ATTENTION: The Pizza Demon Is On The Loose

The capitalization in the title was not the result of a locked down caps key. No, no, my cries for attention are backed by good reason. This is not one of those "meat log blogger who cried wolf" situations, especially if you own a Papa Johns, Papa Murphy's or a Papa Hut.

Pizza, as you lovely franchise owners know it, is in danger.

Earlier this year, in a fit of ingenuity I delivered a culinary piledriver to the rulebook's spine when I boldly mixed one part sandwich and one part pizza. The result was the French Dip Pizza; a zesty and flavorful dining experience that left the rulebook with a noticeable limp.

But now, after what the Pizza Demon did, I would reckon the rulebook is down for the count.

On Monday night the Pizza Demon broke loose from his cheesy crust cage and if we ever catch the slippery bastard, a stronger cage must be built. I'm calling for crazy bread.
The P.D. tore through the kitchen, throwing caution to the wind and ingredients on the counter. The Demon slopped dough makings in one corner, dairy products in another and mounds of meat in a third. From my hiding place in the cupboard I witnessed a kneading process that made me feel sorry for the dough and nervous for the granite counter tops. From there, the whirling Pizza Devil attacked the dairy pile. To my surprise, buried underneath heaps of Beecher's cheese, (which the Demon ground at an impressive pace), was a carton of eggs. My curiosity was peak... but the Demon moved on to address the meaty mountain. Curiosity spiked. The 'Za Monsta brought bacon to a sizzle, thinly sliced Canadian bacon and chopped hot links. The smells were becoming intoxicating and the cupboard was somehow getting smaller. Fortunately, as my body was seemingly thickening, the plot really was. The Pizza Demon took the bacon from the Great White North, some stray vegetables and a few badly beaten eggs and began to concoct a scramble. While eggs changed consistency, the Demon spread its dough carefully on a cookie sheet. The care that this hideous beast showed for this aspect of the process was a jarring juxtaposition to his previous behavior but, as they say, Pizza Demons really do love pizza. The pizza ceremony continued, but not at all as I expected it.
--Pizza franchise owners are advised to pay EXTRA CLOSE ATTENTION from here on out--
The Demon disregarded sauce. Not even a white sauce! Instead it began to lay out the freshly scrambled scramble, which it topped with a Green Bayian portion of cheese. The final touch was a meaticulous garnishing of American bacon and hot links. I am still a bit astonished that the Demon did not hear my jaw as it dropped upon my cramped knees.

With a look of zeal upon its face, the Demon placed the "pizza" into the oven and plopped down in front to enjoy the show. After 15 minutes the intoxicating smell was conjuring drunken hallucinations in me. The cabinet was definitely getting smaller. My wits were approaching their end and I was flirting with desperate measures. A close quarters confrontation with a Pizza Demon, especially one on the verge of a pizza pie climax, is not something I would wish upon a Nazi Vegetable. Fortunately for me, on this day, luck was in my corner. My neighbor's big dumb dog, having smelled a far superior alternative to its normal puppy chow, wandered into the house. Pizza Demons, as you all should have been taught in prep school, are deathly afraid of dogs. And this one, despite having a glorious creation near completion, was no different. After a few tense moments of confrontation, the Demon bolted. I was free! And better yet, I had dinner. I removed the demonic creation from the oven and sliced away; tossing a slice to my canine savior before I dove in.

This was like no pizza I have ever had before. This was in a different galaxy.
The breakfast burrito now feels like a cheap cop-out and I doubt normal pizza will ever seem the same.
Lastly, if you own a pizza franchise in the Pacific Northwest, BE ON THE LOOK OUT.

THE PIZZA DEMON IS ON THE LOOSE