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SCHROPP INVESTIGATES: Vegan Pizza
By Brian Schropp
It was a few nights ago around bedtime, I was in my ‘basement bachelor pad’ stirring up my strawberry milk nightcap when I heard whispering by the window. “Hey Bri, are you up buddy?” Of course it was none other than my former manager, now ‘pizza brother’, Scott Pizzaman.
“Sneak around the backdoor and I’ll let you in.” Scott is always real respectful when it comes to dealing with my home and parents which you, my dear readers, might find hard to believe given he is a being of total chaos. Why this is I could not tell you, I’m just glad he hasn’t drunkenly driven his car into our house like a certain other individual whose name appears frequently in this paper.
Once I was able to hustle him inside (careful not to wake my folks) and down the steps to my pad, he slammed a funky-smelling pizza box on my table. My curiosity and stomach rumbled over what lay before me, I started to lift the lid but Scott quickly slammed it back down. “Be careful Bri, it’s not what you think.” He answered my questioning gaze quickly. “Remember the rumors going around the pizza industry recently? Something that was brewing on the fringes of society, something so radical, so fucking crazy, it was going to change the life of every pizza worker in existence? Well, I think it’s here–”
I remembered these rumors well. In fact, I recalled one of Scott’s old pizza buddies who came into ‘The Round’ right before I left and the look of horror on his face and fright in his eyes. It will be something I won’t soon forget. “I have seen it” he muttered, his face sweaty and pale, “I have tasted it–“. Then the guy collapsed right there in front of everybody! Scott dragged his buddy into his office and was able to get him to come around after pouring huge amounts of vodka down his throat. The conversation they had afterward was long and tense.
I stared at the funky-smelling box in front of me before whispering “So this…this is the anti-pizza?”
Scott wiped his forehead with a well-used pizza rag and took a long swig of vodka from a hip flask. “Sure is. I forget it has some real name, begins with a ‘V’ or somethin’ like that.”
“A pizza that’s supposed to be a pizza but yet it isn’t,” I whispered before saying, “Where did you get it?”
“If you can believe this shit, some new restaurant in the Middle Northern District. You know that cleaned up area where those rich liberal types now live?. Supposed to be a group of hippie brothers or somethin’ who are running it. Hippie but for some fucking reason they look clean as a whistle. I think their last name is ‘Vegan’ or some shit like that.”
The monstrosity– the “Anti-Pizza”.
I was pretty sure this ‘type’ of pizza was called vegan not the name of the brothers but I wasn’t going to correct him. “So what are we going to do with it?”
After a dramatic pause– “Taste it, we need to know what we’re up against. That’s why I came to see you, if there was a stomach that could handle this monstrosity, it’s yours.”
“But if what they say is true–with no real cheese, no real crust, how can it–how can it–?”
“Just open the box slowly, Bri, ever so slowly–”
Of course the first thing that hits you is the smell, some rank foul odor which was a cross between rotting vegetables and a sewer. I have included a picture of this ‘pizza’ so you can witness the horror with me. The bland, unappealing color palate which hurts not only your eyes and stomach but your very soul. I did my best not to vomit immediately.
I went to get my extra sleek pizza cutter from the half-kitchenette. “No Bri, you can’t risk using your utensils. I bought a plastic cutter from the dollar store.”
It was almost impossible to cut through the so called ‘crust’ (it was like a hardened crater from a distant planet). Scott kept muttering that the crust was made from ‘dark magic.’ Somehow using more physical effort than I prefer, I had two slices ready.
We looked at the slices sitting rigid and firm on paper plates (also from the dollar store) for a long while. “They don’t even sag on the plate” Scott noted. “No grease, I guess.” It was agreed both of us were just stalling and the time had come. We each grabbed a plate and prayed for the best.
Looking back it was probably not a wise idea to down a whole slice at once. I remember the hardness of the crust almost breaking my teeth. That horrid smell enveloping my senses from the inside. The taste of the so-called toppings which had the consistency of wet slimy bread left out in a rainstorm. The ‘sauce’ which was beyond describing, the best I can do is to say it was something along the lines of using a moldy bottle of ‘Thousand Lankville Island Sauce’ mixed with a stinky egg. I was overwhelmed– my mouth became instantly dry, desperately crying out for some sweet strawberry milk. I went to grab my plastic cup on the table but was totally disoriented, I knocked the cup off the table and onto the floor. As the vile slice slid down my throat the very air around me became hot and uncomfortable. After an intense flash of light where all the colors around the room became bright and vivid, I myself joined the spilled glass on the floor.
I’m not sure how long I was down for, the noises coming from my small half bathroom must have brought me around. The cries and howling coming from Scott Pizzaman made me shutter. It was like a fierce wild wolf being made to taste dog food for the first time. The other sounds made it clear that the ingredients were not agreeing with his stomach, I cringed thinking about the mess my mom would have to clean up tomorrow. I sat up, putting the nearby plastic cup on my forehead to help me from sweating. Soon the bathroom door opened and Scott came crawling out with his pants half on. Vast stink trails raced past him and into the air. He crawled halfway to me before saying ,”Bri, Bri, I think those damn Vegan brothers are trying to poison us!”
Some time later after composing ourselves, we snuck out of the house and headed for the Northern Suburban Landfill to dispose of the rest of this ‘pizza’. We thought the landfill was the best place– it would be safely away from others. After climbing the fence (with some help from Scott) the perfect spot was found and the bonfire was soon blazing. Under the somewhat starry night the box was thrown in with a silent prayer that the fire would destroy the thing that dwelled inside. Scott and I sat for a long time around the firelight before he turned to me with what I call ‘The Scott Look’. “Bri, I really think those dudes tried to poison us. Who knows what they might try and pull next. We can’t have this so called pizza in the community destroying lives. We gotta do something.”
But what could we do against such evil? Find out next week in Pt.2 of this amazing story!!
Brian Schropp won a trophy for this report.
Scott Answers Your Pizza Questions
By Scott, Manager of the Pizza A-Round
Scott is the manager of the Pizza A’Round.
How can I make a quality pizza at home?
Dr. Nickelbee
Deep Northern Suburbs
Dear Doc,
Listen, as a pizza professional, I sure as shit don’t recommend that. No matter what kind of oven you got at home, it just ain’t going to match the stainless steel motherfucker we got at the Round. Plus, the stuff you buy from the grocery store is garbage, man– second rate. Hell, third rate. I’d get that idea out of your head, Doc.
SCOTT
Where did pizza originate?
Carlton Zupo
Lankville Standard Sand Beach
Dear Carlton,
Good question. The history of pizza is very interesting. The word “pizza” shares its origins with the word “pita” and as we all know, the pita comes from Great Puddly Island. It’s about the only thing that place has produced worth a shit. I had a couple of Puddly Islanders working at the Round back in the day– man, those two wouldn’t have been able to find their own asses if they had sleigh bells tied to them. Anyway, in the late eighteenth century, the word “pizza” was a kind of pie, cooked in olive oil by the Puddly’s in a primitive brick or stone oven. It’s unclear exactly when the pizza migrated over to Lankville but it was probably something around 1900. That’s when you started to see little carts and kiosks pop up and then, ultimately, shops like the Round.
Now, I didn’t know any of this shit– my boy Bri researched your question on his Mom’s computer. You should see this thing man– it’s tan and has this screen that’s one of those huge alien head motherfuckers. Thing weighs like fifty pounds. It’s hysterical.
SCOTT
Is pizza bad for your health?
Leonard Kings
Snowy Lake Region
Dear Leonard,
Let me ask you something. You plan on living to be 100 and shit? You want to be one of those sad motherfuckers sitting in a bed in some nursing home? You want it to take twenty minutes for you to walk ten steps?
Life’s about taking risks, man. And there ain’t no more enjoyable risk than eating pizza. So, get up out of your baby crib, man. Grab life (and pizza) by the balls.
SCOTT
Scott will continue to answer your pizza questions in further issues.
Cuisine Scribe Schropp Wins Singing Contest
By Lloyd Byas-Kirk
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
Lankville Daily News cuisine writer and Pizza A’Round employee Brian Schropp has won a Deep Northern Suburbs singing contest, sources are confirming.
Brian Schropp was the winner.
“Contestants had to submit a sample video of their singing,” said contest moderator Jennie Departments. “The panel felt that [Brian’s] song was the best. We will be presenting him with his $100 gift certificate for a Vitiello Decorative Ham in the next few days.”
The panel later noted that of the sixteen submissions received, Schropp’s was the only video which was not completely lewd.
“Still, we feeled [sic] that the video showed great promise,” Departments averred.
“I was trying to express in song the workings of my advanced taste palette,” noted Schropp, who was interviewed during a short break from his shift at the Pizza A’Round. “Fortunately, the phone manager at the Round, Stephanie, was able to bring her camcorder and edit the video. I think it came out really nice.”
Schropp was asked if Stephanie was a possible love interest to which the writer and singer became visibly red-faced and embarrassed and eventually collapsed into a bush.
When Schropp was revived, he commented, “I’m sorry about that Lloyd. I…” Schropp began to giggle sheepishly and the interview was ended prematurely.
The winning video may be seen here:
BUYER BEWARE!! AN URGENT WARNING FROM BRIAN SCHROPP
Brian Schropp
Beloved Lankville Columnist Brian Schropp is not to be confused with UFOlogist Brian Schropp or ‘The Power of Tolerable’ Brian Schropp or the Brian Schropp who was trying to sell those berries or the Brian Schropp from Pineapple Town Island.
Yes my dear sweet readers, I have seen it. I still shake looking at the picture of this man on the disk cover– this “other” who happens to be named Brian Schopp but is not me. Come on folks, are you really fooled? Do you think he even looks like this handsome devil? I guess if you hold it up at an angle and squint very VERY hard he may sorta resemble me in a vague way. Personally, I think the UFOlogist Brian Schropp looks more like me than that fool. Anyways, that is not the point here– I need the readers of this paper to understand that I DID NOT PUT OUT THIS ABOMINATION OF A MUSIC PROJECT CALLED ‘A LITTLE PIZZA IN THE NIGHT’. This is a total scam by that no good EASTERN Lankville guy trying to use my name to make a few bucks. Really folks, you think I would come up with a title like that? You know the creative juices that run through this half bumpkin fueled mind– please, give me a little credit!! And the disk just sounds horrible, anyone with ANY working knowledge of the pizza business would be able to tell this dude has no clue. It’s called a ‘Pizza Eggwich’ not a ‘Egg Sandwich with Pizza Sauce’. Then you have track 5 entitled ‘That Snack Pizza Would Look Better Rubbed On Your Body’. Is that supposed to mean a ‘Mid Morning Snack Pizza’? COME ON– AT LEAST GET THE TERMINOLOGY CORRECT!!
DO NOT BUY ANYTHING FROM THIS MAN!
How an ace reporter like Bernie Keebler could be fooled by this spectacle is beyond me. I guess it just shows how good of a scam artist those Eastern Lankville lowlifes can be. So please, if you have bought this despicable piece of trash in whatever format please return it for a FULL refund. And if you bought it from that record store where Larry Klacik works, please give him some extra grief. That bed wetter should know better. I understand that all downloaded copies on a ‘Reckoner Exactra 2.0’ can be returned using the code ‘SASSYBOY22LIKES!!!{%$#}LIPSTICK’ (you may need to type it in your Reckoner a few times).
I guess in light of this whole mess I will share some news which I was hoping to keep under wraps for at least a little while longer. I, meaning yours truly the cuisine writer Brian Schropp, have actually been working on a concept pizza album!! The MUCH better name for the project- ‘Hey Buddy, Can You Spare Me A Slice?’ is truly a visionary endeavor into the world of the pizza business. As always, the ideas are coming fast and furious so this might even turn into a double album or a series of works to come out monthly!! My ultimate aim is for you the listener to understand not only the joy of eating something so cosmically wonderful as a pizza pie but also understanding the passion and hard work which goes into making it. Not any of this lovemaking nonsense– any true pizza maker doesn’t have time for that! Like any piece of art which is wayyyyy ahead of its time, my words can not do it justice. The quality of this masterpiece will speak for itself.
The true work of genius.
The following link: https://soundcloud.com/devon-fick/pizza-around-call is a little sampling to wet your appetite- please remember take into account that this is in the very early development stage.
So, please keep your ears peeled to the streets to hear about this exciting release from the REAL Brian Schropp. My hope is to at least get it out in some sort of cassette-type format very soon!!
Until next time folks, you know what to do with your mouth and mind. Happy eating!!-BRI
Feeling So-So Alive!
By Brian Schropp
Brian Schropp returns to the Lankville Daily News!
Yes my gentle readers, it has been awhile. Between the busy hours at ‘The Round’, my new part-time gig (mandatory by Scott) selling pizza pouches, and my recent excursion to the Lankville Islands to learn the true origins of pizza sauce, I have sadly had no time to write my famous cuisine article. The fine editors of this paper (knowing deep down inside that I have written some of the finest food pieces EVER) have left it open for me to write whenever the need ‘tickles my fancy’. And that time I am happy to say is now.
You might be wondering what an acclaimed writer like myself would write about after a long absence. A story about being on the road selling pizza pouches? Maybe a thrilling adventure in the islands which would lead into insights on the very mysterious occult beginnings of pizza sauce. Well, no sir, I have nothing of that sort. This pretty sweet tale just happened a few weeks back during an ordinary Friday night shift at ‘The Round’.
There was the usual chaos happening. The good news for me was that I was scheduled off at 10PM. You got it, no closing shift for me! Hopefully a sweet rest at home maybe watching some well-deserved scrambled porn off the Lankville cable. The bad news was no one in my family would pick me up. This does occasionally happen with the end result of me riding my scooter home. But not tonight, it was pretty dark out and I had worked a double shift making my supple legs weak and wobbly. That meant only one alternative- beg/whine to Scott for a driver to drop me off.
“Fuck Bri, we’ve got too much shit going on for me to figure out who is going closest to your house.” Scott was in the ‘command center’ next to the pizza oven doing twenty things at once. It’s truly an amazing sight to see!!
“Hey Scott, I think my deliveries are going by his place,” chimed in Ronnie LaHoyt, one of the drivers who always seems to be screwing up and then trying to get back on Scott’s good side.
Scott flashed him one of his world famous looks while Ronnie was loading his pizzas into the delivery bag. “You better not be playing me Ronnie. Make your deliveries first, then drop off Bri as fast as you can. NO FUCKING AROUND!”
‘Yeah-yeah, no worries, Scott.”
With a cool tilt of his head beckoning me forth, I was running to catch up with Ronnie as he left through the front door.
Now let me say this, I think Ronnie La Hoyt drives a pretty cool car. Some say it’s just an old outdated sports car which could could be true, I know next to nothing about cars. All I do know is it’s super fast and handles real smoothly. I feel a certain thrill when I’m riding with him. His ‘devil may care’ attitude about speeding down residential streets, the hum of the engine, the blasting of 70’s arena rock. I feel so—so—-ALIVE!!
Noted pizza delivery man Ronnie La Hoyt.
He sped into my neighborhood taking out a few super squirrels in the process. The car stopped with a sudden jolt and half parked on the curb somewhere on Crestmoor Ave. Ronnie turned the rear view mirror towards him so he could check his hair. “I’ll be back in a second Bri, just sit back and relax.”
With that he popped out of the car and headed up towards the nearest house. What’s going on? He didn’t even take the pizzas!!
The porch light turned on and a woman stepped out smiling. It took me a moment to recognize her. Shelly was her name, an attractive twenty something who’s husband, Dale, is a trucker (like Joe!!!) who is gone most of the time. There may be something wrong with Shelly’s joints since I have heard my Mom use the word ‘loose’ a lot when speaking about her with others in the neighborhood.
Both were mighty happy to see each other, smiling and laughing while going inside. I pondered for a moment what the stop was for– did she need help moving something because of her joint problem? Ms. Burgee lived a few doors down, did she receive some of her world class meatballs as a gift and was now sharing it with Ronnie (without me!!).
Looking down at the rapidly cooling delivery bag I knew a big problem was brewing. I had missed my second break at work because of the craziness and I was now very hungry. My stomach was rumbling as it took in the sweet aromas issuing forth. Seconds seemed like minutes, minutes seemed like days. What was taking him so long!!? I knew I was going to buckle under the pressure.
Slowly I opened the bag and slid the first box out. From the smell alone I could tell it was one of my own creations ‘The Mid Morning Snack Pizza’. Damn, damn!! I started to put it back in but then without stopping pulled it back out quickly. Who would miss a few fries off the top? I’m sure the customer wouldn’t even notice. Before I even realized what I had done the fries were in my mouth. What a sweet relief from the hunger pains!! The relief was all too brief, the pains were back in no time only this stronger.
To be continued?
Brian Schropp on Cuisine
Brian Schropp
Brian Schropp returns this week after a harrowing series of adventures.
“For Christ’s sake Brian! You gotta have something up your sleeve, it’s now or never!!” I could tell Scott was reaching his boiling point. What was I do to? Did he really think I could just summon my brilliant ideas on a whim? I sat in the slightly broken office chair like many times before, swiveling back and forth with all my might trying to shake the ideas out.
Even with being on the verge of Scott’s mighty wrath it was good to have him back managing ‘The Round’. I should be telling you the awesome story of Scott finally defeating Lizzie Starlight and The Floating Baby Pizza Cult. It’s an epic tale indeed, sweeping up not only Scott’s sister but also yours truly in the hunt for this ultimate evil (hence why you haven’t seen any articles for a few weeks). This tale took us all over the map- the back roads of Western Lankville, the deepest darkest parts of Highway 71, on a makeshift raft to the mysterious Lankville Islands, and finally to a place that wasn’t even our own, another plane of existence so to speak. It was here, in this frightening world, that the fight with the hideous Floating Pizza Baby came to it’s climatic conclusion. All three of us were pushed to our physical and mental limit during this trial with each losing a bit of our sanity yet learning a little more about life. Yes, it’s a tale worth telling but alas since we have been back a greater, more pressing issue has arisen. Something so great it has taken the pizza industry and flipped it upside down. The issue is, of course, the newest craze. Pizza purses.
It’s great to have Scott back!
Since being gone this new found fad has swept all of Lankville like none before it. Everyone who is anyone (men included!!) wouldn’t be caught dead without toting one of these cheesy creations around. Not that I need to explain this but in case you are living in some remote area, where maybe the lunch meat wallet is still ‘the in thing’, let me explain- the pizza purse is an edible handbag (coming in all shapes and sizes) which you carry around during the day much like a normal purse. The difference is, of course, once you are through with your day, you empty it and then have a delicious dinner all ready for you. There hasn’t been any time for me to do any research about who started this trend since I have been busy trying to get ‘The Pizza A-Round’ on board with this. Believe you me, if you are a seller of pizza in Lankville (and there are hundreds just in the Northern Suburbs alone) nobody is calling for the standard fair. Even our personal ‘cutting edge ideas’ like ‘The Mid-Morning Snack Pizza’ and ‘The Pizza Eggwich’ are rarely spoken of. ‘The Round’, through lack of leadership, has really dropped the ball and now looks somewhat behind the times. The only person who even attempted to keep up, ‘Big’ James, went out and bought cheap dollar store handbags and filled them with nacho cheese. Hardly a suitable alternative. ‘The Nacho Cheese Sack’ just didn’t take off and made us look even more foolish.
Delightful pizza purses!!!
So here I was with Scott trying to pick up the pieces. He took my sauce-stained piece of scrap paper (I had been jotting down ideas in a desperate hope of finding something in these scribbles and doodles). After ripping it in half I braced myself for what would be my very first ‘Scott punch’. Instead he just sat down in his nice office chair and sighed deeply.
“I know we’ve been through a lot recently. Neither of us are at 100%, especially you Bri, after those cult members kidnapped you and did all that brainwashing stuff. I remember holding you like a baby on that makeshift raft as we made our escape to the Lankville Islands. The nightmares and mental anguish you endured– well, they…are…are still enduring!! I know it’s hard but I need you to dig deep and come up with something. Maybe we are thinking too much out of the box, let’s just start with a simple pizza purse design and take it from there. Yeah, it might turn into an all night session but what choice do we got?”
My failed attempt at making ‘The Round’s’ first pizza purse
Scott was right, I was nowhere near the same tender if somewhat ‘kooky’ guy I was a few weeks ago. If I hear a baby giggle while walking down the street my mind instantly fills with dread followed by horrific visions of the Floating Baby Pizza Slice. I knew it was gut check time, I had to put all of that behind and get down to what I do best– crafting the most innovative, cutting edge, culinary ideas this place has ever seen.
‘The Round’ was closed for the night so we had no one to interrupt us. I threw myself completely into the zone, only hearing Scott’s voice as a whisper encouraging me on. I was taking his advice and keeping it simple. Just starting out with a simple pizza purse idea, nothing more. Like any good jazz improviser would tell you, get the basics down and work magic from there. Not putting too much thought into it, I was letting my creative mind guide my hands to make it happen. I was feeling good, like many of our other ‘late night sessions’ before I sensed a possible breakthrough. Sadly, after taking my result from the pizza oven the cold winds of reality hit me right smack in the face. Maybe I wasn’t the man I was before. Scott laid his head down on the counter and started to sob.
I will keep you informed readers of what we will do to try and compete in this new high stakes pizza purse industry. Until next time, please keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas. Happy Eating- Bri
SPECIAL REPORT: Pizza Man Disappears
Brian Schropp, Special Pizza Correspondent
So, it was a very early day for me at the Pizza A-Round, I had to be there at the crack of dawn to give the signboard a good wash. “Going to be walking up and down Fairland Road all day mister,” Davis ‘Bud’ Huggins had said to me the previous night. He chuckled faintly. “Going to work that chub off you once and for all.” He thought that remark was somewhat hilarious and looked to the local jocks from the high school (he just recently hired them) for approval. “Alright boys, throw him in the dumpster. His shift is over anyways.” NOW THAT WAS UNCALLED FOR!!! I pulled myself from the trash and did the slow walk home stressing over the next morning.
Davis ‘Bud’ Huggins- where did he go?
The dawn came calling far too soon, the alarm clock buzzing portending the doom and gloom that awaited me. My Mom was concerned about all the breakfast sandwiches I was eating, “you just had a plate full last night, you can’t be eating those all the time. Plus the ‘Shop ‘N’ Bulk’ stopped carrying those huge plastic containers of strawberry milk. I think it’s time you cut back on those too.” Didn’t she understand how stressed I was over all these changes at work? She countered that being an adult was to handle these types of work situations in a mature fashion unlike the time I had the major meltdown under the main display table at ‘Pete’s Slacks Emporium’ (a job I had a LONG time ago). I told her this was much different citing me winding up in a dumpster as an example. My dad looked up from his ‘Word Jumble’ and motioned to the baseball bat by the front door. “Son. Don’t take that crap from them, take that bat with you and set them straight.” I know my dad wants me to stick up for myself more but didn’t he understand my sweet and tender nature? My mom of course thought I was ‘over- exaggerating’, she didn’t think someone as wholesome and good-looking as ‘The Bud’ would do such a thing. If she only really knew!!
OK-OK, I know, dear readers I’m getting side-tracked, you guys want the juicy details of the main story. Anyway, I was on my push scooter trying to get my head around working a full godawful day. When I turned the corner by Lorain and Fairland Road I saw all the police cars at the Pizza A-Round. I pushed harder on my scooter cutting through traffic to glide right in under all the yellow police tape wrapped around the parking lot. Inside I found a bunch of officers at the front counter shooting the shit while drinking coffee from small styrofoam cups. Calls were already coming in early for orders, the cops were picking up the phones and pretending to take them as a joke. They didn’t seem to care that I was there so I went past them and found Detective Gee Temple by the main prep station. He was absently turning a ladle around in a pizza sauce can.
“Hey there Bri, might be having a short work shift today. “Seems like your boss (here, Gee-Temple removed a piece of paper from his pocket to make sure he got the name right) Davis Huggins is gone.”
My mouth dropped open and mouthed the last word he said.
“Yup, a co-worker came in earlier this morning to find the place had not been locked up. Lights on, pizza ovens still running with pizzas on the floor, you get the picture. The back door was left wide open as well, Mr. Huggins’s big obnoxious pickup truck is back there, just no him. Footprints which I believe are his go right into the woods. So yeah, looks like he is gone.” Gee Temple waved an arm in the air like he was revealing some invisible stairs Davis Huggins had stepped onto.
We stood starring at each other for a moment without saying anything. “So Bri, Lloyd Byas-Kirk is already out back. Let’s check to see what he has to say.”
Detective Gee-Temple
Walking by even more policemen with tiny styrofoam cups we passed the cleaning sinks to the back parking lot. Huggins’s big obnoxious truck (with bull horns on the grill) stayed silent giving no statement on the events it had witnessed last night. Lloyd Byas-Kirk was by the dumpsters, he seemed enthralled by the poking of a dead rat with a stick.
“Hey there Lloyd, what do you make of all of this?” Gee-Temple asked.
Lloyd looked up with a slight vacant look in his eyes and then pointed the stick (which now had blood and guts from the rat on the tip) towards the woods. “Well the footprints match someone of his weight and height. Had to be him, just walked off in the middle of the night.”
“Think he coulda’ been blown into the woods and destroyed like that Nixon fella?” Gee-Temple asked excitedly.
“Nah, just walked off,” Byas-Kirk replied. Gee-Temple seemed disappointed.
”Yup, just walked off,” the detective finally agreed. “Was just telling Bri here all about that. The co-worker also showed me what Mr. Huggins wanted posted on the social media site last night. Just snapped under the pressure and walked off—-gone.” He waved his arm in the air again.
Lloyd turned to me. “Didn’t you say once those woods lead up to the hill country?”
I nodded– hadn’t my fellow reporter read the articles I did earlier this year about my adventures in the Northern Hill Country?
Gee-Temple shook his head. “Well, if that’s the case and he makes it all the way up there then Mr. Huggins is a goner for sure.”
Lloyd went back to poking the rat.
A few hours later all the police hubbub died down and the yellow tape was removed from the parking lot. “Are you going to try and open?” the detective asked while both of us watched the phones ringing off the hook. A very ragtag crew had showed up, it wasn’t ‘The A Crew”, that was for sure. I decided it was worth a shot, I would put on my best Scott impersonation and give it a go. Well, my readers, let me just tell you, it was hell, chaos ruled the next few hours. I can’t remember everything– much like a soldier in the heat of some terrible battle the memories all blur together. I just remember we didn’t get much right, in fact maybe not a single order. There was a lot of screaming, lots of yelling, tears and then some more.
By early afternoon something quite magical happened. With the news of Davis ‘Bud’ Huggins departure, the ‘old crew’ started to come back in like they were never fired!! ‘Big’ James, Charlie ‘The Nugget Guy’ and finally by four, Chet Cameron!! With the ‘Master of the Prep Line’ at the helm the orders finally started coming together and going out right!! By late evening word had gotten down to us from the owners that a new interim manager would be coming in the near future. But when? How would this new person be? When would Scott be back?
I will continue to keep you updated!! Until next time, please keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas. Happy Eating!!- Bri
UPDATE ON THE PIZZA CULT! Cuisine by Brian Schropp
By Brian Schropp
As I promised dear readers I’m updating you on the events surrounding my last article and, boy, there is a lot of ground to cover!
Lankville authorities descended on the Pondicherry Performance Center in full force the other day. Paddy wagons, helicopters, people in riot gear climbing down ropes, boats with guns trying to make their way up from the nearby shallow creek. I was watching all this from Dr. Nickelbee’s electric car in the parking lot (I was trying to get it started for him) so luckily I didn’t get swept up with all the other people being dragged out and beaten and then tossed into one of the wagons. A small tear did come to my eye when I saw Scott being brought out separately in cuffs and placed in a squad car. He didn’t seem to put up much resistance. I wondered if maybe it was the ‘sparkling water sorta shit’ he drank now instead of beer or maybe “the old Scott” was just a front to deceive people from his true cultish intentions.
When the authorities learned who I was they said a Special Agent from the ‘Pizza Cult Division’ wanted to speak with me. I was brought to their makeshift command center which was being set up on the other side of the parking lot. Inside the main trailer, I was introduced to Agent Spiffy. I have to admit I was getting pretty nervous– I was unknowingly involved in many aspects of the play. Agent Spiffy assured me I wasn’t under suspicion but that he just wanted to hear my version of events, unless I wanted to admit I was a part of the ‘Floating Baby Pizza Slice Cult’, then I would be thoroughly beaten and thrown in with the others. He was pretty upfront about the through beating part.
I told him what I knew about Scott, Lizzie Starlight, the play and even everything that had happened at the ‘Pizza Inn.’
Evil Abomination- The Floating Baby Pizza Slice!!
Here is what I learned from Agent Spiffy– Lizzie Starlight is, in reality, a High Priestess for The Floating Baby Pizza Slice Cult and has been using community theaters all over Lankville to convert unsuspecting citizens into cult members!! Get this folks, Lizzie Starlight isn’t even her real name, just one of many aliases! And even crazier, THAT’S NOT HER REAL HAIR (I knew it was a wig!). Spiffy said that all High Priestesses are ‘bald as a cue ball’ (he giggled kinda weirdly after saying that phrase). The way the scheme went down was that Lizzie would attach herself to whatever production was going on in town, specifically the worst one possible (mine must have been an exemption), then slowly introduces pizza elements by adding in The Floating Baby Pizza Slice. Agent Spiffy wasn’t sure if the big slice was some sort of advanced machinery or the evil metaphysical being itself but the thing would ‘subtly hypnotize’ the audience. Not everyone would be affected, just a few would be brainwashed and would automatically know where to go after the show was finished. From that point on they were ‘easy pickin’s’ (again he giggled weirdly after saying the last two words) to become mindless cult members. He also admitted some didn’t fully turn but still went home and maybe stabbed a loved one or baked a pizza without knowing why.
I needed one thing cleared up. The Chairman from the Performance Center had told me Lizzie was a renowned screenwriter and a lot of people knew her.
“A very ‘easy peasy’ (again the giggle) answer for you Bri, we believe the Chairman was either being manipulated by Lizzie via black magic or an actual, converted cult member. Either way we will get the answer from him.” He motioned me over behind his desk and on a small B&W TV set (which had been placed on the corner) showed me a live stream from an windowless bleak interrogation room. The Chairman was in there and readers I will not describe (for your sanity and your lunch) the ‘interrogation techniques’ being employed. After a few seconds I had to turn my head. “Sorry you had to see that, we in the ‘Pizza Cult Division’ don’t mess around.”
I told Spiffy my fears of what they might do to Scott, I knew in my heart of hearts he couldn’t really be involved in all of this. He assured me no real harm would come to my manager unless it was proven he was a member– indeed, they had never heard of his involvement until a few days ago.
At this point another Agent came in and told Spiffy the Performance Center had been cleared but there was no sign of ‘Lizzie Starlight’ or any large baby pizza slice!! Spiffy shook his head and muttered “Damn,’slippery as a greased-up seal'(insert weird giggle). Then, to the other officer, “OK, let’s burn it down.”
I looked out the trailer window to see men in Biohazard suits race up to the venerable old building with flame throwers.
I begged– NO– I pleaded with Agent Spiffy to let me go inside first and save the contents of the vending machines. “Nope Bri, can’t take any chances when it comes to pizza cults.” And as the building went up in flames I fell to my knees with tears now flowing freely.
An hour or so later I was on my push scooter heading home. I was thinking of ways to ask my folks to loan me the money for Scott’s bail if he was going to be released. I knew it would be a long shot getting a single dime for Scott but it was worth a try. Of course my folks (and the rest of my family) were out when I got there.
I decided to prepare myself a mid-morning snack and wait. In the kitchen, I thought I heard some strange sounds coming from my ‘basement apartment’. Walking slowly down the steps and turning past the laundry room to my area, I found none other than Lizzie Starlight. She was sitting in a meditative pose inside a circle of pizza slices, then another circle of candles (no other lights were on). I wasn’t too surprised to find her in a white robe with pizza slices printed on them– she was also missing the wig and COMPLETELY BALD.
A steady creepy chant was coming from her which sent a slight chill down my spine. She opened her eyes and gave an overly sweet smile. “Brian dear, I’ve been waiting for you.” She got up and carefully stepped over the candles towards me. Every fiber of my being wanted to run yet somehow I was paralyzed. She got close enough to loosely put her arms around my neck, she smelled like pizza and the dark arts.
I muttered, “I cant believe this—what you’ve done to everyone—to Scott–‘.
She put a finger to my lips “There’s no need to talk about that fool. He was a minor puppet in a much, much larger game. You see Brian, for the glorious and mighty Floating Baby Pizza Slice to come back to our physical world there needs to be a rebirth. I was brought here to Deep Northern Suburban Lankville because the visions told me the person was here. At first I thought it was Scott but now through deeper meditation I found that I was wrong. The real chosen one is you—.”
Lizzie Starlight- who really is completely bald!!
Lizzie moved back slightly to remove her robe–she was totally nude!! (And let me tell you readers, women look COMPLETELY different naked in real life then on the scrambled porn late at night on Lankville cable!). She moved and kissed me passionately on the mouth. Then I blacked out—
—At first there was just the darkness, then slowly a little light was moving towards me. It was accompanied by a horrid, otherworldly laugh. Slowly the iridescent haunting glow of The Floating Baby Pizza Slice headed towards me. I knew it was coming to take over my soul, my whole being, so it could rain terror and destruction on Lankville for eons! Wait—-abstractly from another corner of the infinite void of my mind came a hurricane whirling at a great speed!! I could vaguely see the bumpkin trailer spinning around inside and heard the sweet chorus of them fill all around me. This metaphysical force of wind caught up to the baby pizza slice and slammed right into it!! A huge explosion followed by a blinding white light—I saw a million universes being born and then dying at once. Another light—then darkness—the ringing—.
— And I slowly realize I’m laying on my basement apartment floor and the telephone is ringing. I carefully look around and see that Lizzie Starlight is now gone, the only evidence left are the pizza slices and burnt out candles. I slowly get up giving myself the once over. I don’t feel different mentally or physically, my clothes don’t even seem disturbed. Did I actually ‘do the deed?’ (Somewhere I hear Agent Spiffy giggling).
On the phone is Charlie ‘The Nugget Guy’ from ‘The Pizza-A-Round’– Scott has been cleared by the authorities and is there!! He said I should get down there quick. So I hopped on my push scooter and set off (ignoring the insults from the neighborhood kids along the way). Finally making it to work, I found the inside completely quiet with no phones or nobody working– it was like everybody in Lankville knew not to call or show up. The employees were circled around Scott’s door somewhat curious but mostly scared. They whisper that Scott had come walking in normally but VERY silent closing his door behind him.
“We figured you were the best one to see if he was OK,” Charlie said, nervously moving his hat on his head.
I nodded and slowly opened the door. “Scott…Scott?” I closed the door behind me.
He was almost done putting on his ‘Traditional Deep Eastern Suburban Lankville Outfit’. There was already a pile of beer cans around his feet with a few six packs on the desk. He pulled open a desk drawer to pull out two hand guns which he tucked into his outfit.
“Didn’t sell them all yet–,” he muttered over to me.
“Scott are you–?”
He flashed me a hardcore ‘Scott Look’ so it was best to keep my mouth shut. “I’m going after her Bri, her and all those damn cult fucks. I’m not going to rest until they all pay, even if I have to go through some big baby pizza slice. She made a fool out of me–I OPENED MY HEART TO HER–and I was repaid with manipulation. Not only for trying to discretely convert me or innocent others to the dark side but she was—was—COMPLETELY BALD!!! ME, SCOTT-THE KING OF KINGS-MAKING LOVE TO A COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY BALD WOMAN!!”
Scott in his traditional outfit.
He slammed his hand straight through the top of his desk. Splinters flew everywhere.
I wanted to tell him I could share in his pain but I wasn’t even sure if anything had happened between Lizzie and I. “Is it a good idea to go after this pizza cult alone, Scott? They seem really dangerous, I know you are in pain–”
“I AM SCOTT!!!!” he roared at me with the force of a thousand warriors. The force was so great it knocked me back into his pizza sauced stained office chair.
And with that, Scott swung open his door with everybody outside stepping back over each other to get out of his way. He stormed out to the parking lot and got in his 1987 Neptune. It took a few tries to start (he didn’t drive for a few weeks) then with a loud backfire the vehicle roared into reverse.
With a few heavy jerks Scott was out of the parking lot.
When will he be back? What will happen with the ‘Pizza-A-Round’ in the meantime? I will continue to keep you updated. Happy Eating!!-Bri
Is There an Evil Side to Pizza? Brian Schropp on Cuisine
By Brian Schropp
Is there an evil side to pizza? I know dear readers, pause, take a deep breath and really think about it. Of course, your mind automatically retreats to all the good- the anticipation of opening that delivery box to all the cheesy goodness inside, the way the pleasure zones of the mind sparkle when the mixture of cheeseburger and tomato sauce hits your quaking taste buds whilst enjoying ‘A Mid Morning Snack Pizza’, the joys of watching the hottest pizza play around ‘Ektar- Pizza Champion’. But could there be darkness lurking just behind all that light?
I was back from my somewhat enjoyable if rather disturbing vacation (please see my last article!!) and was shocked to find four daily showings of ‘Ektar- Pizza Champion’ at the Pondicherry Performance Center. Scott, my manager at the ‘Pizza-A-Round’ (now sporting a beret with pizza slices on it) was over the moon when he passed me at the front doors. “I can’t believe it Bri, this play is finally making me famous!! I never thought I could be what society deems a ‘somebody’.” I tried to ask him how things were at ‘home base’ (my silly nickname for ‘The Round’). “Don’t know to tell you the truth, been way to busy with this play to really deal with that place. Press interviews, hanging out in the coolest theater nightspots, getting my feet rubbed by beautiful groupies, it’s all so much!” I found this a little odd– even though he often talked about leaving the ‘pizza trade’ for bigger things I never thought he would just abandon ‘The Round’ so suddenly. I also took note of the nicer clothes he was wearing and some recent weight loss. “Quit drinking the beer and now I’m drinking this sparkling water sorta shit Lizzie gives me. Making me feel clear you know? Coming up with all sorts of shit for the follow up plays. Did I tell you I’m selling my guns?—”
Dr. Nickelbee- the LAST person I wanted to see.
At this point Lizzie Starlight (co writer of Ektar and my former stage partner) came up from behind and started to rub Scott’s shoulders. “Say sweetie, the next performance is going to start soon. We need to see if that actor playing ‘the fourth pepperoni stick’ is really up to snuff.” Scott took leave, grumbling under his breath about what would happen to the actor if he messed up. At least he waved a quick goodbye to me, Lizzie didn’t even acknowledge my existence!!
Even though I was only gone a week I had a hard time getting into the performance center. Having a big part early on in the making of this play seemed to have no weight on getting me through the doors– I needed a ticket for the sold out show. My pleas of needing to check out what was new in the vending machines were falling on deaf ears when I suddenly heard, “don’t worry-don’t worry I have an extra ticket for him!!” I turned around to see none other than my whacked out therapist Dr. Nickelbee pushing past people and waving two tickets excitedly in the air. Just great, I thought, he is LAST person I wanted to see having just returned from vacation.
Why a freak like him had two tickets I will never know. He also spent the extra extra dough and got the really good front row cushy seats which he was all giggly about. Before the show started he kept asking me how my vacation was (while rubbing my leg). When I tried to tell him how strange my trip had been, he would just cut me off and start talking loudly (annoying the folks around us) about how much he was looking forward to the play. He had even bought fake ‘Ektar novelty horns’ (the character is half-man, half-buffalo) in the lobby and put them on.
Finally the lights started to dim (and he was gripping my knee tight!!). I was surprised to find the opening changed. The laser light show was now the opening scene followed by what appeared to be a bigger and much more realistic floating baby pizza slice. After a moment, the eyes of the baby lit up and it started talking in a weird voice that didn’t make any sense. I looked around and saw that the audience was totally mesmerized by this! It was then that I felt Nickelbee’s hand tighten on my knee–I turned to see his face twisted in pure horror. Before I had time to find out what was wrong he stood up screaming.
“NO, NOT YOU, YOU’RE NOT REAL-YOU’RE NOT HERE!!! GET OUT OF MY HEAD, I HATE YOU-I HATE YOU-I HATE YOU–”
The Floating Baby Pizza Slice- true evil?
Then Nickelbee fled holding his head shrieking out the door. The lights came back on and the giant pizza baby floated back behind the drawn curtain. People were looking around at each other strangely. I was of course overly-embarrassed by the whole ordeal and with the dirty looks I was getting from the stage hands I knew it was best for me to go after Dr. Nickelbee.
I found his car open and abandoned in the parking lot and could hear his screams a few blocks away. The electric car must of broke down again, I thought. I walked slowly after him, following his loud howls in the night (which was one continuous stream) all the way through Northern Lankville to his offices. He left the office building and his own personal office door wide open. I heard him sobbing from under his desk. I walked over to where I usually sit on the couch and grabbed a few peanuts from a bowl on a nearby table. It took me a moment to find the right words. “So,—I take it something was bothering you?”
“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!!!”
I had no intention of really staying but the peanuts were those sugary kind which taste like candy, they can be so addicting!! Before long he just started to babble from under the desk. He talked about having visions of the baby pizza slice ever since he was a little kid. The slice would tell him to do all sorts of bad things, things he didn’t want to talk about. This otherworldly slice would also haunt his dreams telling him that one day all of Lankville would worship the baby like a God. When he was a teenager ‘the evil’ (which Nickelbee was now calling it) was trying to get him to kill elected officials!
“It was then Bri that I knew there was only one thing I could do. In my dreams I had to eat the floating baby slice, swallowing that thing whole would end the horror. CAN YOU IMAGINE FORCING YOURSELF TO EAT A BABY WHO IS MADE OUT OF PIZZA?!! HAVE YOU EVER HEARD ANYTHING SO ABSURD?!!”
Supposedly, that did the trick for him until he saw it floating before him tonight.
There was a long silence and then he returned to a sobbing mess and I’m pretty sure I smelled urine. With the bowl of peanuts also finished I really had no other business here. Walking back, I started not only thinking about tonight’s events but the things that happened during my stay at the ‘Pizza Inn’. Could they somehow be related? Then it dawned on me- the beret which Scott was wearing tonight looked much the same style as the robed men I saw at the Inn– white with tiny pizza slices on it!
Paranormal Investigator Dexter Kornish.
I desperately needed more answers. Instead of heading home I went over to the house of renowned Paranormal Investigator Dexter Kornish. I am a big fan of his books on the supernatural occurrences along Highway 71 and other like subject matters. He was very gracious letting me into house late at night and even offering me a large glass of strawberry milk. We sat down in his spacious offices which were located in the basement with some old exercise equipment.
“So Bri, how can I help you?”
I was nervous about relating the whole story so far. What if he didn’t believe me? I never read anything about a floating baby pizza slice in his books before. He listened attentively to everything I said then took a pipe out of his desk drawer and began puffing on it. He shook his head and muttered “absolutely fantastic.”
After another pause he turned directly to me. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret which I hope you won’t share (sorry Dexter but I have an article to do!!) Half the stuff I write about is pure BS. Total crap just made up for money.”
My heart sank to the floor “You mean the stuff about Highway 71?—”
“Oh that place is totally fucked beyond belief, you wouldn’t wanted to know the truth about what’s going on there. You see the money I make off writing about the fake happenings helps me channel funds into my real paranormal investigations- the things I share only with fellow investigators. If the real stuff got out your typical Lankville citizen wouldn’t be able to handle it. If their minds didn’t explode they would certainly go mad jumping off buildings and the such. I hate to tell you this but the Floating Baby Pizza Slice is far too real.”
Kornish took a large stuffed folder out of a messy file cabinet. “Have you ever read about the pizza prohibition and how it started?”
“Of course! In school they told us it was about criminals smuggling illegal cheese from the Lankville Islands to all the pizza places.”
“That’s what they what you to believe. The real reason, which has been covered up by the Lankville higher ups for years, has to do with pizza cults.”
He showed me photostats from the file folder with all sorts of articles and secret documents telling of the pizza-related societies who tried over the years ‘topping’ the current rule of law in Lankville. Several made references to a floating baby pizza slice who was either worshipped or came to people in visions. Dexter even had a whole separate folder on the slice which told about these demonic possessions since the beginning of recorded Lankville history!! In recent times it seems these particular stories have trailed off until last year when sightings came back full force.
He took out a picture from a top drawer, it a screen shot from some grainy VHS tape.
“This was taken only last week from a top secret Pondicherry home video. See that strange triangular shape in the sky?”
Actual footage of the slice!!
I looked really hard. “Not sure if I see anything.”
“Oh come now, really look hard. You’re no dummy!”
I squinted with all my soul. “Yeah-yeah I think I see it!”
“Recorded evidence of the slice, what further proof do we need that the floating abomination from the underworld is indeed back? So you say this play everyone is raving about has something like this in it?” I nodded. “And it’s being run by your manager at the ‘Pizza-A-Round and a woman named ‘Lizzie Starlight?’ Well I better go up there tomorrow and check this out. Until then DO NOT WRITE ABOUT THIS IN THE PAPER AT ALL!!”
Well readers, it’s been a few days since that conversation and I haven’t heard from Dexter Kornish at all. I know what he said but I am now publishing this in hopes someone has information about his whereabouts. If anyone does can you tell him to contact me via the paper. I tried tapping on his basement window a few times but his folks keep chasing me off. Can all of this be true? And how far is Scott wrapped up in it? I thought I knew him and not only thought of him as a manger but somewhat of a friend as well. I’m going to try find answers to all of this and will let you know dear readers what I uncover. Until next time- please keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas. Happy eating!!-Bri
The Pizza Inn: Brian Schropp on Cuisine
Brian Schropp on Cuisine
Yes, it was that time of year again for the annual ‘Schropp Family Vacation’. A big bonding experience not only for my immediate loved ones but for all my uncles, aunts and cousins to come together and enjoy the last heated rays of Lankville summertime before the cold, unforgiving northern suburban fall sets in. Beautiful lush beach houses are rented on the northern outskirts shoreline for a whole exciting week of merriment, games and cook outs. I am, of course, dropped off for my own ‘personal fun time vacation’ so my family can really enjoy themselves and not have to worry about me ruining their “one shot of real happiness” for the summer. My usual place of choice is ‘The Pizza Inn’ which is conveniently located on Highway 62 right on the way to the shoreline. I was especially happy since word had gotten to them that the play I am associated with– ‘Ektar- Pizza Warrior’ is the highest grossing pizza-related stage play ever produced in Lankville.
The lovely “Pizza Inn” off Highway 62.
Even though credit needs to be given to Lizzie Starlight and Scott (my manager at ‘The Pizza-A-Round’) for coming up with the final product, I feel like my original script ‘Eggs And Bacon On The Prairie’ was the catalyst to make it all happen. The play has generated enough money in one week that there is already talk of building another Pondicherry Performance Center right on top of the existing one. Liz and Scott are now writing two follow-up plays ‘Ektar And The Cry For Pepperoni’ and ‘Ektar -The Eternal Pizza Champion’ which will undoubtedly be great successes.
I knew that only good things would await me at the inn. It seemed like anything dealing with pizza was the current hot trend!! My family was equally excited to start their own vacation- so much in fact that my folks didn’t even fully stop the minivan while pulling in the parking lot to drop me off. I stumbled out while the vehicle was in a slow roll with my luggage being thrown behind me. The screech of the wheels followed by a quick acceleration meant I was on my own.
Richmond St. Dunesberry
Picking up my stuff, I stopped to take in how beautiful the scene was before me. An almost clear blue sky in the backdrop with the wonderful Inn before me and that whimsical, delightful sign in front which I get all loud and giddy about in the car when I see it. Once inside, I was greeted by none other than the owner of ‘The Pizza Inn’ himself, Richmond St. Dunesberry. He was. of course, in his classic ‘tighty whities’ since he doesn’t wear any clothes. This might throw customers off at first but once you get to know the man you find out he really is quite charming and his near-nudity is just a little ‘personality quirk’. In fact, there have been many times I’ve stayed there, me in my boxer shorts and St. Dunesberry in his whites, talking about the pizza trade and all it’s delights. I have never felt uncomfortable!! He was having some of his famous ‘double pepperoni’ flavored tea which he brews himself and is quite popular.
He was very pleasant in greeting me but I could tell something wasn’t quite right. The cup of tea was shaking slightly in his hand.
“Is something wrong Richmond?” I asked. “There isn’t anything wrong with the ‘Black Olive’ room?” That was my favorite room to stay in and I book it often.
“No-no,” he replied, smiling nervously and then looking around furtively to see if anybody was listening. “Why don’t we go into my office.”
He closed the office door behind me and then went about preparing a cup of ‘double pepperoni’ tea for me– always the gentlemen (and the cup was first rate!!). I waited sipping the fine brew while he took his time to collect himself. “Don’t know where to begin, things have changed so much in the past few days–the past few hours even—.”
“Is it financial trouble? You know the Pondicherry Performance Center was having trouble before Ektar–”
“That damn play!!!” Richmond threw his cup across the room, shattering it completely. The tea ran slowly down the wall.
“The play is really on fire right now, wouldn’t that bring more attention to this place? Pizza is the hottest thing in the media right now–.”
Richmond looked at the floor. “How do I start?” he muttered, holding his forehead. He took a few deep breaths before speaking again. “Bri, we’ve talked many times about the pizza trade, a great deal in fact. But there is a whole other side which is rarely known or even talked about. The metaphysical side, the occult side—-.”
There was a loud crash from somewhere in the reception area, followed by a few screams and the pounding of footsteps.
“Oh dear- oh dear.” Dunesberry got up shaking like a leaf. “Stay in here. DO NOT open this door until I come back.”
He quickly exited. What was up? An upset customer perhaps? But no, who could be upset with the Pizza Inn? I thought quickly. I saw on my way in that the lunch buffet had gone up a dollar since I was last here, maybe that was it? I poured myself some more tea and helped myself to a can of ‘Western Lankville Canned Sausages’ already opened on his desk and then settled back in my chair. I heard some yelling, a few more screams (one may have been Dunesberry) and more heavy footsteps. After a few minutes the ruckus seemed to stop from the area around the office but I could hear the same commotion faintly in other parts of the Inn.
“The Black Olive Room”- my favorite!
When was he coming back? How upset could a customer be? Even the lights flicked off and on a few moments! After what seemed like an eternity (and after polishing off the can of sausages) I decided to see what was up.
The reception desk was eerily quiet. “Hello-hello?” I walked slowly around the desk and my eyes widened; Richmond’s underwear was laying on the floor drenched in blood. My mind filled with panic and horror for a brief moment until I found a pen to pick up the whities. Was this real blood? Come on now-it couldn’t be! What was really going on hit me all at once. A smile came across my face, this was a murder mystery sorta thing that the Inn was putting on for the weekend!
I walked towards the dining area proudly holding ‘the bloody undies’ with the pen. The lunch buffet was deserted like the front expect it was a lot more messy. Tables littered with food. sauces all over the floors and walls, these folks were going full out!!
They gave me with a slight scare when a guy ran in from the kitchens, his shirt slightly torn and with a wild look in his eye. I held up the underwear with the pen. “Hey, are we supposed to guess who ‘killed’ Richmond? Will there be a couple of people to choose from?”
“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!! WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE, THEY’RE COMING BACK THIS WAY!!”
I chuckled. “So there is more than one killer?”
“MY FAMILY WAS JUST HERE TO ENJOY THE BUFFET-IT HAPPENED SO SUDDENLY-THEY CAME RUNNING IN AND ATTACKED EVERYONE-THEY WERE IN ROBES-THEY TOOK MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER-SO SWEET GOD-OH SWEET GOD-.”
The kitchen doors flew open again and out spilled more terrified people in various states of undress. Right on their heels ‘the others’ came in, people dressed in robes with hoods covering their faces. The robes were white with little pizza slices printed all over them!! So, this wasn’t a murder mystery game after all, it was one of those survival-style games you pay for- what a great idea!! I watched as the people in robes quickly snatched the screaming ‘victims’, they sure weren’t making it easy!
I had a serious question to ask the panic-stricken guy who was desperately clinging to my arm. “Now, I had no idea this was going on when I booked my room, will I be charged for this?”
“Help meeeeeeee-.”
They dragged him away before he could answer my question. I tried asking one of the hooded ones running by if I was going to be charged extra for this. He turned to face me, I was quite impressed with the contacts they were using to make their eyes glow. He grabbed my wrist but soon enough another one was there shaking his head. “Not him,” he said in some unearthly voice, how did they do that?
To tell you the truth. I really didn’t sign up for this stuff. Since I was on vacation I was ready to settle down for a nice afternoon nap. I scooped up some ravioli which was still in a pan (not on the floor) and headed to lay down in my ‘Black Olive’ room. To keep in the spirit of the game, I lightly jogged with my things and gave a happy little frightful yell whenever I passed someone in the hallway running away from their robed predators. I have to give kudos to these people for really getting into it.
Once ‘safely’ in the room I turned on the TV (with the charming fuzzy reception) settled on my bed and placing the pan of ravioli on my stomach. I drifted off to the occasional thump and scream happening somewhere around me.
I must have been working harder the days before my vacation than I realized. I slept straight through until next morning. As I was showering and getting ready for the day I hoped the whole survival game was over, at least for now. I was really looking forward to the intercontinental pizza breakfast and wanted to enjoy it in peace. It was to my amazement that I found the whole entire ‘Pizza Inn’ empty, not a soul in sight. Not only that but upon closer inspection, I found everything cleaned and in order like no one had been here for months. What was I supposed to do? It had been a good sixteen hours since I had eaten last. I never knew hunger pains could feel so deep!! Whatever this game was, St. Dunesberry took everybody to play the next stage somewhere else. I could not wait around for anyone to get back so I had to go into the massive empty kitchen area and try to make something on my own.
Not the greatest pie ever made.
I turned on the giant ovens to warm up while I looked around for ingredients. I was feeling quite faint and had serious rumbles stopping me in my tracks a few times. As you may know from some of my past articles, I’m not really in charge of making pizzas at my job– it’s only a skill I’m just starting to learn. I tried to channel everything I knew from watching the greats, like Chet Cameron, to make a pizza pie.
By this stage I was becoming quite delirious and just ran on instinct more than anything. Before I knew it, I was at a table in this huge empty room looking down at what I had created. Probably not the best pie ever made but it would certainly do for now.
It was a VERY weird feeling sitting there eating alone, hearing my smacking echo against the walls. After filling up, I took another look around to see if I could find anyone. Without success I headed back to the kitchens to prepare a big jug of strawberry milk to take with me. I found St. Dunesberry’s keys in his office, locked up the ‘Pizza Inn’ and started the long walk towards the northern shoreline. Of course, by the time I found my family and relatives the fun of the summer had to stop. No one believed my story and when my dad, myself, and local shoreline authorities went back, the place was open again!! There was a brand new manager in there who said that Richmond sold the business to him months ago and had no recall of me being there the day before!!
Well, gentle readers I am still trying to work this mess out. I’m about sixty percent sure I didn’t make this up (no Mom I did not have too much strawberry milk). Once I have some real answers for you guys I will let you know. Until next time please keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas, Happy Eating!!-Bri
Odds and Ends: Brian Schropp on Cuisine
Brian Schropp, Senior Cuisine Writer
Well, there seems to be yet another update on the warnings issued for my ‘Lankville O’s Gelatin Dinner Time Surprise’ recipe. As I stated last week part of the warning was for pregnant women and children under 12 to use extreme caution when eating. Now UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES should pregnant women or children under 12 have ANY amounts of this or even be in the same room with the actual completed recipe for more than 20 minutes. I’m still unclear on what exactly is making this so risky to eat especially since I can (and do) eat very large amounts and am perfectly fine. Trying to locate the right channels who issue these statements has been quite frustrating.
Gelatin Surprise with Canned Western Lankville Sausages
Nevertheless, I do have a modified recipe for this gelatin delight which uses Canned Western Lankville Sausages on top. I’ve been told people who have used this particular recipe DO NOT get sick (or die) eating ANY amounts provided that they throw away and not eat the canned sausages on top. Do the sausages somehow absorb whatever toxins (if that is indeed the cause) that are created in the mix? I’ve been wanting to try the modified recipe on my family to see if this is actually true but everyone in the house refuses. If any reader wants to be a ‘test subject’ for me please contact via the paper or stop by the ‘Pizza-A-Round’ when I’m working. I really want to try and make this delicious meal safe for everyone!
“Just eat around the sides then, you ass,” Scott barked. Then he nodded over to me, “Don’t you see who made this? Dumb shits should be delighted in trying something from one of the great culinary minds around. Have you never tasted butter with BBQ sauce before? With the meat bits it takes it to another level!”
Still proud of my meat bits loaf creation
Another judge remarked there was a lot of butter on the loaf and she wasn’t even sure how ‘green butter’ is made. (To be honest, I’m not really sure either it just seems to turn out that way when I put all the ingredients together).
Scott was not happy with the judges decision to outright refuse to taste our food. He knocked over the table and a few others around our area while threatening the lives of the judges’ families. When the green and yellow butter hit the lodge floor it made this cool hissing sound and even started to eat into the floor! Luckily I got Scott out of there before any type of law enforcement showed up. I was a bit disappointed in losing but honestly, I knew it was a long shot. The winner of the day was of course the mighty ‘Crown Of Frankfurters’ and I wish it all the success as it battles to win the whole Lankville Food Challenge. I have a feeling it has a very good chance in doing so!!
To end on a brighter note, I stopped by to see my friend Eddie the other day and check how his ‘Bra Lunch Buffet’ was doing. Turns out my article a few weeks ago has helped him increase sales. “Oh yes Bri, I can’t believe how many people show up for the lunch buffet now.” Eddie was grinning ear to ear wearing a very fashionable green and black bra of his own. “You see I was able to buy this beautiful lace bra for myself with the money coming in. I also bought that other plastic tree over there by the buffet stand. I still get the food from the shelter- it’s cheap and the customers don’t seem to mind that much. I did buy new paper plates and am not washing the old ones anymore. It’s a real skill to wash paper plates and make them usable again.” Being in charge of the ‘cleaning team’ at the ‘Pizza-A-Round’ I could sure relate.
A happy customer at the bra lunch buffet.
I asked him what sort of people were coming in.
“Mostly men. Men wearing bras. And then using my bras for the buffet. Lot of men sitting around looking at each other men in bras. A few shifty old perverts come in hoping to catch a woman in one but usually leave disappointed. Just really men on men bra action.”
Even though that last sentence made me extremely uncomfortable I was still glad to see things have picked for him.
Until next week dear readers, please keep minds and mouths open to new ideas. Happy Eating!!-Bri
THE FOOD CHALLENGE
By Brian Schropp
BRIAN SCHROPP ON CUISINE
“There’s gotta be something, Bri.”
Scott was starring off into space while absently tapping the buttons on the pizza sauce stained adding machine. I sat in the other (and not as nice) chair in his office swiveling in a semi-circle trying to shake the ideas out of my mind. The 43rd Annual Lankville Food Challenge was coming up in a few weeks and the qualifying round for our area in Deep Suburban Lankville was just a few days out. For some reason Scott got it in his mind that we needed to enter something not only to help make a name for the ‘Pizza-A-Round’ but also that it could be a stepping stone for him to do something greater. “I always thought there was a dream in the stars for me,” Scott remarked not so long ago in a drunken rant while driving me home. “This pizza trade has kept me down for too long- you can only cry in the sauce so long before you realize it’s your own fault.” From the lights of the passing lampposts I could see the tears start to well up in his eyes while the music from the local hard rock station, 103.5 ‘The Hammer’ played in the background.
Picture of my manager Scott relaxing at home.
If this was going to be Scott’s big break then we had some pretty stiff competition to beat just in the first round alone. ‘Sir Frank’s Medieval Theme Park’ was planning on entering their illustrious ‘Crown of Frankfurters’ and everyone in the area thought it was pretty unbeatable. Sure, there was only one actual crown now and it was in a plastic lucite case (please see my thrilling ‘Blood On the Crown’ articles from a few weeks ago for details) but thousands still flocked the theme park each week to gaze at its beauty. The ‘Mid-Morning Snack Pizza’ and ‘The Pizza Eggwich’, two personal inventions of mine from this year, were blockbusters for the pizza world but to win the actual Lankville Food Challenge it was going to take something more. And the ‘Lankville O’s Gelatin Dinner Time Surprise’ now had that warning- oh yeah I need to put the warning up:
You can only eat small amounts of my ‘Lankville O’s Gelatin Dinner Time Surprise’ in one sitting no matter what type of glue you use. It is now recommended to wait 48 to 72 hours after having one slice before having another. There is also a caution for pregnant women and children under 12 not to eat any at all.
Earlier in the day Scott had assembled a bunch of the pizza staff (Chet Cameron, Big James, Charlie ‘The Nugget Guy’ to name a few) into the office to have a ’round robin’ of sorts to see what ideas we could come up with. One by one he tossed them out (sometimes actually physically tossing them out) when they had no ideas or the idea wasn’t any good (like Big James just wanting to pour nacho cheese on every sub idea). As the hours ticked by the only one left was me.
The Crown of Frankfurthers- was it beatable?
“There’s gotta be something!!” he exclaimed again this time pounding the adding machine making it fly into the air. Naturally I was swiveling my chair right in that direction and with comical timing the adding machine smacked me right in the forehead. I hit the grody floor like a ton of bricks. I am not sure how long I was out but it had to be for a good moment. I remember Scott’s whiskey breath asking me if I was alright while shaking me. After getting up and staring at him, I had the winning food idea in my mind!! I grabbed a pizza sauce-stained pad of paper and quickly wrote out the recipe. I had no time to worry about his reaction it was happening all so fast. Scott snatched the paper and after looking it over the biggest smile appeared on his face. “Such a fuckin’ genius,” he muttered.
The ‘Pizza-A-Round’ was supposed to be open for another hour but Scott kicked everybody else out and turned off the phones, even my ‘cleaning team’ was sent home with a lot of washing still to be done. The place was now quiet for us to focus on making this new incredible food idea come to life. There were a few things Scott had to run out to the 24 hour convenience store to get– luckily most everything we needed we had in our freezers.
The process was a real trial and error affair with a rough start. Scott had his doubts and at one point complained, “Bri, this is so—-complex—can it even be done?” I did worry slightly, an idea that is so far ahead of its time can seem overwhelming but I was in my ‘Schropp Zone’ and felt anything was possible.
Could my new idea win the Lankville Food Challenge?
By the early morning I was taking the final creation out of the pizza oven. I had burnt my other attempts to a crisp, it was hard to judge the cooking times in such an oven. I learned you had to microwave most of the components first to warm them up. Unwrapping the foil and inhaling the aroma we knew we had a shot. “What are you going to call it?” he asked while grabbing a plastic spoon to sample. I didn’t tell Scott this but the name was the first thing in my mind with everything else following. It was long and described it perfectly. “It’s called-‘Deep Northern Meat Bits Dinner Loaf Topped With Sweet Southern Lankville BBQ Sauce in A Green and Yellow Butter Sauce.”
The first time Scott attempted to scoop a piece out, the plastic spoon broke. Getting a metal one and successfully scooping a bite he nodded his head. “Very good! Very good, Bri. We need to work on the presentation a little and it looks like the middle is still really raw but it’s a winner for sure. Shaping meat bits into a loaf is enough to rock any food judge off his feet then following that with the taste of the sweet BBQ sauce and all that butter. I mean that’s a shit ton of butter in there, I think we have a shot!”
I was happy Scott thought the final product was worthy. If this could help him break the ‘pizza chains’ that held him I was willing to give my all. I think he a great (but very misunderstood by most) manager. I will keep you updated dear readers on the results of this exciting new entry into the food challenge!! Until then please keep your minds and mouths open to new ideas, Happy Eating!!-Bri
A Tour Of My Local ‘Lankville O’s’ Processing Plant
Brian Schropp on Cuisine
Sometimes, my dear readers, your wishes really do come true. The news which I had secretly dreamed of since I was a little boy came via a tomato sauce-scented post card last week- ‘Lankville O’s’ CEO, Wally Denmark, was sending me a personal invitation to tour the local processing plant! It seems the company and Mr. Denmark himself have been quite pleased with not only my positive endorsement of everyone’s favorite canned pasta but also with my recipes incorporating them. What an honor!! Very few people are let into the doors to see ‘how the magic is made’ and even fewer get to see Mr. Denmark himself. The CEO was going to meet me at the plant to show me around!
Needless to say the night before the tour very few winks of sleep were had, I felt like that young boy again imagining what the inside of that processing plant was like. That morning waking up very early (7AM!!) I had my Mom prepare me a ‘Lankville O’s’ egg and scrapple sandwich with a generous side of ‘O’s’ with meat bits (my favorite type). My Dad offered to drive me there but the plant was so close it would be an easy walk.
My local processing plant 671B
The company is the number one job supplier to the Deep Northern Suburban Lankville area; there is one plant every .5 miles. Like the old saying goes- ‘If you are going to the Deep Northern Area don’t slip on any O’s!’ My local plant number was 671B.
Having never been to one or any other ‘working man’ type of plant before I was a little nervous about exactly where to enter and maybe having some type of large underpaid worker yell at me. As it turns out, I didn’t need to worry at all– it was like they were just waiting there to greet me! A small group of workers had a little red carpet rolled out and started clapping when I emerged from the nearby woods (the foot path was the quickest way to get there). Truckers, ready to roll out and deliver the goodness of the day, honked their horns and gave a friendly wave while I made my way across the parking lot. It was a delightful reception!
Once I made it to the group a sweaty, slightly nervous man who turned out to be the plant manager shook my hand while a few photos were snapped; then he quickly led me inside. The corporate offices were nothing to write home about even though the people were all very nice and stood and clapped while I was led through. The plant manager told me the CEO was in his private lounge (I think he has one in every plant) having a drink and anxiously awaiting my arrival. The lounge was tucked back behind the offices and seemed very spacious. The only two in there was the man himself and the bartender.
CEO Wally Denmark
“Please Bri,” said Wally Denmark, flashing me a warm smile. “Come over here and have a drink with me.”
I had the barkeep whip up a nice cold glass of strawberry milk (which had to be brought from the cafeteria since there was only hard alcohol stored in the bar).
“First off I hope my physical appearance does not disturb you. There are some nasty rumors going around saying I had these implanted into my forehead at a young age. Sure, I was a born billionaire and could have had that done but it’s really not true. This is just an unfortunate bone growth that only looks like horns. It does give the impression of absolute evil but I believe myself to be quite the opposite.” With the push of a button on the bar the plant manager came back in to nervously tell me how nice and supportive the CEO was. I told Mr. Denmark I was so excited about seeing the plant I didn’t even notice the horns.
“And I personally wanted to give you this tour not only for the mention in the paper which always helps sales but also because of your unique uses for the ‘O’s.”
“Glad you enjoy them.”
“Well I never tasted any of your ‘cutting edge ideas’ myself. You see, the last few months my company has been under what is known as a ‘hostile takeover’. Believe it or not some company out of the depths of Southern Lankville scrapped up enough money plus influence and tried to buy their way onto the Executive Board. I really thought they had me, these swine were right on the verge of getting into my company when I decided to have them over for dinner. They thought I was having them over so as a sort of ‘peace offering’– little did they know what was in store for them! My personal chef made a VERY generous helping of your “Lankville O’s Gelatin Dinner time Surprise’ and needless to say the group was soon gone. I feel a little indebted to you in a weird roundabout way.”
I didn’t understand what he meant. Did these folks take my recipe for their own purpose? I mean, I never kept it a secret. Ultimately, I decided I really didn’t care– I was just here to see the plant and told him so.
“Yes, let’s get this tour underway, I have ‘hostile takeovers’ of my own to work on later.”
Plant workers dong their best to make every can special
If you thought your typical ‘Lankville O’s’ processing plant was big from the outside you should see the inside!! We walked around the security railings which were on every level (Mr. Denmark doesn’t like to get himself dirty getting on the actual work floor). He rattled on about the facts and figures of the whole operation- how many cans were made each day at each plant and how much sauce it took etc etc. Would even go into detail about each machine and how it functioned. I’m sure he was telling me this so I could use the information for future articles. Embarrassingly however, in my excitement I left my notebook at home so no details were written down. I did enjoy watching all the employees hard at work trying to make each and every can special. I was trying my best to ignore all the ‘on site accidents’, the fingers and other body parts being sliced open or torn off with said parts just tumbling down the conveyor belts. Wally would shake his head and say “those things happen in big commercial operations.”
The ‘Killing Floor’
Blood on the Crown, Part II
Brian Schropp
CUISINE BY BRIAN SCHROPP
There was a murder in the courtyard and chaos ensued. The Master Chef who had created the ‘Crown of Frankfurters’ had been stabbed in the back when the lights went out in the midst of a grand celebration. All those lovely people in their fancy renaissance outfits were now screaming and pushing fellow court members out of the way to make a quick exit. Trampled gowns, trampled foam swords, tears, black eyes. I managed to make it to the platform where ‘The King’ and ‘The Queen’ still stood.
‘The Crown of Frankfurters’
The King was shaking his head solemnly. “It’s really no use all of them running, security would have closed the castle walls. Only a few will be able to scale the wall itself before the spikes go up.”
“Why would someone kill the chef?” I asked, the little hotdogs that were still left jangling from my jester’s hat.
One of the ‘King’s Guard’ (a fat guy in a yellow t-shirt that said ‘security’) brought up the crown and placed it in the King’s hands. He raised it so the light would make the frankfurters sparkle. “Well Bri, it’s all because of this marvel. Somebody doesn’t want to me succeed, more than likely, they want to open a medieval hot dog theme park of their own. The best way would be to throw a wench in this, the hottest food idea of the year coming out. The news about the disaster will drive people away plus The Master Chef was the only one who knew the magical recipe.”
Over the chomping of The Queen’s gum I started to think of who would do such a thing. My thoughts kept wandering back to the person who I saw earlier in the park, Hank Cameron, Manager of Foodville. Sure, I didn’t have anything actually linking him to the crime but I knew the type of fiend he was. “Sir,” I said bowing to one knee. “I may know of the one.”
After explaining who Hank Cameron was the King shouted to his ‘King’s Guard’. “Bring me this man!!”
All the fat men of the guard shuffled out to find him. Things had finally calmed down in the courtyard at least– a good soul threw a blanket over the body of The Master Chef until some sort of authority figure would be called to take charge. Right now with the castle walls up it was all the King’s justice. A few minutes passed– I was talking with ‘The Queen’ (one of the King’s many mistresses) about the cool design on her nails when I heard a familiar voice from behind me. “There you are Bri!!”
Goofy Hotdog Guy- the true killer!!
Scott joined me on the platform in his traditional Deep Eastern Suburban Lankville outfit. I filled him in on all the details. I was glad he found me, I felt a little safer with him there and his firepower. It was soon after that the King’s Guard dragged in the whimpering, sniveling Hank Cameron with his family behind him. I guess looking back I did feel slightly bad for him but I also believe in what many Deep Northerners call ‘karmic justice.’
The battered and bruised who were still in the court gathered around the platform after Hank Cameron was brought to the front. For some reason The King’s voice became overly dramatic “Are you the man called Hank Cameron?!!!”
“Yes-yes.” His voice had taken a high-pitched nasal quality.
“You have been accused by this Hotdog Jester of killing The Master Chef and trying to make ‘The Crown of Frankfurters’ your own. How do you plea?!!”
I think Hank Cameron was too upset to really notice it was me. “I didn’t do anything I swear!!” To see such a man of authority reduced to a babbling mess was something.
The King’s eyes were cold and hard. He was about to pass judgement when an old lady wearing a robe with moons, stars, and hot dogs on it stepped out of the crowd holding a small crystal ball. Her free hand was waving over the ball while she was speaking. “My King, this is not the man who committed the evil act. The man who planted the blade is the one who is truly one with the hot dog!”
“What the hell does that mean?” The King questioned. Everyone was scratching their heads, who could that be? Most everyone here had such a deep passion and love for hot dogs.
From the corner of my eye I just happened to notice the goofy guy in the hot dog outfit who brought me here trying to sneak out. “It’s him!!” I said loudly pointing towards the door. The goof quickened his pace, I was pretty nervous the fat men of the King’s Guard wouldn’t be able to catch him. Scott pulled out one of his handguns and shot the fleeing frankfurter in BOTH knees, he’s always a good shot. Screaming in pain he was dragged before the King while Hank Cameron crawled away sobbing to his family.
The King had a tear in his eye. “Why would you, the goofiest hot dog of the court do something so foul and betray me?!”
Pausing in the pain the goof gave a twisted a smile. It looked like he was about to reply but instead the maniac pulled a small blade out in an attempt to kill the King!! Again Scott was on top of his game putting a bullet between his eyes.
After a moment of deep breathing, the King walked over to Scott and kissed his hand. “Sir, thank you for saving me. I am forever in your debt, maybe one day both the Northern and Eastern sides of Deep Suburban Lankville could put aside their trivial differences and live as one.”
Scott- now an honorary member of the ‘King’s Guard’
“Whatever, if you owe me a favor can you get me the numbers of those two rather busty barmaids you have working for you?”
The King smiled “Someone bring me their employee files!!” Everyone on the court cheered and the party started up again like nothing had even happened. The music was playing and even better, plates of food were coming back out. Among the best was another new idea called “Micro Dogs” delightful miniature hot dogs that hit the spot.
I watched while the King place ‘The Crown of Frankfurters’ in a glass box. “This is the only one now Bri. we must take care of it. A shame it will never be eaten.” Now a tear was coming to my eye.
Sometime later the castle walls must of been opened because Gee-Temple came in with a few cops. He wanted to see the bodies but somehow during all the merriment someone removed both bodies without anyone noticing. Also no one could find the old lady with the crystal ball. Hank Cameron wanted to file charges against me and just about everyone there but the King gave his family lifetime passes to the park. I guess no report was made.
On the car ride back Scott seemed pretty pleased with himself rocking out to Lankville’s hard rock station 103.5 ‘The Hammer’. He was given a special pin- a hotdog with the words ‘King’s Guard’ scribbed into the bun. He had put it on his traditional Deep Eastern Suburban Outfit, maybe, just maybe there was hope for all the suburban areas to come together some day,
Until next time dear readers- keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas. Happy Eating!!-Bri
Brian Schropp on Cuisine
Brian Schropp on Cuisine
Yesterday I had yet another appointment with my therapist, Dr. Nickelbee. My parents have been making me go more and more often because he is offering them such cheap rates. I have tried to tell them about some of the more uncomfortable things he does during our sessions but they say I’m just doing my usual ‘over exaggerating’.
So there I was on his small therapist couch smelling the flavor of his gum (because he was WAY too close) and enduring the rubbing of my leg like I was some prized pet.
“Bri, you have made such progress in the little time we have been together. Your tortured soul is like a multi-layered taco dip with us taking each layer carefully, putting it on our mouths and tasting what needs to be fixed.”
I felt like we had made zero progress; I was also slightly embarrassed when my stomach rumbled at the mention of the taco dip.
Eddie, former owner of ‘Eddie’s Sub Shack’ now trying something more upscale.
“Your food articles are helping you open up more which in turn is getting us to more layers of the dip, the deep down dark good bits, the stuff I really want to hear about (he squeezed my knee really hard). We just have one problem, I feel like you are limiting yourself in what you are willing to try and write about in your articles. It’s all fun and cute writing about some greasy pizza stuff or unhealthy breakfast sandwiches but you need to try penning more complicated and refined taste profiles.”
I tried to assure him I knew all about complicated taste profiles, he just needed to try a ‘Pizza Eggwich’ if there was any doubt. This just made him squeeze my knee even harder.
“Stop being so defensive big guy. I have booked us a table at a restaurant called “Eddie’s”. I hear from all my other therapist friends that this is a true cutting edge culinary establishment, a little more ‘upscale’ shall we say. Looking at a menu on-line the prices are expensive which means it must be good.”
I doubted he had any therapist friends or any friends in general. The last thing I wanted to do was spend more time with him. I tried using the excuse that I didn’t have any money to help pay for this expensive meal.
“Don’t worry, I told your folks all about this brilliant idea of mine so they will be talking with your manager, Scott at the ‘Pizza-A-Round’ about you picking up some extra shifts to cover the expenses.”
After much eye rolling we were off and went in Dr. Nicklebee’s “wonderful, progressive and good for the environment” electric car. I thought it was just small and cramped which only continued his need to keep putting his hand on my leg. Luckily the ride didn’t last long because the car started to slow down after about a block then die completely a few minutes after that.( I guess the battery only keeps a charge for so long.)
So we were walking it the rest of the way with me secretly hoping no one would recognize me with this fool (we were only a few blocks away now from my home in Deep Northern Suburban Lankville). As we neared the shopping center it dawned on me where we might be going.
“There used to be a place called ‘Eddie’s Sub Shack’ in here. It wasn’t upscale at all in fact it got closed because of health violations. I thought the food wasn’t too bad but most people did. I think the only reason he had customers was he accepted Lankville food stamps. Oh, he also didn’t wear a shirt and usually wore a woman’s bra, that freaked people out.”
Dr. Nickelbee just shook his head and thought I was making up more ‘stories’. I was proven right when we walked into ‘Eddie’s’ and were greeted by the man himself.
“Hey Bri.”
“Hey Eddie.”
Dr. Nickelbee looked around and was clearly not impressed with the establishment. To me it was the same old restaurant filled with green plastic tables and chairs. The only difference I could make out were the floors being slightly more clean and the tables had little vases on them with flowers (many of the flowers were old and dying).
“This-this is the ‘Eddie’s’ I saw on-line? The one which said it was upscale and the food was expensive?”
Eddie nodded “Yes. Food here is very upscale and very expensive. Good-good, fancy like.”
The maple chicken.
We were shown to our table and given some menus. Again, Dr. Nickelbee wasn’t very impressed with the sticky one-sided menu written in marker but I looked past that at some of the amazing featured items. I wanted to try the ‘hotdog and scrapple potpie delight’ and the ‘deviled eggs in a mysterious cream sauce casserole’. Of course Dr. Nickelbee countered, “remember why we are here Bri, to try things out of your comfort zone. I don’t mean to put you down but I am the professional here.”
So he talked over me when Eddie came back and ordered the ‘maple chicken’ and the ‘fancy pasta with pork and quiche’. He would of course pick out the two most boring sounding items on the menu. While we waited for the food he babbled on about how I should learn ‘real food culture’, I tuned him out and turned my thoughts to the food that was coming. Once served (it did take a while, good food does) you can guess who wasn’t head over heels for it.
“What is this crap?!!! It looks like chicken nuggets over some maple syrup with a waffle thrown in!”
“Good-good. Real fancy like.” Eddie replied before walking away.
I stuck to my motto which I knew in my heart-‘keep your mouth and mind open to new ideas’. “Really this isn’t too bad. They’re using my favorite maple syrup from the store, I use it on my breakfast burritos all the time. They could of nuked the chicken nuggets a bit longer that’s my only real complaint.”
Dr. Nickelbee started to go on about how this wasn’t what he had in mind but I wasn’t listening. My eyes glazed over and I heard the faint chorus of bumpkins. I reached for my ‘little notebook of ideas’ I carry in my back pocket, inspiration had struck.
“What are you doing?!! You’re suppose to be listening to me!!”
After a few moments of writing I looked him dead in the eye– “Pizza Waffles. Just gotta find a way to connect both together—ham or Northern Lankville bacon? Syrup or not? Gotta do some experimenting at work…”
My dining companion was getting more irate. I began to question if he was maybe a little bit jealous of my creative ideas. Or even if his continued put-downs of my taste profile were just a cover of not having his own.
The real poop hit the ceiling fan (sorry Mom for that expression but I did witness that happen in this very establishment a few years back) when the next course came out.
“LANKVILLE O’S!!!! YOUR FANCY PASTA IS JUST CANNED LANKVILLE O’S!!” Dr. Nickelbee screamed.
A little side note in case you didn’t know- Lankville is known all over the world for the ‘Lankville O’s’. We were the first to mass produce little tiny pasta put in an ‘o’ shape and then canned in tomato sauce. Many have tried to make their own version and there even been wars. I can proudly say I think we still make the finest and also proud that we have a processing plant right here in the heart of Deep Northern Suburban Lankville which employs 60% of the lesser local population.
“Dr. Nickelbee please calm down,” I countered. “You don’t want to upset people by putting down ‘Lankville O’s’. It can turn ugly fast.”
Fancy pasta with pork and quiche.
His face was turning bright red. “BUT IT’S CHEAP PASTA–JUST LIKE YOU–I BET YOU WERE CALLED ‘CHEAP PASTA’ IN SCHOOL–YOU DISGUST ME SWIRLING THAT SAUSAGE IN THAT CHEAP TOMATO SAUCE—”
Turns out mixing some of the ham (loose meat) and sausage on the plate with the tomato sauce from the ‘Lankville O’s’ wasn’t so bad. I’m sure if we had a way at the ‘Pizza-A-Round’ of coming up with a sauce which was half as good we could make something that would put us over the edge of our rivals.
I was brought back to reality with Dr. Nicklebee screaming “I HATE YOU-I HATE YOU” over and over again and running out the front door. I was glad there was only a handful of people dining at the time– an older couple sharing a plate of ‘deviled eggs in a mysterious cream sauce casserole’ (later on they would tell me it was pretty good) and a homeless man sleeping at a table in the far corner (I guess you technically can’t count that as dining).
Eddie came over and I related the whole story to him. He was nice enough to charge me for just one of the meals ($24.95) and we agreed that if I didn’t touch the quiche (which looked gross anyway) he could serve it to someone else. Luck was also on my side since I wasn’t too far from home after such a fulfilling meal. Thanks again Eddie (and by the way nice bra today).
Now I’m sure the question on your mind is will my parents make me stop seeing Dr. Nickelbee after seeing this article? I will keep you informed my gentle readers. Until next time please keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas. Happy eating-Bri
ACCOMMODATIONS
When staying in the Area Beyond the Outlands, pick the Murray. Friendly, creative staff, delightful beds, curtains. Phone Far Outlands 5-6712.
LANKVILLE DAILY NEWS: IN BOOK FORM!
The book is gone. It will never return. We hear stories but they are likely false. We live in the woods now. We make fire with a lighter that we found in the street. It was crushed by a truck but, somehow, perhaps through some intervention that is beyond us, it still works. We are waiting. We are waiting.
Original Pondicherry Association News promotional advertisement (2009)
TONIGHT ON TV! RICHARD AND THE POSTMAN REUNION SPECIAL!
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BRIAN SCHROPP IN THE LANKVILLE DAILY NEWS
The most important cuisine articles ever written.
CANDY
Jipps Co. Full Service Candy Counter! Our alert girls will push gummy drops into special paper sheaths, engage in restrained pleasantries and explain chocholate-to-nougat ratios. Call Central Lankville 3614.
CAT PHOTO
In compliance with Lankville subsection 11:16-4.
CHAMBERS CO. HAND DRILLS: When Electricity is Not an Option
When electricity is not an option consider the Chambers Company hand crank drills. Perfect for use in tight spaces, on distant islands or for drilling holes in fences to see TITS. Call 4-2309.
EMPLOYMENT
Big Ed's BBQ Shack is looking for a part-time waitress. Someone who doesn't nose around and ask a lot of difficult questions. Call Lankville Rougher Area, 5-2100.
EMPLOYMENT
Nuts, Ah! is looking for an experienced nut-handler. Experience with bagging nuts also important. If you break the nut sack, the nuts will drop onto the floor. Come in person for application to Twin Removed Pines Mall. NO CALLS.
FOX FOR PARTIES
Hire the Poetry Fox for Your Child's Next Party. Reasonable rates. Writes poems, dances, will not stand for any shenanigans. Call South Lankville 2009.
The funny stories of Dick Oakes, Jr. have thrilled millions. Look for them today in The Lankville Daily News!
GELSINGER’S ALLURE CLUB
Topless, bottomless wonderland. Mysterious back rooms. Carpeted entirely in astroturf. NO CALLS.
GREBOV BROTHERS TELESCOPE COMPANY
The Grebov Brothers are Lankville's finest purveyor of telescopes for astronomy enthusiasts. Substantial 4.5" apertures and fast f/4 focal ratios provide bright, detailed views of solar system targets like the Moon and planets, as well as wide-field celestial objects like nebulas and star clusters but also TITS.
GUMP PENETRATES
Only in The Lankville Daily News
HADBAWNIK HAUNTED STAIRCASE COMPANY
The Hadbawnik Company is Lankville's #1 installer of haunted, brush-littered staircases. Friendly non-foreign staff! Call Western (Outer) Lankville, 2154 or 2198 today.
HADBAWNIK HAUNTED BRUSH PILES!
The Hadbawnik Haunted Staircase Company is now offering haunted brush piles for use on your staircase. Create eerie, supernal ambiance. Allow the brush to blow haphazardly in the wind, creates fear, foreboding. Call our friendly staff of white people at Western Lankville, 2154. Brush piles may contain other forms of yard debris.
HEY! WANT A MONKEY?
Hey! Want a live little monkey? They do cute things like climb into pumpkins. Call "The Captain"- Central Lankville Hills, 5264.
HOME DUMP Your Neighborhood Hardware Store 16 Lankville Locations!
Weekly Special: Primitive Forged Hooks. Buy 4, Get a Can of Paint. Or Maybe Not. You'll Just Have to Find Out.
INFLAMED BY STARS AND BLOOD
Lankville's Premier Science Fiction and Horror Magazine Now Appearing in The Lankville Daily News!
JOHNNY PADRES, OPTICIAN
Lankville has been relying on Dr. Johnny Padres for their optical needs since 1973. We offer a full service family eye care center and provide examinations for glasses and contacts and have a large display of designer, traditional and innovative eyewear for both regular prescription eyeglasses and sunglasses all of which will enable you to see TITS better. Call Lankville Business 2618-2.
LIFE LESSONS FUNERAL HOME
Life Lessons Funeral Home has been helping Lankville with dead people since 1932. Contact Eddie or Stummins, Lankville Business, 5-2161.
LOOK AT THESE BEAUTIES!
Really some of our best ever! Have you ever seen anything like it? Call Kelly (male) at Lankville Sound 2615.
MISSING
Missing: adult penguin. Christ, I just let him out in the yard for one minute and now he's gone. Responds to the name "Richard". Call Lankville Eastern Outlands, 5-6213.
NOW PLAYING!
The Unhinged: A New Film by Tom "Vapor" Rayford. Crisp Street Cinema, Eastern Lankville
PINEAPPLE CITY: A New Way of Being
Pineapple City is a new way of being, feeling and having your shirt off. Located in the distant, barren Lankville Pines, Pineapple City is now accepting applications for sheds. Call PINES, 2-5771.
THE PUZZLER
In the pie chart above, what segment represents a certain specific strata of the general population?
REAL ESTATE
Little shed for sale. With door, mailbox, dirt plot. Site of multiple murders but don't worry, they happened around back. To inquire, come to the shed. Go around back.
REAL ESTATE
Four acre lot in Eastern Lankville Cove Area. Price reduced! Site of a fireworks display in which several people fell out of their lawnchairs and died. Locals believe it haunted but that's crap. Call Cove 2751.
THE RECKONER EXACTRA 2.0 : A Danny Madison Product
It's Your Time: CALCULATE
SARAH SAMWAYS: CONTRIBUTING FEMALE
Exclusively in the Lankville Daily News (and some other papers).
SPEAKING ENGAGEMENT
Robin Brox will sit around and get progressively more intoxicated while listening to this other broad natter on about something. LANKVILLE REGIONAL AUDITORIUM, August 4, 11PM.
SPEAKING ENGAGEMENT CANCELED
The Dr. M. Chambers speech and candy-making event has been canceled again following Dr. Chambers' sudden collapse into some baskets. New date TBA
TRAVEL TIPS by Randy Hammers
The Kum Back Inn in the Lankville Desert Area has long been serving road-weary travelers. They feature a restaurant (with cocktails) and two spacious conference rooms. The Kum Back boasts 65 units-- each including window dressing, some chairs and a larger chair (seats two smallish children), a bed with orange comforter, a plastic trash can, clever paintings, and a windowless door. TV also available in 17 (sometimes 19) rooms. Most of the rooms are air-conditioned. Oscillating fans available upon request. Illuminated carports will protect your vehicle from the vicious sudden dust storms that often overtake the Desert Area and the wild thieves that occasionally parade across the landscape like some unmentionable horror. Call now at TU-0780 and ask for Bud or Karen (married).
UTILITY YARD SHEDS
The Lowinger Brothers offer great utility yard sheds at low prices. This one is haunted. Call Lankville Port Area 1072.
VACATION PACKAGES!
Spectacular vacations in campers by little mountains. Your cares will melt away but you will have to be careful of that shack (pictured). A lunatic lives there. Call Mercantile District 2711.
WRESTLING TONIGHT!
8PM, Southern Lankville Man-Arena. Featuring Ric "Wild Boy" Tipps (green trunks).
ZACH KEEBAUGH INVESTIGATIONS
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The Lankville Daily News 
LETTER SACK