[The scene changes abruptly. Fooker and Mischief are now seated at a restaurant table. Behind them, green skies filled with multiple moons can be seen behind purple mountains and a purple-blue sea. A strange alien, presumably their waiter, stands nearby attentively.]
Alien waiter: <<alien language>>
Mischief: <<alien language>>

Alien waiter: [Turning to Fooker] <<alien language>>
Fooker: Er... I'll have the soup?

Fooker: [Looking down at the bowl the waiter places in front of him] Um, thanks.

[Another alien's head suddenly rears out of the soup bowl, its gaping maw of sharp teeth snapping at Fooker.] <<VROWK>> [The bowl tips as the creature scurries away.]

Fooker: [Looking sick as a slimy tentacle slides off the table next to him] I... seem to have lost my appetite...

Alien Waiter: [Addressing Fooker and holding out his hand] <<alien language>>
Fooker: Um... no hablo español?

Alien Waiter: [Looking annoyed and now speaking English] I said, that will be 10,607 Veriluxian dactarian, sir...
Fooker: [Looking sheepish and grinning embarrassedly as he rummages through his jacket pockets] I... seem to have left my wallet in my other coat...
Mischief: [Standing and grinning] Time to leave!