[b][u]THE CHRONICLES OF PINEAPPLE PIZZA - YEAST RISING[/u][/b] [u]Present Day - Mountain City[/u] Pineapple Pizza found that human biology was so.....simple compared to the symmetrical and geometrical perfection of pizza physiology. There were only three things that a pizza had to be worried about: the dough, sauce and toppings. Humans, on the other hand, had a whole host of toppings. Nervous systems, hormone glands, sweat glands and skeletons. A casserole of illogical design. " Sir." His assistant, Kiwi Pizza, arrived in his dressing room, carrying a pizza box with several scribbled notepads on it. " They're ready." Adjusting his suit and tie, Pineapple Pizza urged his human skin suit to move forth, using his superior pizza mental control to stimulate the remnants of a rudimentary nervous system within John Schnatter’s body. He ignored the strange babblings of the humans around him, moving through a series of tunnels before finding himself standing in full view on top of a proscenium stage. Before him laid an army. Rows upon rows of humans dressed in aprons and caps emblazoned with the symbol of PAPA JOHNS(™), with pizza cutters hanging from their belts and rifles in their hands. A military force that could disassemble entire nations and leave the world trembling at the power of pizza. A rogue mercenary operation that controlled the flow and production of the pizza economy. " Gentlemen, Operation Pizza Delivery has been a success. All of the major commercial pizza corporations are now under our control. We have a global monopoly on pizza. Before we begin our operations in Mountain City, I wish to dash some rumours that I like pizza." He paused for a full five minutes before continuing. " I do not like pizza.” His voice lowered an octave lower, whispering into the microphone. “ I [b]love[/b] pizza." " Throughout my life, I have found and witnessed many types of pizzas. I have found that pizzas are the solution to our enigmas. For example, you go to Papa John's, order an 18 inch and discover that you can't eat your pizza backwards. An enigma. The solution?" He looked towards the crowd expectedly before sighing in mock dissapointment. " Stuffed crust pizza. You are a pescatarian and you go out to a nearby pizza parlor, only to realize that every dish on the menu will ruin your carefully planned diet regime. The solution?" Someone piped out from the back of the crowd. " Sushi pizza." " You are a soldier doing your tour in a war-torn African region. You've run out of bullets and all you desire is the taste of a margherita pizza, just like your grandmother baked for you. Unfortunately, no delivery van can reach you." Another voice, this time from the right side of the atrium. " Pizza by drone." " Gluten allergies. Gluten free pizza. Peace treaties. Peace by pizza party. Michelin restaurants. Michelin pizzas. Halloween. Chocolate pizzas." "What I am trying to say is that I am a simple explorer of pizza. And with your help, we are now at the precipice of our true goal." " You see, I want a simple pizza. No gluten free pizzas. No pizza parties. No Michelin pizzas. No sushi pizzas and certainly, no FROZEN PIZZAS!" " I want only a pizza we can bake. A true pizza. A pizza to end all wars. The sequel to every pizza that has been ever made in history." He grabbed the microphone and shouted the last sentence in a mad fit, eyes twitching, saliva glands excreting pools of saliva that hung from his jowls, howling upwards to the sky, turning his throat raw. " A PIZZA FRANCHISE OF MY OWN!" He then pointed one stubby finger towards the crowd. " SHALL YOU HAVE PIZZA!?" As he raised his own pizza cutter in the air, a thousand pizza cutters, shaped by his will and his vision, joined him in unison, shouting the holy word that would flip the world upside down. " PIZZA!" " PIZZA!" " PIZZA!" " THEN, YOU WILL HAVE PIZZA!”