An Ode to Hot Box Pizza: A Three Part Tale
Matt Brown | Monday, February 8, 2010
1. Parietals were nigh
And my Hunger was high
Lost and alone I proceeded to cry,
Traversing the tundra back to my dorm,
Hankering for a pizza but denied by the swarm
Of post-party patrons and Friday night norm.
Like fallen Prometheus chained to a rock,
Hunger tore my chest, my pantry not stocked,
Growing and building watching the clock
As it counted the minutes of hunger and strife,
Stomach growling and stabbing as if with a knife,
If I didn’t act soon this could mean my life,
I cried out “alas!” and threw up my fists
What I would do for good lobster bisque.
2. In strode a stranger with hope on his heels,
A twinkle in his eye, and a phone in his fist,
His voice brought clarity, a light in the mist,
He knew what to do for late night meals
He spoke of a place, delicious and cheap,
The sultan of fast food,
The best of the brood,
He typed in their number beep after beep,
Within a matter of moments the info was down,
A pizza, a price, a ten-minute wait,
Were the only things keeping me from meeting my fate,
The pizza was coming from barely across town.
With its fleet footed drivers patrolling the streets,
Hot Box Pizza delivers a pie covered with meat.
I opened the box and oh, what a smell,
I saw the one pizza that could save me from hell,
Looking at heaven, not believing my luck,
If this were a woman surely we’d … go out to dinner
3. The crust firm yet supple under my touch,
Feeling its weight I hoped I hadn’t bitten off too much,
The pizza called to me like a small child,
“Eat me, please eat me,” the words driving me wild.
At my first bite, I knew it was love,
The meal was a gift sent from above,
Cheesy and warm, meaty and filling,
And to think, it only cost me a shilling!
The meaning of this tale I’m sure is quite clear,
Hot Box Pizza is food without peer.