Who’s hungry for some pizza? I could sure use some! Bread, sauce, cheese and farm meats…It comes in a box. Usually one that’s brown with fat red cursive painted on it, and after we’re done eating we toss it and wait for the next shipment of delicious round savory pies. Better scrape off all that cold residual cardboard cheese! Or else a big fat rat might appear and infest our cubicles with hungry, aggressive rat babies. Mice.
Pizza is Italian but it’s also American. I’ve heard people say that it’s made differently here in America versus how they do it over in Italy. Who cares! My husband is part Italian, but he can’t even eat pizza because he’s allergic to yeast and lactose. More for me and more for you, too, because today we’re getting some more pizza. Yup, I already placed the order and they said it should be here, scalding hot and bulging with blood red sauce in less than 20 minutes. My husband is eating vending machine candy or Ritz crackers with Nutella today like every day, because he’s legally blind and can’t pack his own lunch, and I refuse to pack it for him because he refuses to enjoy pizza with me!
Are you ready for some pizza? It’s coming real soon. Did you get your fork from the kitchen and a hard plastic plate? Or do you prefer, like I do, to use two hands and a paper towel? You place your triangles on the sheet, you walk them over to your desk, you scarf it all down, you lick up the grease till you can’t take it anymore and say what the hell I’m just going to ingest this wet, heavy, fat-infused Bounty paper too. And why not? It’s pizza-related, so it tastes really great, and you can always get more towels from the spindle above the sink.
Wow, are you getting impatient and hungrier than ever? I am. I’m getting kind of angry, too. It’s nearing the 18-minute mark and the delivery agents aren’t answering my calls. Do they have bigger orders to fill? Are we no longer an important client to them? Should I have ordered 100 more pizza pies? Who knows! What I do know is I’m hungry, and the people I work with and really care about are hungry too, and I really don’t like it when people stand me up and make me beg for something that’s rightfully mine. The more and more I think about it, it doesn’t look like we’re getting what’s ours, and I think that is completely unfair and it makes me sick to my stomach that this can happen to us in America or Italy or wherever we are right now.
Can you make pepperoni out of rat meat? Aren’t they just tiny pigs? And pigs make pepperoni, so why not rats or mice. Is Jennifer around, or is she still on maternity? I wonder if she’s producing enough dairy to share some with us. We could turn it into cheese. Maybe not mozzarella, but something similar, like milky ricotta. I bet at least some of you idiots brought a sandwich to work today, didn’t you, even though I told you yesterday that we’d be having pizza again. Oh well, looks like you’re in luck and we’re in business because now we can glue all those bread slices together and create the base for our pie. Go get them. No wait — we’ll toast them first and then glue them together. Someone plug in the toaster.
And someone bring me a knife for the sauce. Oh wait never mind, there’s one right here on my desk. It’s a big, sharp, butcher’s-style knife, and it’s going to go downstairs right now and find us some sauce. Or maybe it can’t wait to go downstairs. Maybe it’ll just have to look for some sauce around here instead. Who’s hungry for some pizza? I am. I could sure use some.
