The Badgeritarian Restaurant
The large central restaurant in Badgerland is an expansive, single storey affair that once had a capacity for 250 people at wipe clean plastic tables, all addorned with cartoon monchromatic carnivores. Some of the fixed seating has been chewed at by a hungry badger or two, and most of the windows havebeensmashed in, but it's still a fairly functional building. The dishes under heated lights that once served the themepark equivalent of food to thousands of visitors a day have long been ransacked and emptied, and it's only the heavy manual lock on the ktichen door that's kept that area stocked, although what's happened to the perishable goods in that time, it's probably best not to ask.
Flourescent lights flicker precariously on a suspended ceiling, and at irritatingly random intervals, the sound system attempts to sound up and a mechanical voice echoes through the hall.
"There's hundreds of badgers, all under one roof, it's called Badgerland Badgerland Badgerlaa..."
Flourescent lights flicker precariously on a suspended ceiling, and at irritatingly random intervals, the sound system attempts to sound up and a mechanical voice echoes through the hall.
"There's hundreds of badgers, all under one roof, it's called Badgerland Badgerland Badgerlaa..."