One Pizza at a Time

They say that hell is other people, which turns out to be literal given the number of people I see below. You can’t see the ground in this valley of Hell because of all the people in it. I sigh and begin hiking down the slope.

My feet were shaking. The other people were going so calmly while I was shaking like an earthquake, maybe hell wouldn't be those people, maybe hell was inside me. I stopped to put well my shoe on, but in the meantime

I couldn’t shake the impression that all these gliding types, gliding to and from who knew where, were ghosts. Alive? Maybe - but that grotesque calm... almost more dead. I keep near-steady and forward, lost in thinking- then collided and collapsed. And it standing there over me!

“Can I help you?” it said in a muffled, mumbling kind of voice. “You must be new here.” “No, I’m fine,” I replied nervously. “I… I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings. Th-that’s all.” “I see. Do be more careful from now on, young man.”

It shuffled off into the dim light beyond the closest shelves. I dug in my pockets, trying to find some clue as to what I was doing in a used book store. I found a folded slip of paper in my back pocket, but all that it read—in beautiful handwriting—was "No more Judith Krantz!!!"

Judith Krantz? Who is that? And why is her name enclosed in brackets? So many questions, not enough answers. I put away the note and was greeted by a famous children’s book, right in front of my detective eyes. “The Giving Tree, by Shel Silverstein.” And his name was in brackets.

The whole thing smelled of antiseptic. Freshly sterilised, it seemed. Couldn’t take any chances, especially not during the pandemic. I collected both books and headed out the store. I went home and engaged in extensive study. Not once have I left the study room. I was focused.

I was dedicated, I was disciplined, and I was committed to finding the Secret of the Ooze. Only my hunger for pizza could distract me from my goal.

The doorbell rang and my mind went blank. Overwhelmed by the aroma of anchovies and grilled onions smothered in cheese, I drifted toward the door and let in the bearer of this glorious, crusty gift. “What’s all this ooze?” the delivery boy asked.

"It looks like-." The delivery boy didn’t have time to finish his sentence before he fell to the floor, unconscious. My odorless enslaving pizza ooze had worked. In a few minutes, he’d wake up and follow my every command. I smiled. I’d take the world over one pizza at a time.