At least they served dinner.
You’re quite sure?
Well, not quite. Merely sure.
You fluster me, sir. Fluster me.
If you insist. The dinner was a dessert?
Not at all. Olives are not a dessert.
I say. With enough sugar, anything’s a dessert.
Ah, so much nonsense. Puns do not exist in this hotel, so prey do not employ them here. I have not the funds to pay them. Their teeth are sharp and their claws are borrowed from the snickety-snick!
The tax auditor was snatched up and eaten while inventing an adequate response to this breath-taking assertion. His scuba tank fell off when it happened, but the inspector missed the clue twelve hours later.
Mr. K (2024) is where you go if you need your fix of surrealism. Mr. K, a sleight-of-hand magician, has been invited to entertain at a hotel. His stay rapidly transforms into a trap as the hotel itself seeks to contain him, shunting him from kitchen to his room to another room to, well, perhaps that was Alice of Wonderland.
All the while the purposes of hotel and story remain obscure. That’s about all I can really say, as the story becomes more and more obtuse, and when an escape finally is presented, I can only wonder if it’s really an escape, or another trap.
Like I said, surrealism. If you like it, great, have at it, have fun. If you don’t, though, this may not be your cup of tea.
