The city of San Francisco, California provides its occupants with the oldest and largest Chinatown in North America.
Chinatown, San FranciscoEdit
It is a popular tourist attraction of multiple ethnicities, but this Chinatown has the largest Chinese community excluding Asia and supplying more visitors than the Golden Gate Bridge in addition to a population of over 100,000 individuals. It is equipped with its own government, cultures, traditions, and over 300 shops and restaurants, somewhat of a Times Square, if you will.
And if you want to know of its more interesting origins and history, there was a restaurant called The Golden Dragon, recently closed due to health violations—health violations my ass.
In 1977, the restaurant’s infamousness was aroused after the Golden Dragon Massacre—a gang related rivalry of which resulted in blood and violence. But a few years ago in 2006, another horrifyingly gruesome incident occurred but was only reported as a closing due to a failed health inspection.
The elaborately decorated walls enclosed the restaurant of The Golden Dragon and a Maximum Occupancy: 200 Persons sign hung between the cultural decorations. Although the occupancy was not exceeded, it was still a hectic Monday evening. The air was chilled and the sky was dark with an absence of stars as the pollution soared with its density equivalent to the clouds.
The neon open sign was converted into its distasteful array of blandness as its illumination was switched off.
There were exactly 183 innocent occupants within the restaurant—some were currently receiving their bill and others were in the progress of being seated by the hostess. The chairs were elegantly carved within their mahogany and the tables were delicately displayed with their menus and napkins and silverware (and chopsticks) upon the tablecloth.
The closed doors were all carefully and thoroughly locked with securely fastened security with the desire of no one’s forthcoming entrance…or exit.
The consumables within the kitchen and upon the tables were each prepared as a delicacy and digested with a pleasure of which was beyond satisfactory. The steam would produce ribbons of condensation that floated toward the ceiling and its glowing chandeliers and the flavor would be savored due to its exquisiteness.
The glass windows were each concealed behind thickened layers of rice paper to assure the invisibility of the restaurant’s interior.
Beneath the amber brightness of The Golden Dragon logo with its combination of a fancy font and mandarin symbols, there were not even shadows of the imprisoned customers. As entrées continued to be prepared and devoured, some customers noticed the locking of the doors and the shielding of the windows; no one was scared—they were only confused and curious.
A customer with his wife had recently acquired the bill and exchanged the fortune cookies for his credit card. He was an obese American with a depleting bank account, but he was extremely favorable of the dim-sum dumplings; just as they began to settle into the acidic solution within his stomach, he vomited his meal upon the table and drenched the white tablecloth and the three dollar tip that his wife had just placed.
“Ethan!” was the worried exclamation of his wife as she avoided the projecting chunks of orange digestion. She placed a hand upon his back as Ethan unleashed another hurl of chicken and vegetable congee that was spectated by a restaurant full of disgusted customers and an immediate suspicion of severe food poisoning was developed but massive amounts of sickening blood were within the coarse solution of his projectile vomiting.
Another table of which was distant from Ethan’s withheld another sick individual—she hunched over and vomited her recently induced meal as well. Perhaps from the revolting grossness of Ethan’s infirmity? Far from it—she produced more blood than vomit as it eluded from her mouth with forceful convulsions of her stomach.
The waitress returned to Ethan and returned his credit card to the table. It was as if she did not notice the vomiting individual—her eyes were filled of terror that deliberately neglected to witness the sickening splatters of partially digested dim-sum.
“What was in his food?” his wife demanded as she attempted to make eye contact with the employee. Her English was extremely poor, but just as a tear streamed down her cheek she managed to utter a single word: “Poison.”
There were terrified gasps and murmurs exchanged within the customers of The Golden Dragon. There were several people who attempted to decrease the restaurant’s occupancy as they headed for the doors that stood below the exit sign. They were locked.
“What the hell is going on?” and the chaos began to slowly develop due to the single word of poison. The doors rattled with the struggle of the captive customers and their fear significantly increased as several other tables began to become coated with vomited Chinese food. The two languages of English and Chinese erupted from the outraged customers and the elegantly dressed manager stepped from behind the Employees Only door; he was immediately confronted by an unsatisfied customer—he was angry and aggressive with the name of Brian.
“Are you poisoning us?”
“Yes,” was the manager’s reply, and before his explanation was revealed, Brian threw his clenched fist of white knuckles into the manager’s face. The blow landed between his eyes and the frames of his glasses were bent in addition to the shattering of the glass lens and the customer’s knuckles transitioned from white to bloody red—a color of which was synonymous to the manager’s face. The blood dribbled from his nose and from the glasses’ incisions and a small fragment had been lodged into the sclera of one of his eyeballs.
“Ethan? Ethan!” was shouted as the previous wife failed to find the pulse of her idle husband—he lied upon the floor with smeared vomit upon his mouth and open eyes with no life within them.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” and Brian shouted his imperative to the bloody face of the manager as he approached him for an additional impoundment. But the manager produced a small pistol from within his waistband and opened fire. An ear-piercing round from the chamber occurred thrice and impaled Brian’s torso. “Oh, fuck…” were Brian’s last words as he collapsed with his riddled chest—blood seeped from the corpse and screams of intense horror had erupted within the enclosed building. The poison produced a slow and painful death as it bubbled within your body and eroded the walls of your tormented stomach. Extreme decibels of "Someone please help us!" and "Unlock the fucking doors!" were erupted from within The Golden Dragon as their shaking and petrified hands began clawing at the rice paper until the poison’s symptoms of vomiting blood were developed. Another customer named Kevin of which was currently unaffected remained clear and cautious of the manager’s line of fire and questioned “What have you done?” and the manager wiped the blood from his nose and spat a loogie of blood onto the carpeted floor and approached him with his response of “I’ll show you,” as he holstered his pistol and produced a knife. The manager clutched Kevin’s shoulder as he plunged the knife’s blade deep into his abdomen and performed gashing incisions as Kevin screamed in pain and agony of which was unified with the remainder of the vomiting and dying customers. Kevin’s stomach was impaled and the thickness of the blood was accompanied by a vague mist of green that gassed from the gaping hole within his stomach. “The poison is a reactive virus consisting of peptide bonds within the polymers of the amino acids. The acidic base is so massive with an uncharted pH level that essentially dissolves its contacted cells with extreme irritation from the venomous toxins. Now I’m no doctor, but you’re all fucked.”
Kevin’s torn stomach concluded the spraying of the poison as the blood and gore flowed from his bloody abdomen. The manager released his hand and Kevin fell forward and added to the increasing body count.
The manager was oriental but spoke perfect English; however, the customers wished that they had not understood his description of what the hell was going on. The bright green of the poison was within all of their bodies—some becoming infected later than others, but they were all reserved a position beyond the gates of the afterlife…they had all consumed the restaurant’s poison.
The poison that had been released from Kevin’s body consumed the atmosphere within the restaurant and presented a repulsive stench that overwhelmed the gallons of vomit splattered across the floor. There were excessive moans and groans that resembled a massive haven of sexual activity—but sexual pleasure was an antonym as to the performance of the poison.
The result of the poison’s consumption was comparable to the settling of ipecac and an instant development of stomach ulcers as a churning eruption of your digesting contents forces its burning acid up your throat. You feel your ruptured stomach burst as the poison erodes its surface and your loosely dangly esophagus collides with your other vital organs as they all become touched and affected with what could be as little as a single droplet of the poison.
The 183 occupants were all concealed within that goddamned restaurant…and the majority of them were dead. The remaining survivors continued to tear the rice paper from the windows and express their tremendous terror to passing strangers—the doors were attempted to be opened and the authorities were notified of the strange situation beyond the windows of The Golden Dragon.
The customers struggled to navigate among the blood and vomit that over a hundred cadavers laid motionless in; chairs and tables were slammed against the windows with weakening aggression as the infirmity was applied to more and more customers. But eventually, the windows were shattered.
There were several victims that escaped the restaurant—but no one escaped the terminal result of death. The streets were littered with blood and vomit and dead bodies as panic erupted throughout the Chinatown with the Chinese believing that it was a doomed prophecy and the Americans believing that it was the zombie apocalypse.
The police eventually arrived on the scene of the restaurant and were presented with the entire floor coated with blood and vomit and a massive number of deceased customers…and the manager focally stood in the middle of the massacre’s result with his pistol grasped.
“What…h-happened here?” emerged from the quivering lips among the disgusted face of one of the policemen with each member of the law enforcement having their 9mm aimed directly at the only living organism within the restaurant. They awaited an explanation, but the manager vertically placed his pistol’s barrel to his chin and pulled the trigger.
The manager’s bloody face was mutated into a volcano of blood and brains as the bullet destroyed his skull and ejected itself through the ceiling. The life of the manager was instantly ended and the purpose of the poison was left unknown as the body collapsed upon the rest of the deceased of which laid amongst the blood and vomit.
The restaurant was then closed due to “health violations” in accordance to the media.
The massacre in 1977 claimed the lives of 5 people. The poison of 2006 claimed the lives of 183 people.