The Lankville Daily News

Brian Schropp on Cuisine

The minutes were counting down to the most important pizza the ‘Pizza-A-Round’ would ever make. You could start to see the crust coming through the pizza oven and in turn men’s hearts beating faster. The other components for the’ Mid Morning Snack Pizza’ needed to be in place.

“Where the hell are the nuggets Charlie?!!” my manager, Scott asked not so nicely while cleaning the actual pizza box it was going in. Everything had to be pristine since this was going to President Pondicherry himself, nothing less would do.

“In the fryer now,” Charlie the nugget guy yelled over. “You said you wanted them as crisp as possible so I waited to the last minute. Don’t worry they will be done.” Scott probably wouldn’t trust anyone else saying that. But Charlie the Nugget Guy was a seasoned veteran– he knew what he was doing.

“Burgers and fries– someone tell me about them!!” Scott was using the cleanest pizza rag possible to clean the edges of the box.

Chet Cameron, one of the best.

Al Slappy was in charge of those– maybe not the best guy under pressure. “I-I forgot the ketchup on the cheeseburgers– gotta open up the buns to put it on!!” We all know that’s a dicey situation– the bun could be damaged with the melting cheese sticking to the burger.

Scott gave a sideways glance which would make the hardest of men’s heart stop. “You better pray to whatever God you do that you don’t fuck this up. Lou get over there and help him, make sure the buns are ok and the fries are going to be ready.”

‘Two Toe’ Lou was another veteran who should of been doing it in the first place. He had only two toes from the multiple times fryer oil fell on his feet, that’s how long he has been in the game.

The pizza was a quarter way out of the oven, so far looking good. The best person on the line and probably one of the best of all time, Chet Cameron (nephew of Hank Cameron, manager of Foodville) slapped the dough out and sauced it.

‘Big’ James who is in charge of the nachos ran up with a paper cup that was full to the brim cheese. “Got this ready Scott!!”

“There is no motherlovin’ nacho cheese on this pizza!” Scott smacked the cup right out of ‘Big’ James’s hands causing the boiling hot cheese to splatter into the large man’s face. He ran off screaming, some were really losing it under the pressure.

I was back by this time– cleaned up as best as I could. Not only did this pizza have to be perfect but we needed to get there ridiculously fast. There were no drivers who were going to make it back in time so I was going to have to run it. Yes, it was an impossible task but we had no other choice.

My manager Scott relaxing at home.

Scott grabbed my shoulders and looked me up and down. “Guess it will do,” he kept muttering under his breath. Then he yelled, “Melvin bring over one of the CBs and some duct tape!”

“Why?”

“JUST DO IT!!!” Most of us who worked at the Pizza-A-Round had the feeling thatour new assistant manager, Melvin wasn’t going to make it through the night.

Scott took the CB and the duct tape and strapped the unit around my chest and the receiver around my ear. “You won’t be able to respond this is just for me to yell at you in hopes that it will help.”

The pizza was coming out of the oven, Scott raced back over and grabbed the oven peel. With the skill of a true pizza veteran he scooped it out perfectly and placed it squarely in the box. There was some light applause but Scott didn’t have any time for that. “Nuggets now!!”

Charlie the nugget guy was over with two huge oven mits holding the deep fryer net, the nuggets were still sizzling when they hit the pizza.

“Burgers and fries!! Burgers and fries!!”

Al Slappy brought the fries over the same way, then ran back and got two cheeseburgers. He handed them to Scott.

“I needed three cheeseburgers!! Pondicherry ordered an extra freakin’ one!!!” It was almost an inhuman yell.

‘Two Toe’ Lou limped past Al with a third cheeseburger. He had quickly realized the mistake and rushed to make another one. Somehow during this process he lost another toe which we could clearly see (for some reason Lou only wore beach sandals which could of been half the problem). Right now that couldn’t be the top concern. With everything on the pizza itself the box was closed immediately to keep it at its hottest. The box was placed in my hands.

No words were exchanged between Scott and I–his eyes told the whole story. I also knew there would be plenty of yelling coming my way through the CB taped to my ear. Without missing a beat Scott moved to the front door shoving customers out of the way while I followed closely on his heels. I wished that annoying girl and her boyfriend were coming in right now instead of a few minutes earlier, I would have LOVED to see those two get knocked down.

​The Mid-Morning Snack Pizza which retails for $29.95

As fate would have it I could see both of them laughing at me from the front window of the dining area when I was out on the sidewalk. I didn’t have much time to process it with Scott’s foot hitting my backside. “Run!!”
I started with a light jog since this wasn’t usually my thing but with Scott yelling at me from behind I was worried he would simply shoot me and try running it himself. I was in a full run (sweat already dripping from under my ‘Pizza-A-Round’ cap) by the time my booty was out of the parking lot and onto the road.

It was of course the evening rush hour and the roads were super super crazy. Things were made even more difficult with me sticking to the actual road and not the sidewalks in hopes of taking the most direct route possible. Cars were swerving out of the way, honking their horns, shaking their fists, even spitting at me. I kept yelling “Presidential pizza delivery!!” at the top of my lungs while the sweat poured down my face in hopes that would help. No luck, I think the drivers just couldn’t hear me. It also didn’t help matters with Scott yelling in my ear telling me to “hurry up” and “move my big ass faster”. I knew he didn’t mean most of the hateful things he would say over the CB, in fact we are actually pretty good friends, he was just stressed out.

A small ray of hope came when my former therapist, Dr.Nickelbee came driving slowly up behind in his electric car causing a traffic mess of his own. He rolled down his window. “Bri I need to talk with you.”

“Not now can’t you see I am making a Presidential pizza delivery?” I replied between heavy breaths.

“It’s important. We can talk while I drive you.” What choice did I have?

He pulled the little car over and I got in. As always, he put his hand on my knee right away. “Listen, I need to apologize to you about the way I acted the other day during our session.” (Please see my article from a few weeks ago for the details). “It was so wrong for me to lose it like that.”

“It’s OK, no worries, can you just drive now? I need to make this delivery.” The screaming in my ear wouldn’t let me forget.

Dr. Nickelbee paused for a second before collapsing into a full crying breakdown– banging his head against the steering wheel. “I just don’t want to lose you as a patient.”
“We need to go!” I could the feel the pizza losing its warmth from the box which was on my lap.

“I need you to tell me I can be your therapist again.”

“JUST DRIVE!”

“JUST SAY IT!!”

“Yes-yes now drive!”

Dr. Nickelbee– what is his problem?

With that we were off with Dr. Nickelbee still sobbing. His electric car is very slow and soon I realized it was probably quicker with me running again. It really didn’t matter– a few blocks later the car came to a stop, I guess the battery had died. He got out still sobbing, banging his fists up and down on the hood of the car. I couldn’t stop to deal with this. I was out of the car and on my way again leaving him to deal with the angry commuters he was holding up.

It was then that the problem of super squirrels came into play. Once they smelled the delicious aroma of the ‘Mid Morning Snack’ goodness and sensed that I was alone they were on my tail. I eventually had to raise the pizza above my head in an attempt to keep it safely intact. I kept shooing them off as best as I could without stopping. The only good thing to come out of the situation was when one of the squirrels bit through the CB wire, stopping the yelling in my ear.

When I finally made it to the presidential grounds the sun was starting to set and I knew I was far too late. And I knew that the ‘Pizza-A-Round’ would be going down in flames like the many others who attempted a quick delivery to our chief executive.

I slowly walked up to the guard booth where I was warmly greeted by the person on duty. He had gratefully shot at the super squirrels chasing them away when he saw me coming. “Say there son you sure are a big stinky sweaty mess.”

I handed over the box mumbling about trying to get there as quick as possible and if there was anybody to blame it was Dr. Nickelbee holding the whole thing up and he should go to prison. Then a desperate plea not to shut down my place of work.

When he realized what I was talking about the guard started to chuckle. “Say son, this pizza isn’t for the President, do you think he would eat crap like this?” The guard whistled and Pondicherry’s three dogs (all named Mr. Peepers} came running out. The guard open the box and then put it on the ground so the dogs could go to town on it. “He ordered this for these lovable mutts before vanishing into one of his underground bunkers for the night. There was no hurry in bringing it– hell, it could been another hour if need be.”

That dear readers is just another crazy night in the pizza trade. Until next time, please keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas. Happy eating- Bri

Brian Schropp on Cuisine

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

RIP Nate Grossbaum: What Were You Thinking?”

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

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

Picture of my manager Scott relaxing at home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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