W&W Cycles

Deli Disaster

It musta been the damn moldiest piece of shit I'd ever seen since I discovered, in a plastic bag, 2 months after bootcamp, my sweaty uniform shirt, but then nobody had tried to sell it as a pizza. The day had started out great: The Big Lightbulb was frying the last bits of april snow off the Boston streets, my '71 Super Glide Police Special was conveying the relaxed torque of 74 cu. in. to the rearwardly mounted cherry whitewall and made me rubber down gently across the squeaky clean blacktop. In other words: this coulda been another laid back day at the Massachusetts State Police Uniformed Branch office, if not for the sudden attack of pain in my abdominal regions that hit me in the middle of an entrancing session of "watch-that-ribbon-fly-off-the-fan-shroud". It reminded me that for over three hours my calory intake had been virtually zilch, not counting a couple of donuts.

I let my fingers do the walking and dialled: 555-PIZZA-NOW: >>One Chef's Special XXL with double cheese. Precinct 23. Shift Chief Murphy. And pronto, por favor!<< And this was what I got: The appetizing red white and green flat box was already slightly soaked and stained my desk in a promising way, further driving my aching body into a downright feeding frenzy. I tore off that lid and, lo and behold, I saw ...a formless blob of dough, decorated somewhat haplessly with bamboo sprouts, soybeans, a couple of mushrooms and: double fortune cookies. This was too much: Before you could say "tofu" I was in hot pursuit of this delivery guy.

He couldn't have gotten far, and he was in for a piece of mind. Or, even better, the crook that was responsible for this culinary Pearl Harbour. Only a block later I was zeroing in on the red white and green painted Hyundai, who took the short route to the commercial port. Asia quay. Berth 12 A. Vessel >Seoul Freezemeister<.

You're not gonna believe this: straight out of the deep freezer a posse of shortlings, all dressed in black, were slapping unsightly blobs of dough onto a muddy brown conveyor belt that slowly propelled the "pizzas" across some sort of laser powered microwave oven, from which they were - robotically boxed - dumped into the boot of a Hyundai.

There and then, I had a vision. For the first time in my life I felt something rising within me that wasn't heartburn and I knew that America's honour and that of millions of pizza lovers worldwide was at stake and I knew I would clean up, just like my great-great-great-great-grandfather Abraham L. Murphy had done at the Boston Tea Party in 1773.

Switching on my siren was enough to turn the quay into a quartermile of chaos: Little black belts were legging it up the gangway. Me in pursuit, the siren in >brain-busting< mode, I careened across the rear deck until even the last one of them had taken the only way out: "Waaaah...ker-splash!" Suddenly, a mean swishing noise from 11 o'clock: I spied a bunch of razor sharp frozen pizzas coming my way from the bridge. One twist of the throttle, my 74 went on it's rear wheel like a bronco and by nifty wiggling I dodged the deathly pizzas.

Just in time to see the only white belt around- the boss? - trying to make a quick getaway with a forklift. Ker-plonk-a-duh-dunk, down the gangway I go, grab two pizzas from the conveyor belt, slam it under the forklift's accelerator, roll up the other one into a tight roll and block the forklift's exhaust pipe. It coughed, caught again and went uncontrollably over the quay wall and rammed it's forks into the rustbucket's belly, just under the waterline, exploding neatly on impact. With a gurgling noise that made the sinking of the Titanic come across like a fart in the bathtub, the old girl bade adios to the surface and as I was contemplating the last bubbles and pizzas that bobbed on the water I saw a fortune cookie just in front of my feet. With a knowing smile I read: "Happiness waits, if tell friends only truth".

Will Cop Hal tell us that story again? Will the part with the whitewalls be in it again and how much is a 5.10" x 16"?

Tune in next time when Cop Hal asks: "Don't we all tend to overdo it sometimes and would Confuzius have appreciated such a pizza?"