WELL-DONE THOUGHTS ABOUT PIZZA

I am puffed up and about to eructate.
Please imagine a bloated frog.
The effects of pizza.

Monday is cheese pie day in the little slice of heaven known as our office. Which is now down in Hayward. In an industrial park. Near train tracks. Far from anything.
So of course lunch gets brought in.
The person in charge of Monday eaties has confessed that if it were up to him, everyday would be pizza day. Life is too short NOT to have pizza. There aren't enough days in the year to eat all the pizza an amiable middle-aged man needs (in his view), and both the last supper and the very first supper were undoubtedly pizza.
Cheese pie. Flat, crusty, and just enough grease to make you happy.
Pizza is the fruit of sin and the spice of life combined.
Eat it!


Related thereto, my friend Kevin, who lives in Florida, informs me that due to the exceptional amount of rain they've had this summer, swamps which had long dried out have come back. And the frog population has exploded. Trailer park dwellers paddle canoes past dense blankets of them on their way to their pickup trucks parked on high ground near the road. Millions of small green fat critters, croaking and ribbiting among the tall weeds, thriving most marvelously on the bugs which are also plentiful because of the wetness.
Then getting on the roads, where they are flattened by traffic.
Commuters hydroplaning on amphibian protein slime.
A layer of green, red, and flat.

Parts of it are crisping on the hot tarmac, but there is so much that the smell is bestial.
Rich and fecund, like some kind of swamp.
Oh wait, it's Florida....
It IS a swamp.

What you need is a spatula, and maybe a pizza cutter.
Scoop 'em up, and dry them on the roof for later.
Or fry them in bacon fat, to disinfect them.
Just add chili flakes, for a cheap feast!
Plus a wee sprinkle of Parmesan.

"Finish your plate, honey."
"Don't wanna!"
"Why not?"

" 'Cause it tastes like FROG!!!"

"Well at least eat the green stuff....."


Please note: the frogs are real, but my mean-spirited characterization of Florida cuisine is not. Never having been there, I can only imagine what they do. Still, all that free protein going to waste.
It's a shame, is what it is.
Green road pie!

Someone ought to do something.

Everything tastes better with chili flakes and Parmesan.


dot.    dot.    dot.


I want to thank Scott for providing all of us with a tasty lunch and a glimpse into his world, and Angela for making a chocolate pie so incredibly rich that it left me buzzing and trembling.
I am the flittering insect born in the receding waters.
I am the vibrating haze above the asphalt.
I am the brazen frog on the road.
I am Anurid, hear me croak.

Squish.


==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================