasionally, nervous laughter. Today, another hapless employee had been assigned the unenviable task of training Greg. Jonathan stood off to the side, his arms crossed, a smug grin plastered on his face as he watched the unfortunate soul attempt to teach Greg how to assemble a cheeseburger properly.

"Okay, Greg," the new trainer began, trying to keep his voice steady despite the anxiety evident in his wide eyes. "So, you take the bun, put a little ketchup on it, just like this—"

Greg nodded enthusiastically, grabbing a bottle of mustard instead. "Got it! Ketchup on the bun!" He squeezed the mustard bottle with the force of a jackhammer, sending a thick, yellow stream of mustard splattering not just on the bun, but all over the counter, his uniform, and the trainer's shoes.

The trainer jumped back, yelping as the mustard splattered his feet. "Greg, that's mustard! Not ketchup!"

"Oh…right," Greg mumbled, looking down at the mess with a puzzled expression. "But it's the same color, right?"

The trainer's eye twitched. "No, Greg, it's not the same color. Ketchup is red, mustard is yellow."

Greg scratched his head, his face scrunching up in deep thought. "Huh, weird. They should make them the same color so it's easier."

Jonathan couldn't hold back his laughter. He chuckled, watching with barely concealed glee as the trainer tried to salvage the situation. The guy was clearly out of his depth, and Jonathan was relishing every moment of it.

The trainer forced a smile, clearly on the verge of a breakdown. "Let's just try again, okay? But this time, with the ketchup."

Greg nodded, grabbing the ketchup bottle with all the care of a toddler handling a delicate vase. He positioned it over the bun and—

"Easy there, big guy!" the trainer said, his voice laced with panic. 

But it was too late. Greg squeezed the bottle with the same overzealous enthusiasm as before, but this time, the ketchup shot out in a perfectly aimed stream… directly onto Jonathan's face.

Jonathan's smug grin vanished instantly, replaced by a look of shock as the ketchup dripped down his forehead and onto his shirt. The trainer froze, his eyes wide in horror, while Greg just blinked, staring at Jonathan like a confused puppy.

"Oh, wow," Greg said after a moment. "Sorry, Jonathan. I didn't mean to do that. My bad!"

The entire kitchen seemed to hold its breath. Then, as if on cue, the other employees who had been sneaking glances at the unfolding disaster burst into laughter. They doubled over, clutching their sides as Jonathan stood there, his face smeared with ketchup, trying to process what had just happened.

Jonathan wiped his face with the back of his hand, his ears burning with embarrassment. "It's… fine, Greg. Just… be more careful next time."

Greg nodded earnestly. "Okay, I'll be super careful. I promise!"

As Greg grabbed a towel and clumsily tried to help clean up the mess, Jonathan felt his earlier amusement drain away, replaced by the sting of being the butt of everyone's joke. He could hear the snickers, the whispered comments, and he knew that they were all enjoying his misfortune just as much as he had enjoyed watching the trainer suffer.

Greg, oblivious to the embarrassment he had caused, kept dabbing at Jonathan's shirt with the towel, only succeeding in spreading the ketchup around. "I'm sorry, Jonathan. I didn't mean to make you all red like that."

Jonathan sighed, forcing a strained smile. "It's okay, Greg. … maybe go back to the grill with the trainer. I'll take care of this."

Greg gave him a big, relieved grin. "Thanks, Jonathan! You're the best!"

As Greg shuffled back to the grill, the laughter finally died down, though Jonathan could still feel the lingering amusement in the air. He was just about to head to the bathroom to clean himself up when Greg's wails echoed through the kitchen.

Greg had caught sight of the others laughing, and despite his size, he suddenly looked very small. Tears welled up in his eyes as he started to wail, his loud cries causing the kitchen to fall silent again. 

Jonathan groaned inwardly. As if this day couldn't get any worse.

At that moment, both Alice and Indira appeared from their respective corners of the restaurant. Alice, as usual, looked like she was trying hard to maintain her tough exterior, though Jonathan noticed a flicker of concern in her eyes as she approached Greg.

Indira, on the other hand, stormed in with her usual authoritarian presence, her eyes sweeping the scene with a mixture of annoyance and exasperation. "What is going on here?" she demanded, her voice cutting through Greg's sobs.

Alice stepped in front of Greg, trying to shield him a little from Indira's wrath. "It's okay, Greg. Calm down, everything's fine."

But Greg continued to cry, his blubbering louder than ever as he clutched the towel in his hands. "They were laughing at me!" he wailed. "I didn't mean to do anything wrong!"

Indira let out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Greg, you need to stop crying. This is a workplace, not a daycare. If you keep this up, we'll have to send you home."

Jonathan winced at the harshness of Indira's tone, but Alice quickly interjected, placing a gentle hand on Greg's arm. "No one's sending you home, Greg. Just take a deep breath, okay? Let's get you back on track."

Greg sniffled, looking up at Alice with teary eyes. "You promise?"

Alice nodded, giving him a reassuring pat. "I promise."

Indira crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing as she looked around the kitchen. "What happened here? Why is Jonathan covered in ketchup?"

Before Jonathan could answer, Greg blurted out, "I accidentally squirted him in the face! But it was an accident, I swear!"

Indira's eyes narrowed further, and she looked at Jonathan, who was still trying to rub the ketchup off his shirt. "Why didn't you keep an eye on him, Jonathan? You know how easily he gets distracted."

Jonathan opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Alice stepped in. "Indira, let's not get into a blame game. Greg's still learning, and accidents happen. The important thing is to get back to work and make sure the customers are taken care of."

Indira huffed, clearly not satisfied with letting it slide, but she relented. "Fine. But this is the last time I want to see this kind of chaos in my kitchen. Understood?"

Everyone nodded quickly, eager to avoid further confrontation. Greg wiped his nose with the back of his hand, mumbling another apology as he shuffled back to the grill.

Indira turned her attention to Jonathan. "And you, clean yourself up. We can't have employees looking like a mess in front of customers."

Jonathan nodded, muttering a quick "Yes, ma'am" before heading off to the bathroom.

As the kitchen returned to some semblance of order, Alice shot Jonathan a sympathetic look. "Don't worry about it," she whispered as he passed by. "You did your best."

Jonathan managed a weak smile, grateful for her support even if she tried to mask it with her usual tough demeanor. He headed to the restroom, eager to wash off the ketchup and the lingering embarrassment.

Meanwhile, somewhere in outer space, 3 slender-looking figures can be heard discussing a rare burger that can't be found anywhere in the cosmos but in one place. Earth. The discussion ended abruptly after this discovery and the UFO ship zoomed at the speed of light in the direction of the planet. 

Thirty minutes later, the kitchen had settled into a steady rhythm. Greg was back to working under the trainer's watchful eye, though the trainer had wisely decided to keep him far away from the condiments. Jonathan had cleaned up and returned to his duties, still smarting from the earlier incident but doing his best to push it out of his mind.

And that's when the aliens arrived.

The front doors of Chucky Cheese slid open with a quiet whoosh, and three tall, slender figures entered the restaurant. Their skin was a pale shade of green, with large, almond-shaped eyes that glowed faintly under the fluorescent lights. They wore sleek, silver bodysuits that shimmered as they moved, and their heads were crowned with what looked like small, glowing orbs.

The restaurant fell silent as everyone turned to stare at the newcomers. For a moment, no one moved, the entire room frozen in shock.

Then, the aliens started speaking. Or at least, they made noises that could be generously described as speaking. A series of high-pitched chirps clicks, and warbles filled the air, completely unintelligible to the humans in the room.

Greg's face lit up in delight. He turned to the trainer, eyes wide with excitement. "Oh my gosh, I think they're speaking French!"

The trainer looked at Greg, then back at the aliens, his jaw-dropping. "Greg… that's definitely, not French."

But Greg wasn't listening. He took a step forward, waving enthusiastically at the aliens. "Bonjour! Je m'appelle Greg!"

The aliens paused, their large eyes blinking in unison as they stared at Greg. They exchanged a series of quick, clicking sounds, their expressions unreadable.

Then, as if deciding Greg wasn't worth their attention, they shook their heads in unison and began fiddling with small devices on their wrists. The devices whirred and beeped, and a moment later, the aliens began to speak again—this time in clear, albeit slightly robotic, English.

"We seek the limited-edition Teriyaki Bacon Cheeseburger," the tallest alien declared, its voice smooth and emotionless. "It is the key to our continued mission."

The room erupted into chaos once more. Employees and customers alike began whispering excitedly, pulling out their phones to take pictures or videos. Jonathan, who had just emerged from the restroom, froze in his tracks, his mind struggling to process the scene in front of him.

Alice and Indira exchanged a glance before both springing into action. 

Indira strode forward, her usual commanding presence back in full force. "Welcome to Chucky Cheese. I'm the manager here. Can I help you with your order?"

The alien tilted its head, its glowing eyes focused on Indira. "Yes. We require the Teriyaki Bacon Cheeseburger. It is essential to our mission."

Indira blinked, momentarily thrown off by the alien's odd request. "I'm… I'm afraid we don't have that item on our menu anymore. It was a limited-time offer, and we discontinued it last month."

The aliens exchanged a series of clicks and chirps, their glowing eyes flickering as they communicated with each other. Finally, the lead alien turned back to Indira. "This is unfortunate. Our mission requires the specific taste and composition of the Teriyaki Bacon Cheeseburger."

Indira opened her mouth to respond, but Greg suddenly stepped forward, his eyes wide with excitement. "Wait! I remember that burger! It had teriyaki sauce and bacon, and it was super yummy! Maybe we can make it again?"

The aliens turned to Greg, their eyes narrowing slightly. The lead alien made a clicking sound that might have been a sigh. "This human understands the significance. Can you recreate the Teriyaki Bacon Cheeseburger?"

Greg beamed, clearly thrilled to be part of the conversation. "Yeah! I mean, I can try! Right, Indira?"

Indira looked like she was about to explode, but before she could say anything, Alice stepped in, placing a hand on Greg's shoulder. "We'll do our best," she said, her voice calm and steady. "But we'll need some time. Why don't you all take a seat, and we'll bring it to you as soon as it's ready?"

The aliens seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding in unison. "This is acceptable. We shall wait."

As the aliens moved to a booth near the back of the restaurant, Jonathan exchanged a bewildered glance with Alice. "What just happened?"

Alice shrugged, though there was a faint smile on her lips. "I think we just got an intergalactic order."

Indira, who had been silently fuming, finally found her voice. "Greg, you better not mess this up. This could be our chance to make a name for this restaurant. If we serve these aliens, we'll be famous!"

Greg nodded eagerly, oblivious to the pressure. "Don't worry, Indira. I won't let you down!"

Jonathan couldn't help but feel a pang of nervousness. Greg was hardly the person to trust with a task this important, but they had no choice. The aliens had asked for him specifically, and now it was up to Greg to deliver.

As Greg and the trainer rushed to the kitchen to recreate the elusive Teriyaki Bacon Cheeseburger, Jonathan and the others watched from a distance, holding their breath. The restaurant had never felt so tense, and all they could do was hope that Greg would somehow, miraculously, pull it off.

The aliens sat patiently at their booth, their glowing eyes occasionally flicking toward the kitchen. They were eerily calm as if they had all the time in the universe to wait for their meal.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Greg emerged from the kitchen, holding a tray with three burgers carefully arranged on it. He looked nervous but determined, his earlier confidence replaced by a mix of fear and hope.

He approached the aliens with trembling hands, setting the tray down in front of them. "I… I hope this is what you wanted," Greg said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The aliens leaned forward, inspecting the burgers with their glowing eyes. They exchanged a few quick clicks and chirps before picking up the burgers with their long, slender fingers. In unison, they took a bite.

The restaurant was deathly silent as everyone waited for the aliens' reaction. Jonathan, Alice, and Indira watched anxiously, their hearts pounding in their chests.

The lead alien chewed slowly, its face unreadable. Then, after what felt like an eternity, it swallowed and looked up at Greg.

"This… is satisfactory," the alien said, its voice devoid of any emotion. "The taste and composition meet the necessary criteria. Our mission can continue."

Greg let out a loud sigh of relief, a huge grin spreading across his face. "Oh, thank goodness! I was really worried there for a second!"

The other employees and customers erupted into applause, cheering for Greg as if he had just won a great victory. The aliens, however, remained calm, finishing their burgers with quiet efficiency.

Once they were done, the lead alien stood up, nodding toward Greg. "You have our gratitude, human. Your service will be remembered."

With that, the aliens turned and walked out of the restaurant, leaving the humans to marvel at what had just happened.

As soon as they were gone, the room exploded into chatter, everyone talking excitedly about the alien visit. Jonathan couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief, glancing at Greg, who was basking in the praise from his coworkers. Jonathan wasn't sharing in the excitement, however. 

He stood off to the side, watching Greg soak up the accolades. The sight of Greg—Greg of all people—being celebrated felt like a punch to the gut.

"So this is it, huh?" Jonathan muttered to himself, the corners of his mouth twitching downward. "I'm officially the worst employee at Chucky Cheese."

He could hardly believe it. After everything he had endured, after all the times Greg had driven him to the brink of madness, Greg had somehow managed to pull off a miracle. He had impressed not just the staff, but actual aliens from another planet. And what did Jonathan have to show for it? A ketchup-stained shirt and a bruised ego.

"Unbelievable," Jonathan muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Of all the people, it had to be Greg."

He watched as Greg was congratulated by the other employees, who were treating him like some kind of hero. Jonathan couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, mixed with a heavy dose of disbelief.

"Guess I'm the joke now," he thought bitterly. "All this time, I thought Greg was the problem. Turns out, it's me."

With a heavy sigh, Jonathan turned away from the celebration, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation settle in his chest. He knew he'd never live this down. From now on, he'd be the guy who got outshone by Greg, the walking disaster.

As he made his way to the back of the restaurant, he could still hear the echoes of laughter and cheers in the background, a harsh reminder of how quickly things had changed. Greg had gone from being the bumbling idiot to the unexpected hero, while Jonathan was left to grapple with the realization that he had just been knocked off his pedestal by the last person he ever expected.

"Maybe tomorrow will be better," Jonathan thought to himself, though he wasn't entirely convinced.