Sunday, December 25, 2016
“Pizza?” Bobbo questioned.
“Isn’t that leftover pizza from Friday?” Brooke asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Max moaned, shoving a piece in his mouth. “I would rather eat month old pizza than those gruel nuggets or those wax vegetables they ran under hot water.”
Tuesday. Max sat down with Bobbo and Brooke. He had nothing on his tray but a cinnamon puff and chocolate milk.
“No lunch?” Brooke asked.
“No pizza,” Max mumbled. “And I don’t like tomato soup.”
“It’s chili,” Bobbo said.
“It’s tomato soup. With beans,” Max exclaimed.
Wednesday. Bobbo and Brooke sat down with Max who had a box of pizza in front of him. Next to him, he had a carton of chocolate milk.
“Bring your lunch?” Bobbo asked.
“Oh, yeah. And it’s much better and filling than whatever those breadsticks are trying to do.”
“They’re Italian dunkers,” Brooke pointed out the liquidy meat and marinara sauce in a plastic cup.
“They’re garbage,” Max protested, chewing his pizza.
Thursday. Bobbo and Brooke sat down with Max who had just a carton of chocolate milk. “Max? What’s wrong? You’re shaking,” Bobbo asked, concerned.
“No pizza. Nothing to eat,” Max lamented.
Bobbo looked down at his tray with baked ziti, roasted vegetables, broccoli, and fruit snacks. “Max, there’s baked ziti tod…”
Brooke interrupted him. “Don’t even try.”
Friday. Max sat down with Bobbo and Brooke. He had three pieces of the rectangular pizza on his tray along with some salad, carrots, and a cinnamon roll, along with his chocolate milk.
“Three?” Bobbo questioned.
“The lunch ladies and I have an understanding,” Max said.
“You have a problem, Max,” Brooke said. “You’re going to turn into a pizza someday.”
“That sounds delicious,” Max salivated.
In U.S. History, Mr. Fletcher had put on a movie about a white guy living with Native Americans and fell asleep behind his desk. Max had also fallen asleep and even slept through the dismissal bell.
“Max, come on. We need to get to science,” Bobbo shook Max awake.
Bobbo and Max arrived in the science classroom and sat at their desks. Ms. Hinck, a short and chubby woman, raised her hand to get the student’s attention and began talking. “Okay, class, I promised you something neat today. We’re going to look at gamma radiation,” she said, and pulled a giant futuristic-looking gun out from behind her desk. The kids exclaimed in awe. “Now, everyone look at that potato I have sitting on that stand. I’m going to shoot some gamma radiation at it. Watch what happens.”
Ms. Hinck pulled the trigger and a beam of radiation came out and hit the potato. Within seconds, it was cooked and soon exploded. The kids exclaimed in delight again.
“Who wants to try it?” Ms. Hinck asked. Several kids’ hands shot up. “Trent, come on up.” Trent snickered and walked up to Ms. Hinck. She handed him to the gamma ray gun. “You can shoot it at one thing that’s not another student.”
“Aw, man. You’re safe today, Bobbo,” Trent scoffed. He looked around the room and saw a mirror hanging over the sink. He aimed and shot. The radiation hit the mirror, bounced off, and hit Max in the back.
“Naargh!” Max exclaimed and shuddered in his desk. “I feel weird.” Max began growing, getting to twice his height but he also grew pepperoni and his skin became a mixture of crust and cheese. The kids in science class scattered at the sight of Max becoming a human pizza monster. “Hungry!” he growled.
Max shoved desks out of the way and crashed through the door and headed to the cafeteria. The kitchen staff was just finishing cleaning up when Max burst through the doors. “Kitchen’s closed,” one of the ladies said.
“Pizza,” Max growled.
“I said...Oh, my. Our pizza is in there,” she pointed to the giant walk-in fridge. “It’s not warmed up.”
“Warm. In. Belly,” Max said. He ripped the door off of the walk-in and saw the pieces on a large, flat baking pan. He began downing the pieces one-by-one. With each piece he grew bigger and bigger. Soon, he broke through the ceiling of the school. Alarms in the school began going off and the students ran away.
Sirens could be heard in the distance. With the last piece of pizza in his hand, waving it over his head, Max bellowed “Pizza!” as the police cars and fire trucks arrived with military arsenal close behind.
“Max, wake up,” Bobbo finally just moved Max’s chair nearly causing him to fall out. “We need to get to science.”
“Man,” Max seemed to sigh in relief. “I had the weirdest dream.”
“Was it about pizza?” Bobbo asked.
“Yeah. How did you know?”
“You kept muttering ‘pizza’ in your sleep,” Bobbo said.
“Sorry. My Mom says I do that a lot.”