The Lankville Daily News

Brian Schropp on Cuisine

Dear gentle readers, I am sorry you haven’t heard from me in a few weeks. In relating what happened to me in the Deep Northern Suburban Hill Country, I came to the part where my kinfolk and the Cameron tribe discovered that my “old school chum” Nate Grossenbaum was really “The Great Addaric”. I tried off and on to write what happened next but the horror of it all was just too great. There is a reason President Poncherry doesn’t allow city folks into the hill country and I saw it all first hand. You really don’t think those cannibal films you see on the late night Lankville cable channels (usually scrambled because my folks won’t pay for it) really happen but I’m here to tell you that they do.

RIP Nate Grossbaum: What Were You Thinking?”

I suppose if there is a positive to be found in watching Nate being ripped opened while still alive and his organs being eaten by hill people was all the technology he left behind. For some reason the fool had all these generators up there so he could recharge all the stuff on his suit. I was able to use these to hook up the old microwaves my kinfolk had stolen from the city. Then, I showed them how to heat up all the pilfered “magical food”. It was quite a joy seeing the sparkle in their eyes as many in my tribe tasted their first bacon, egg and cheese breakfast sandwich or spicy beef burrito. This gave the Schropp tribe the confidence to overwhelm the Camerons who had them on the run for awhile. Unfortunately the horror started all over again when the now defeated tribe was massacred and not only were body parts ripped off and organs ripped out but these things were being microwaved and eaten warmed! My lessons had been used for evil!

It was quite astonishing to see the gentle look in the eyes of Franz, Strong Fist and Hamburger one second and then, seconds later, witness the savage fury of human flesh eating. I had all that my sweet and tender mind could take so I made a quick exit when they were in full “eating the Cameron tribe mode”. My biggest fear was my kinfolk coming after me once they realized I was gone and then deciding to eat me even though I was their “Great Bumpkin”. A little ways down the hill as I was fleeing (in the direction I thought was home) I ran into Scott my manager at the “Pizza-A-Round”. He was leading a “search party” which consisted of Oscar and Omar my “cleaning team”. The two didn’t seem that happy in finding me (I really “crack the whip” at work sometimes) but Scott seemed pretty pleased. I could see by the full arsenal he had on him that Scott could safely lead me out of the hill country.

Picture of my manager Scott relaxing at home.

I’m pretty sure I would have never made my way out of the confusing twists and turns of the place without Scott. He kept his guard up constantly– “I’ll shoot anything that crosses my path- ANYTHING!” Luckily nothing too much crossed our path until we got closer to the outskirts of Deep Northern Suburban Lankville. Then it was only a hobo or two.

When we made it back to the “Pizza-A-Round” things were in a state of chaos. It seems that without the strong leadership of Scott the place had fallen apart. The worst part was the dishes had piled up and the super squirrels were circling around the back door because they could the smell the crusted food. I didn’t even worry about changing out of the trash bag/deer skin hill outfit my folks made for me. I walked over to my “manager sink” and donned my yellow cleaning gloves. “Come on Oscar and Omar, to your sinks, CLEAN-CLEAN!!” The duo frowned and went about their tasks.

I think that my fellow co-workers were at first taken aback that I didn’t change out of my hill outfit and soon the

​Oscar and Omar- my “cleaning team” I know they really love me.

laughing and teasing began. I could hear the jokes and snickering behind my back but it didn’t matter– there were dishes to clean to “keep the ship afloat”. It started to affect the performance of the store as a whole, things started to get even more out of hand. Scott finally took out a gun and fired a few warning shots into the ceiling silencing everyone. “How dare you.” He scanned the whole room giving “the Scott look” to them all. “If you only had HALF the dedication that Bri has!! I swear I feel like shooting someone right now– just give me an excuse!!” They all calmed down then and got back to work. That’s what I mean when I talk about strong leadership!

Dr. Nickelbee, my therapist, who sits WAY too close to me.

When I got home to my “basement apartment” that night I reflected on how much Scott thought of me and it made me feel good. But the horrors of what I witnessed in the hill country wouldn’t leave my mind. After a few days I think my folks saw I had a lot on my mind and was not acting right, I wasn’t in the mood for any type of food (especially the breakfast pizza rolls my mom had started to make me recently) and not even attempting to watch scrambled porn on the Lankville cable late at night. Then the articles stopped, I couldn’t write a single word. Mom and Dad found me a therapist on the cheap so I could talk about it. His name is Dr. Nickelbee and he sits WAY to close to me on the couch. (Believe me readers you will be hearing more about him in future articles).

While stroking my knee tenderly he tells me I’m suffering from shock from the events that happened in the hill country and it’s turning into depression. He said the best medicine was to get back to writing those fantastic articles I do for the paper (then he squeezed my knee very, very hard). So here I am, “back in the game” so to speak. So please look forward to some excellent food articles in the coming weeks!! Until next time, keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas! Happy eating!!-Bri

Brian Schropp on Cuisine

So I found myself in a pretty rough spot, I was up in the rugged Hill Country of Deep Northern Suburban Lankville kidnapped by the Cameron tribe and taken to see somebody or something called “The Great Addaric”. The worst part, I was desperately hungry– being taken before my lunch break at the “Pizza-A-Round”. My thoughts turned to the “Pizza Eggwich” I was going to make on my break. This cutting edge idea I had been working on for awhile and was looking forward to tasting my test product. The constant pushing, poking, and prodding by the Cameron Hill People kept bringing me back to reality.

“Keep moving chubby,” their leader (whose name was “Shifty Eyes”) said. “We will be to “The Great Addaric soon!”

The beautiful but dangerous Hill Country of Deep Northern Suburban Lankville

Who was this Addaric jerk? And why had “Shifty Eyes” called me “The Great Bumpkin” earlier? (please see last article). These folks, much like their city namesakes, were not very friendly and were entirely unresponsive to my questioning. The steep rocky path they had me walking up was surrounded by heavy woods and a deep underbrush. It turned out to be an excellent ambush point for out of nowhere came another group of hill people. They advanced screaming their warrior cries and waving their weapons (some clearly had handmade weapons like spears and others had things collected from “city folk” like hubcaps). Having no idea who they were or what was going on I collapsed into my “defensive fetal position” which I learned in my old High School days.

This new group quickly drove off the Cameron tribe without much bloodshed. I was picked up and whisked away to the safety of the other side of the hill. The men put me down on my feet then they got down on one knee. They chanted “The Great Bumpkin” for a few minutes. Then the one who was clearly the leader of this group stood up and grabbed my shoulders, smiling.

“Great leader, cousin, dare I say friend, you have finally come to us!” He went on to say his name was “Franz” the leader of the Schropp Hill People!

I was overjoyed meeting my hill kinfolk and went around to shake each of their hands, grateful they had saved me. There was “Strong Fist”, “Dory”, “Hamburger”, “Merle” and “Sweet Berry” among many others. They got on their knees again and started to chant “The Great Bumpkin”.

“Come on guys, get up!” I was slightly embarrassed by all this but yet l did like the attention. “What is this Great Bumpkin thing about anyways?”

Franz grabbed my shoulders again “You!! Part man, part bumpkin. The one sent to the Schropp Hill People to save us!”

“Really? Did my folks contact you?” My mom and dad had tried over the years to pawn me off to various relations “for a break”.

“Our elders have spoken of you often. A special, sweet and tender person who was blessed with certain powers. Powers advanced to us hill people. Powers over magical food from your cities.”

“Hamburger” advanced and pulled a prepackaged breakfast sandwich out of his hill attire. “Great power, great power,” he mumbled.

“Not sure what is so powerful or magical about this but with the proper equipment I could make it for you.”
The group stepped back in astonishment “ohhhing” and “ahhhing”.

Schropp Hill People L to R- “Hamburger”, “Franz”, “Strong Fist”, “Sweet Berry”

I was then taken to meet the rest of my people were which was not far, they had set up a makeshift community of huts and tents by a river. After another warm greeting I was taken to a tent where I was finally able to
eat something. The women had prepared a rabbit stew (which was delightful) and then one brought some strips of beef jerky. “Magic food for you Great Bumpkin”. The jerky was a bit tough but topped off the stew nicely. I was then given new clothes to dress in which were a combination of deer skin and trash bags.

Franz took me on a tour of their mobile village– not only did they carry their tents and huts with them but they had a lot of older appliances (like microwave ovens and deep fryers) which they must have stolen from dumpsters on the outskirts of Deep Northern Suburban Lankville. I could see they wanted to use these things to cook “magical food” but of course it was beyond them. If only there was some sort of power source where we could hook all this up and teach them.

After the tour Franz and I sat down to talk. It seems that the Schropp and Cameron hill tribes were two of the most powerful clans around. For many generations they lived side by side, tensions would flare up every once in awhile but mostly they lived peacefully. It wasn’t until last year that this “Great Addaric” showed up and starting helping the Camerons. My people seemed very frightened of this character– so much so that they soon fled their lands and went on the run.

I started to ask Franz what they were so scared of but we were interrupted by a commotion from outside. The cries and yells of the women, children and most of the men from my tribe told me I was going to find out sooner than later what “The Great Addaric” was all about.

​”The Not So Great Addaric”

I heard a loud distorted voice coming from the edge of the camp. “RUN YOU IDIOTS-RUN AWAY FROM MY POWERS!!”
I had to convince not only Franz but also “Strong Fist” and “Hamburger” to follow me. Pushing pass my kinfolk I made my way outside and was utterly shocked by who I found.

“Nate?”

Nate Grossenbaum was a dude I knew in High School– very much a loner who was into role playing games and goth music. He was now dressed in total black wearing some strange device he had rigged up to distort his voice and create this neon lighting effect that came out of his hands. I was pretty sure most of his outfit was an old laser tag game from our youth.

It took a moment for him to recognize me, most likely because of my new hill outfit. But once he did the lighting soon stopped from his hands and in a very human voice he yelled “Shit!!”. Nate took off back into the woods almost as if the Old Deep Northern Suburban Leathbacks high school football team was after him again.

“Come on tribe after him!!” I knew we had momentum on our side and we needed to get to this fool and find out what his deal was.

Next week all will be revealed in my final installment from the hill country!! Until then, Happy Eating-Bri

Brian Schropp on Cuisine

So the bust was set up and ready to go. I had six delicious large pepperoni sticks (from the SECOND pepperoni freezer) tucked in a duffel bag to hand over to Munny Joseph, “Big ” Eddie Jones, and Danny “Elf Boy” Finlay. Scott informed me that if the pepperoni sticks were damaged in any way it would come out of my paycheck (just like the other things I “stole” to gain the trust of these pizza thugs). I told Scott this could possibly add up to me owing him money.

“Guess you will have to work on your days off to make up for it, that’s life Bri,” Scott said harshly. “Now, lift up your shirt.” We were in his office a few hours before the bust was scheduled to happen.

“But-but why?” I was always uncomfortable being undressed in front of the human species.

Scott pulled out an old style micro recorder and some duct tape. “Going to wrap this around you and record the whole conversation in case there is any question from Detective Gee-Temple afterwards.”

“You said you would be acting rightfully under Lankville law after I handed over the pepperoni?”

“Maybe-maybe,” Scott replied. “I sorta looked over some stuff at the courthouse and I’m still not really sure. I have a hard time focusing on words written in paragraphs. No one is going to blame to me though, this is choice pepperoni!!”

From L to R- “Big” Eddie Jones, Munny Joseph, Danny “Elf Boy” Finlay

I raised my arms while he taped the recorder around me. Not only was I going to be walking into a potentially dangerous situation I had no business being in, but now this tape was going to really really hurt when it was time for it to come off.

After squeezing back into my “Pizza-A-Round” shirt, I thought you could clearly see the micro recorder sticking out from my side.

“Just say you have a tumor, you gotta remember these three guys are really dumb even by pizza business standards.”

We went over the game plan yet again. I was supposed to meet Danny “Elf Boy” Finlay at his sleeping hole at 6:10. I had to hold off actually handing over the goods until all three were there. Scott didn’t want any of them getting away and not feeling his wrath. What was I supposed to say if I had to stall for time? Scott recommended things like small girl motel wrestling, glue sniffing, the Lankville drag racing scene, making out with girls. Stuff I knew NOTHING about!! (OK folks you did catch me in a minor lie, I am a fan of small girl motel wrestling). Scott said I was over-thinking the situation and told me not to worry.

“You wanna’ carry a piece with you, Bri?” he asked, as he removed a metal briefcase from beneath his desk.

I patently refused.

​The micro-recorder Scott savagely wrapped around me.

I left by the office “secret door” (which is just a slightly larger but very dirty air duct) and had nothing but worry on my mind. The few hours passed quickly and I was soon walking down some of the worst streets in Deep Southwestern Suburban Lankville towards Finlay’s sleeping hole. The only thing that made me feel safe was knowing Scott was in his car not too far behind with a full arsenal of weapons. Finlay’s address was hard to locate since the numbers on these “houses” were hard to read. Thinking I had finally found the correct place, I knocked on the rotten piece of wood which may have been a door and after a few deep breaths went inside. The interior was dark, it was evening and the idea of somebody actually paying for electricity for this dump seemed like a joke.

“Hello-hello?” I mumbled while stumbling around what I hoped was furniture and not bodies.

“Back here.” I could always recognize the nasally whine of Danny “Elf Boy” Finlay. I felt my way along a wall until I made my way into a “kitchen area” where Finlay sat at a table. The grey light of the evening was coming through an open (there was no glass) window.

He smiled his elvish smile while picking up a dirty beer bottle off the table and taking a swig. “Bring the goods?”

I nodded- lifting up the bag.

“Hand it over and let me see. I can tell by smelling the sticks if it’s from the second pepperoni freezer or not.” He somehow seemed impressed by this skill.

Danny “Elf Boy” Finlay’s sleeping hole.

I remembered what Scott said about stalling until the others were there so I tried my best. “So say Danny, have you ever- you know- had -like-relations with a woman-I mean a girl-I mean a honey? I-I have- don’t get me wrong–it’s just nice you know-laying down together–having a nice talk, stroking each other’s hair—what are your thoughts?” I think I did an okay job.

He took a slow swig from his dirty beer bottle. “Stalling for time Schropp? Was that part of the plan you and Scott came up with?”

Before I even had time to answer the back door was kicked open and in came “Big” Eddie Jones and Munny Joseph with Scott. They had Scott by one of his arms– I hadn’t seen such a shocked expression on my manager’s face before. “I’m sorry Bri, don’t know how they found out?!”

The three pizza thugs laughed. “You think we are idiots, Scott?” Munny said scowling at his manager. “But you’re the one who is the real clown. You think it’s been just us three in on this operation and it’s just pepperoni that’s being taken? Well there’s a fourth member, the real mastermind, who is giving us the low down on what to steal and when.”

Scott got the “Scott look” on his face. “Who?”

Eddie chuckled in his goofy voice. “Martha, the head phone lady! She even heard you guys planning this afternoon and gave us the heads up.”

It was my turn to be shocked. Martha the sassy but sweet lady who did her best to teach me the phones and was always smacking my butt. All the special times I had with her in my short time there, not only the yelling and screaming when I took a wrong order (which was a lot) but the laughs, the tender talks, the sometimes soft cuddling in the back of her car. How could she do this?!!

Picture of my manager Scott relaxing at home.

Scott wasted no time pulling away from the grips of Eddie and Munny and then punching their lights out with just one blow each! Danny’s elven like reflexes acted quickly and he flew up from the table and crawled under an area by the nearby rusted sink. Scott took a gun out from his waistband and quickly walked over and fired a few shots under the sink. He turned around and shook his head. “I think there is a whole tunnel system under the house, damn that kid is fast.”

I asked him what he was going to do with the two others. “I couldn’t give a damn about them right now Bri,” he said while reloading his gun. “There is only one person who is going to face my rage full force and she is working the closing shift right now!!”

If it was anybody else I wouldn’t of cared, but I placed a hand on Scott’s arm. “I know what she has done is inexcusable but please let me talk to her. I promise you will never see her again.”

Scott looked at me with full rage, I thought I was next for a punch. Then his look softened a little. “Alright you have until I figure out what to do with these two chumps over there. Once that’s done I’m heading back to the “Pizza-A-Round” and if she is there I swear to you Bri it’s not going to be a pretty sight.”

I didn’t have very much time and the shop was some distance away. I dropped the duffel bag of pepperoni sticks so it wouldn’t weigh me down and ran as fast as I could. By the time I got there I was in a slow jog and I was a sweaty mess. The phones were ringing off the hook since it was the late evening pizza rush. Martha made her usual fuss when I said I needed to speak with her but she could see by the look in my eyes that it was serious. I gently took her by the hand and led her out into the parking lot. I told Martha how the events of the evening unfolded and how the others ratted her out.

Martha, the real mastermind

“You have to let me explain, I never meant for it to go this far. I needed extra money and—”

I put my hand up to her lips. “You don’t have time to explain, Scott will be on his way soon. You need to go and never show your face here again.”

“I never meant to hurt–”

“Me? You have. Not just because you put me in harm’s way of those pizza thugs but because you are not the woman I thought you were. The woman who found a warm place in my half-human half-bumpkin heart.”

“Can I–”

“Slap my butt one more time? No, we are beyond that.”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

“Don’t worry, there are thousands of pizza places in Lankville. I would suggest somewhere over the border into Southern Lankville. It will be rough going but you will make it. When you get your act cleaned up I only ask that you think of me fondly every once in awhile.” I wiped a small tear from her eye.

In the last rays of the evening light Martha walked out of the “Pizza-A-Round” parking lot with her head slumped down. Yes dear readers the pizza trade is a hard hard business indeed.

BRI

Brian Schropp on Cuisine

A TWO-PART SERIES

The pizza trade can be a hard business- this fact becomes clearer to me each time I work at the “Pizza-A-Round.” My manager, Scott, pulled me into his office last week. “Sit down Bri, we got some serious things to discuss.” He proceeded to take out one of his guns and start fiddling with it. His gun fiddling used to make me nervous, now I know he was just deep in “Scott thought”.

Picture of my manager Scott relaxing at home.

There was a long silence. I did start to wonder if this had anything to do with my performance. I had been recently put in charge of the “dish cleaning division” of the operation. I even had two others under my “managerial expertise”, Oscar and Omar. My “mission statement” was to make sure every dish was clean and get the Lankville Health Department off our backs. It’s been a rough road in achieving this but we’re on our way.

“Is it the dishes Scott?” I finally offered. I sat down in a pizza sauce stained chair.”I’m pretty sure the whole team is using HOT water EVERY TIME–.”

“No-no nothing to do with that- I mean the dishes haven’t been great- but there’s something else.” He took out a folder and smacked it on the desk. “Have you ever heard of a profit and loss statement?”

Since it had nothing to do with actually eating food I had not.

“Well let’s just say that we are in business to make a profit and have less loss. Unfortunately it’s been the other way around recently.”

“Have you tried my mid-morning snack pizza idea yet? I know it’s a little ‘outside the box’ but I’m sure it would be a winner..”

Scott nodded. “Even though that is a brilliant concept, it’s got nothing to do with sales. This loss is coming from the inside, employee theft- plain and simple.”

Needless to say I was taken aback!! I would never think my fellow “co-buddies” (another managerial term I’m trying to incorporate) would do such a thing.

“Not only do I know who is doing it I also know what’s being stolen. It’s pepperoni being swiped out of the third pepperoni freezer.” Scott paused so I could take it all in. “Supposedly it’s a hot item on the Lankville black market. These fools think since it’s from the third pepperoni freezer I wouldn’t notice. But you can’t trick me, I’M SCOTT.”

“Who is it?”

“One of the drivers, ‘Big’ Eddie Jones. Thursday’s prep line chief, Munny Joseph. And groundskeeper/dumpster cleaner, Danny ‘Elf Boy’ Finlay.”

My “mid-morning snack” pizza idea

Inside I was happy. These three in particular were bullies and have tried to make my employment here difficult. I knew Scott was going to make those jerks pay!!

“They’ve been kinda tricky so far Bri, with all three of them working different aspects of the operation I haven’t gotten the proof I need. That’s where you come in, I need for you to gain their trust quickly. Once you have it, you tell these idiots you can supply them with better quality pepperoni from the second pepperoni freezer.”

“What then?”

“Set up a time for you to drop off the goods at a location outside of the store. Once the pepperoni is in their hands I will have the legal Lankville right to do what I need to.”

At this point I was shaking all over. This type of thing wasn’t my cup of tea and I let Scott know it (mainly in a whining, pleading tone).

“I know Bri, but you’re the only one I can trust. Plus with you being on the Lankville Endangered Species list they might not hurt you too bad if caught. The thing we have going for us is that the three are extremely dumb. I think you will gain their trust in no time, the deal will sound so sweet to them that we can set up the bust. THEN I WILL HAVE THEM!” Scott flashed his “bad look” into the work area at the sound of “Big” Eddie Jones coming in for his shift.

It really didn’t take that long for me to gain the trust of these guys. After a few days of mostly embarrassing situations (best left unsaid for purposes of my pride– there were only a few times I lost my pants) they let me hang out with them on their “breaks”. I think they liked the idea of a fourth member they could kick around. Scott had given me the ok to steal a few things if they were watching me (though Scott did say he will take the cost of what I ‘stole’ out of my paycheck). That got them talking to me about their “operation”. After a few times I told them I had access to the second pepperoni freezer and could get them quality stuff. Their eyes widened.

“Why are you doing this?” Danny “Elf Boy” Finlay asked in an unusually nasal voice. “The word was getting around that you were in with Scott.”

From L to R- “Big” Eddie Jones, Munny Joseph, Danny “Elf Boy” Finlay

“I was,” I replied while crawling on my hands and knees (they were making me crawl around on all fours acting like a dog by the dumpsters while they flicked their cigarette butts at me). “But that jerk has been treating me bad recently. I guess the whole part-man, part-bumpkin thing wore off quick.” Scott had actually started to treat me rough again just to give the illusion of some tension between us. I was yelled at, threatened with a gun a few times and even once had my head dunked in some oily dish water.

“The best way to get revenge is to get him where it hurts, in his pocketbook!” This gem came from Munny who seem to be the ringleader. “When do you think you can get that pepperoni for us?”

“Tomorrow-bark-bark-as a punishment Scott is making me do the pepperoni count in that freezer.”

“Well you better get us some choice cuts or else there will be hell to pay. And be slick about it, we have a pretty smooth operation going on here. That fool has no idea what we are up to.”

“No worries fellas, I know he doesn’t look at those reports very closely.”

“Good, once you are done with your shift and you have the stuff meet us at this address.” Munny threw a scrap piece of paper at me. “Now eat our cigarette butts like a good boy.”

They stood around and chuckled while I did that nasty deed. Little did they know Scott and I would have the last chuckle come tomorrow evening now that a time and place had been set up.

Please come back for part two where you will really learn the dark side of this pizza trade!! Until then keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas!

BRI

By Brian Schropp

Brian Schropp on Cuisine

So the day started with the phones at the “Pizza-A-Round” blaring and flashing all around me. I walked slowly over to them in a daze knowing the first call I took would send me into the downward spiral of the everyday workforce. My manager Scott gave me a supportive push from behind and a “Hurry up!! These fat teenagers want their pizza before school starts!”

An order form was slapped in front of me and my hand forced onto the ringing receiver; I picked up and the true chaos began. Order after order from what Scott wisely guessed- fat high schoolers wanting some delicious pizza pie before a delay in starting their undervalued education. They talked quick and with that Southwestern Deep Northern Suburban drawl which is hard to understand- I scribbled down whatever I heard the best I could. Pepperoni, double pepperoni, pepperoni on one side and on the other side nothing but crust, pepperoni in between the cheese then cut up pepperoni on top, these fat kids wanted it all sorts of ways. Then the deals and coupons, the “Pizza-A-Round” had no less than 42 different promotions going on at once. Martha, the woman who helped work my row of phones and was put in charge of “coaching” me was none too pleased with my order sheets.

Martha (not wanting her picture taken).

“What the hell is all this scribble!! Haven’t you been listening to anything I have been barking at you?!!!”
The truth was I really wasn’t. She seemed to be from Deep Southeastern Deep Northern Suburban Lankville and their accents are a bit on the harsh side. I mumbled some apologizes with the promise of picking things up faster.

“You better or Scott will not be too pleased. He told you about the guns, right?”-
I nodded while picking up for the next order.
“And the picture with the hand?” She smirked. “You think that was an accident?”
With the horror of that picture flooding my mind again, I accidentally snapped the pencil I was taking the orders with and had to put the call on hold (which I hung up on by accident).
“Jesus Christ” Martha muttered under her breath (just like my Mom does!!)

For the next twenty minutes the orders continued to flood in. I could hear from shouts by the oven and prep stations that some orders were wrong and undoubtedly some were mine. When I mentioned this to Martha she said they were probably all mine. When the phones died down Martha took me to Scott’s office where he was reviewing the accuracy of my orders. I could tell by his slight head shaking it wasn’t good.

“Well, Bri out of the 108 orders you took in the last hour and a half only 8% of them were any sort of accurate. We still have drivers on routes trying to figure addresses out and customers complaining about wrong orders. Who the hell orders a pizza with just half pepperoni and the other half just crust?”

I tried to explain that that was a lot of orders to take in just an hour and a half.

“I know I kinda threw you to the wolves but that was just a minor rush because of a school delay. The lunch rush is going to be four times as bad!!”

“You’re going to be really thrown to the wolves then!!” Martha said, putting in her two cents worth while slapping my backside (which she had been doing the whole morning– it was making me a bit uncomfortable).

“Listen, maybe we will put you off the phones until after the lunch rush and put you on the prep station for now.” Scott then lifted his shirt slightly to reveal a handgun sticking out from his waistband.- “And hey, let’s start to really try and pick things up. Remember, I have guns.”

So I was moved to the prep area where I was introduced to Chet. Chet was real polite to Scott’s face but started bad mouthing him once he was gone. “That dude thinks he real tough and all but without his guns he couldn’t do jack shit.”

Chet, who promised we would be “best co-worker pals”.

I asked him if he ever saw the picture of the hand.

He looked at me for a few moments. “You really think that picture’s real? He made that hand after hours to scare people. I told you he’s a real shit.” Chet put his arm around me. “Don’t worry about him or anybody else around here, stick with me we are going to become best co-worker pals.”

He showed me the toppings area which had no less than 73 different toppings. The area was a huge mess. “Scott is always getting onto me about keeping clean. But how can you after a big rush like that? And hey if anything falls on the ground we have a five second rule that it’s still good to use.”

Chet said we had to restock the toppings area. He walked me to the vast mazes of walk-in refrigerators and freezers in the back. I asked if we were going to need a jacket or gloves or anything like that, he just shook his head and put his arm around me again. “No way buddy, we will be quick.”

He took me to the coldest freezer first, the pepperoni freezer. “For some reason all these asshole customers love it.” He opened the freezer door and cold freezing air came billowing out, I backed up a little and rubbed my arms for warmth. “Don’t be a chicken-shit, just walk in there and grab some pepperoni sticks.”

I walked slowly up and stuck my head in, there was a small light on because the door was open. I saw shelves upon shelves of pepperoni in various states of frozen. It was almost like a winter wonderland.

And then, suddenly, I felt a foot kick my backside and I fell face-first into the frost. I was able to turn myself around on the slippery floor to see Chet laughing with his hands on his waist. I started to shake not only from the cold but from the sense of dread that was now filling me.

“That was for my Uncle Hank, you’ve done a real number on him recently but now it’s time for a little revenge.” It was then that I noticed his full name tag “Chet Cameron”, this was the nephew of Hank Cameron, Manager of Foodville and my sworn nemesis. “Now you are going to sit in there and think about what you done.”

He slammed the door laughing madly. I was enclosed in darkness and the freezing cold. It took no time for the bitter chill to set in and I curled myself into a ball and tried my best to keep warm. I tried not to think about what would happen when I was found, I needed to put my thoughts into staying alive. Time passed one icey moment at a time, I must of been in there for hours. I picked up a frozen stick of pepperoni to gnaw on once the hunger pains set in but it did little good. My thoughts turned to stories my Dad told me of my Great Uncle Randolf who fought in the front lines of the “Great Lankville War of 1947” and how he had to suffer through below zero temperatures. I now knew Great Uncle Randolf’s pain. Time passes more slowly and after awhile I knew death was close. Then I heard the sweet song of the bumpkins and a light, a beautiful white light.

The light turned out to be my manager Scott opening up the freezer door and the outside light coming in blinding me. “There the hell you are!! What are you doing, taking a nap on the job?!!”

Picture of my manager Scott relaxing at home.

He yanked me out of the pepperoni freezer. I tried to tell him how I was pushed in there and how I was close to death.

“You were only in there 15 minutes, 20 tops,” Scott’s eyes bore into me. “And the freezer can open from the other side. It would be a death trap if it couldn’t!!”

“It never occurred to me that the freezer door could open that way,” I said, still dazed from my ordeal.

“That’s it,” Scott said grabbing me by the arm. “I’m taking you out back by the dumpsters to have a real talk with you!!”

For the second time today I saw my life ending in a horrible fashion. If this is how “real” full time employment is supposed to be, I really don’t want any part of it. We made it to the back door before his cell phone went off, luckily he stopped to answer it.

I could tell by his end of the conversation that he was talking to the owner (the old friend of my dad’s) and it was about me. Scott pleaded his case for “letting me go” but it fell on deaf ears. He was given a reason for keeping me on and it seemed to shock him a great deal but he wouldn’t let me know. Whatever the reason was he seemed to lighten up a bit with me, he grabbed my shoulder slightly hard “Listen Bri, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. The pizza trade can be tough to learn especially for someone like you. Let’s put you on washing dishes for the rest of the day and start again “new” the next time you are in.” I did learn he made a deal with the owner just to keep me on part-time instead of full-time which will give me time to write more for the paper!!! And it turned out I did the dishes wrong that day, you need to use HOT water not cold to make them clean.

My part time gig isn’t turning out to be that bad, I’m learning things ‘slowly but surely”. Chet apologized for his behavior but still plays “pranks” on me and Martha is still slapping my backside (but I’m sorta enjoying that now). Anyways, I will have more adventures for you soon from the “Pizza-A-Round” plus all my other food critic stories you have come to love.

So until next time, keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas.
BRI

By Brian Schropp

Well, it was bound to happen sometime. I knew the game was up when BOTH my Mom and Dad sat me down at the table.

“Son, we are just going to be as straightforward with this as possible. We found you a job, you start tomorrow and you’re going to keep this one.”

” But Dad I—”

“A PAYING job,” my Mom burst in, knowing I was going to bring up my food critic gig for this paper.
“You will work forty hours a week and every cent you earn will go back to pay for the lawsuit Hank Cameron won.” (YES, this did happen but through a court order I am not allowed to write details).

“But Dad I–”

“No more about him being a jerk. The Judge said you had to let it go and also stay four hundred feet away from him at all times,” my Mom chimed in again with a steel-glazed look in her eyes.

There were a few moments of awkward silence.

“So where am I heading to?” I asked.

“I happen to know the owner of “Pizza ‘A’ Round” which is on the Southwest side off Deep Northern Suburban Lankville Plaza. In fact, he is an old college friend of mine.”

I dropped my head on the table and groaned. “That’s the worst pizza place around. Only the really poor and people who don’t know any better order from there. I will lose all my cred working at a place like that.”

‘My old friend is taking you on knowing the reputation who have made for yourself. He’s sticking his neck out. If his insurance company knew he was hiring you his rates would skyrocket. You will go in there, do the job, do whatever they tell you in fact.”

“Please guys I beg, I am delicate— you know, other relatives say so.”

“Jesus Christ,” my Mom muttered under her breath.

“You will be ready to go by 8:30 tomorrow morning.”

Waking up that early!!! I knew in my heart this was going to be a disaster. I tossed and turned in bed that night thinking about starting this job– even wearing my “footie” PJs offered me little relief. I tried my CB to get a hold of my friend Trucker Joe but he was clear across Lankville and came in scrambled. With no one to turn to, I lay in dread with thoughts about the horrors that awaited me.

The next morning came quicker than I hoped. I heard my parents and siblings get up and start getting ready. This was the time I usually thought about what type of breakfast sandwich I would be having or what daytime game show I would watch after everyone would leave. But not any more, I was entering the real world.
Finally the knock came at my basement apartment door and my Dad stuck his head in– “Time to get up now.”

After he left I slowly got up and dressed into my “Pizza ‘A’ Round” standard uniform. I endured the snickers of my fellow siblings as my head hung low at the breakfast table. There was a very slight concern when I stated I wasn’t hungry but I forced down a strawberry toaster pastry for the long morning ahead. Then it was off in the car fighting the traffic and listening to the “witty banter” of Lankville’s favorite morning DJ’s on 102.3 “The Beat”. I could have still been in my bathrobe microwaving my third bacon egg biscuit but alas.

My father dropped me off right at the front door of the “Pizza ‘A’ Round”. There were no speeches, no promises– he sped off while I walked to the front door. The place didn’t open for a few hours so the door was locked, I tried the handle a few times out of sheer lack of not knowing what to do. After a few minutes of just standing there, a slightly large and scary man noticed me and came to the door. “Hey, new guy! You’re late!” Tension already at the workplace, I started shaking slightly and mumbled about the door being locked.

My manager Scott has this picture of himself on his desk.

“You didn’t see the buzzer next to the door?”

It was then that I noticed the buzzer next to the door. His eyes bore into me like the rage of a thousand burning suns. “Just get in here.”

We went inside and into a small office. He said his name was Scott and was the manager of the place, the owner’s “right hand man” so to speak. “Before we start anything Bri, the paperwork, the business of pizza- making, the art of the sale I need to ask you one question. How do you feel about gun control?”

I am in my heart of hearts a truly liberal man. I believe that most difficulties could be resolved with a nice chat over breakfast sandwiches instead of violence. But I saw the picture on his desk and knew what my answer was going to be.

“You can’t really have enough guns,” I blurted out quickly. “I mean, you never know who will attack you or how many might attack at one time.”

His eyes bore into me again to see if I was telling the truth. Somehow, I passed. “Yeah, especially South Lankvillians– you can’t trust them.”

He then rattled on about guns for a few minutes. I zoned him out for awhile and took a look out the office window into the pizza place. To be honest, the industrial complex that laid before me was a little intimidating. The pizza oven was huge and roared with life. The puzzling topping stations– one for pizza and a whole other one for subs. The dough-making area– there was already a person there slapping and whirling it in the air like a skilled circus performer. The row of telephones which at this early hour was already ringing. I was going to have to learn all of this!!

Scott could tell I had lost focus on his rant. He placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed slightly hard. “Just remember, I’m the boss around here and I have guns.”

We walked out of the office and over to the ovens. “So Bri, I haven’t even asked you yet, have you ever worked in a pizza place before? Handled one of these ovens? One of these bad boys?”

I tried to explain about being a notable food critic for the Lankville paper and my long history of enjoying delivery pizza. He stopped me after awhile.

“Have you ever worked a real job before?”

I told him about various part part-time jobs I had had. “Pete’s Slacks Emporium” (probably the longest running job) and “The Jingle Jangle” (which sold the little bells you could put on your Santa hat at Xmas time).

He shook his head slightly. “Thought you haven’t, can always smell you guys out. I once had a guy in here much like you not making anything of his life and thought he could handle the pizza trade. We made the mistake of putting him on the ovens the first day. I need to show you a picture of what happened to his hand. I’m sorry but you need to realize the seriousness of this job.”

He took out a picture and was truly horrified.

The picture Scott showed me.

“Poor bastard didn’t stand a chance. The real shame of it all was the burn looked so much like cheese it was accidentally sent with a pizza.”

I told Scott I was feeling a bit whoozy and needed a small break. He shook his head slightly yet again and nodded over to the phones. “The phones for some reason have started ringing early. Probably school has been delayed and these damn fat high schoolers want a pizza before going. Sorry Bri, no time to really train you. Just going to have to throw you in there.”

It was then I realized that the phones I noticed from Scott’s office were only the first row of telephones. There were three other rows where a number of people were already dashing about answering and taking orders.

I slowly made my way over to start—-

Next article- Pizza Blues By The Slice Pt.2 “My Work day Begins”

By Brian Schropp

BRIAN SCHROPP ON CUISINE

So my Dad and I sat down the other day and had one of our famous “heart to heart” talks. Holding down a job and contributing to the family income is indeed not a strong suit of mine. Exacerbated by the legal strain I have put on the family recently, I was told “something must break.” My Dad in his “infinite wisdom” came up with what he called a “Family Service Plan” in which I would go see the neglected Schropp relatives that the others didn’t have time for in their “busy schedules.” I agreed.

The first on my dad’s list was Great Pap Pap Schropp at the nearby retirement facility. I stressed to my Dad there was a reason Great Pap Pap was neglected– the fact of the matter is that he isn’t a nice man. PLUS, out of all the great-great grandchildren, he liked me the least. My Dad held firm, I was to spend the afternoon with him and have lunch. The lunch part got my attention, I had begged and pleaded with my folks on many past visits to try their cafeteria with no success. Now was my chance!!

Dad dropped me off at the retirement facility’s front entrance a short time later. As I started to hop out of the minivan, my head was swimming with what food delights I might find inside. My Dad stopped me short by grabbing my arm. “I’m trusting you not to mess this up.” I looked him right in the eye. “No mess ups this time Dad, I promise.”

I walked in and told the receptionist who I was there to see, she rolled her eyes at the mention of Great Pap Pap’s name and gave me his room number. I knew his room instantly when I heard the ruckus and shouting coming from the other side of the door. A female attendant stormed out and quickly passed me grumbling about not getting paid enough. I took a deep breath, braced myself and then entered the room.

My Great Pap Pap frowned at the sight of me. “What the hell are you doing here?” I told him about the “Family Service Plan”.

Great Pap Pap Schropp

He shook his head. “Well, you look goofy as ever.”

I had no comeback for this.

There were a few moments of awkward silence, “Well, have you even kissed a girl yet?”

I tried to tell him of my brief love affair a number of years ago when I was twenty-four but he just shook his head again.

Another few moments of silence.

“Are you still writing words for the paper?”

I tried to tell him how rewarding it was writing for the Lankville paper but he soon cut me off.

“Guess that’s something. When I was your age I already had a family which was almost grown, served in two wars and owned my own roller skate repair shop. Not sure what’s wrong with you but you’re sure a disappointment to the family name—”

I sort of tuned him out and let him babble on for awhile. When I thought the time was right I asked, “Hey can we check out the cafeteria and get some lunch?” I then immediately asked him what type of food the cafeteria normally had and what he could recommend.

“Most of the food tastes like cardboard and is bland. Not sure what you are expecting.”

My heart sank a little but I kept myself optimistic. Maybe he was just being overly cynical.

My Great Pap Pap and I set forth to the other side of the facility where the cafeteria was located. Along the way he would introduce me to fellow residents as his “disappointment” (with a chuckle). After walking for what seemed like an eternity and getting no closer to the cafeteria, Great Pap Pap finally admitted he was lost in the great maze of hallways. I really wasn’t paying attention to where we were going– I was thinking about what food delights I might be having and admiring all the nice floral paintings on the walls.

He slumped in a nearby chair and said he wasn’t moving. “You can go on and find the damn place if you like. I’m just going to sit here and think about how much you went wrong until someone finds me and takes me back to my room. No need to come to my room again. I will tell your Dad you spent the whole afternoon with me. Nothing personal I’m just getting tired of looking at your dopey face.”

Nothing personal taken!!  With a wave goodbye I was off!

The hunger pains were getting deep, it was almost one, I never had lunch so late.

I tried to retrace my steps but found myself deeper into the complex– one hallway looking like another. The residents I encountered offered little help, usually being lost themselves or mistaking me for a relative. The hunger pains were getting deep, it was almost one, I never had lunch so late. But soon the faint smell of ham and green beans came to me and I knew I was on the right track. I came to big double doors at the end of the hall. Feeling very faint I rushed through them.

On the other side was a kitchen in the state of lunch time kitchen craziness, Large women in hairnets moved swiftly around carrying oversized pots of steaming food and pouring them into large containers. The noise, the steam of the food, the clank of the pots, the yelling, reminded me of a factory just as much as a cafeteria. I realized I had found the kitchen entrance not the main entrance and turned to leave but was grabbed by the collar by the largest of the women. “About time you got here, Not good being late for your first day. You might not get paid, you know.”

I tried telling this woman it was a mistake but she was too busy to notice. She forcibly slapped a hair net on me and an apron as well. I soon found myself mashing potatoes with another woman named Selma. This woman knew what she was doing– I never seen such force and quickness put into mashing potatoes before. I clearly wasn’t able to hold my own and after a few short minutes the large woman from before grabbed me by the collar again.

The kitchen at the Deep Northern Suburban Retirement Facility Cafeteria.

“What’s wrong with you?!! Haven’t you worked in food service before or even mashed a potato?!!”

Before I could even try to explain that she had the wrong person there was a honking by the delivery door.

“Finally the chicken salad is here!! Go help bring that delivery in– at least you can’t mess that up!!”

I went to the delivery door and tried to pull up the chain but failed. The van kept honking. Selma walked by shaking her head and said I had to unbolt the door first. After finding said bolt I hoisted up the chain while the honking reached a fever pitch. I opened the van delivery doors and started to pull out the plastic tubs of chicken salad. A voice which sounded familiar growled, “about time, I don’t have all day waiting around”. After pulling out two tubs I saw who was sitting in the front of the van and who now could see me in his rear view mirror. The chicken salad was supplied by Foodville.

I could see Hank Cameron’s face twist in furious anger from the mirror. “WHY YOU–”

I turned around and bolted as fast as I could bumping off of a few of the cafeteria ladies in the process. I heard him running up the steps and through the receiving door in hot pursuit. In a blind panic I ran towards the nearest door knocking over pots of food, dishes and a few other ladies along the way. I found myself in the main cafeteria area as the alarms and panic sirens went off. Everything erupted into a mass of chaos much like what happened at the Xmas party at the lodge expect this looked like slow motion because everyone was so old. I passed my Great Pap Pap sitting at a table gnawing on some fried chicken ignoring what was going on around him.

“Hey I thought you were going back to your room!!”

Hank Cameron (unflattering close-up file photo)

“Just a ruse Bri, to get you away from me. I thought I got you lost enough in this damn place that you’d never find the cafeteria. And you better step out of the way. Some fool is leaping right towards you.”

I felt Hank Cameron brush my shoulder as I dodged out of the way and he landed right smack on the table in front of Great Pap Pap knocking his chicken away. There was a few second stare down but then my Great Pap Pap punched Hank Cameron square in the nose knocking him out!! Who knew he still had that in him!!

Security soon came and got a handle on the situation. As I waited in the”control room” for my dad to pick me up (my hands were shaking} they were kind enough to bring me a plate of food!! I clearly avoided the chicken salad since it was from Foodville but the other offerings, especially the “denture approved” honey bake ham was a delight. I could also tell the mashed potatoes were Selma’s, so smooth!! I said to the lead security officer (Marv I think it was) that I couldn’t wait to come back and properly try the food here. He said odds are that I probably won’t be welcomed back but we will see!!
Until next time keep your mind and mouth open new ideas. Happy eating!!-Bri