Tevun-Krus #106 - Best of '22

The Pizza Frontier - A New Frontier Story by @jinnis

The Pizza Frontier

by jinnis

I swear the explosion wasn't my fault. Okay, I was the one who made the pizza, so I'll accept part of the blame falls on me. But making pizza is my job. I'm a pizzaiolo, and I dare say one of the best in town. That's why they brought the Khobalian ambassador to my joint. His or Her Excellency's human aide—I had no clue about Khobalian gender—told me the ambassador insisted on immersing in human culture and indulging in genuine human food. And immerse they did, although not the way their entourage had planned it. 

Good pizza dough needs a lot of kneading and resting, and I only work with the best. So, it was still early, and I was kneading the dough when a blonde woman in a purple dress suit walked straight into my tiny kitchen, took in my flour-covered arms, and wrinkled her too-perfect nose.

"Are you Andrew?"

"The name is Andrea, and yes, that's me. How can I help you?"

"Can you cater for a party of twenty tonight? The Khobalian ambassador insists on visiting the countryside to get to know human customs. Unfortunately, he dines only in the best of the best native places. And I hear yours is just that. Best pizza in town, they say, even if remains disputable if the place deserves the name town. Hence I'm here in this... den." She stared at my tomato-sauce splattered apron.

I ignored her and glanced at the dining area, rubbing my moustache and taking in the restricted place. "Sure, I can fit twenty. When will you be here?" I would have to juggle the group with the usual order of takeaways, but with taxes due and the general inflation, I couldn't be picky.

"Eight sharp. Try to make the place look festive."

With clenched teeth, I watched her strut out. She stopped in the doorway, turned around and gave the well-worn wooden tables and low rafters another nose wrinkle. "I hope you live up to your reputation. For your own sake."

I was tempted to tell her to jump in a lake, but the prospect of a full house was too important. If she wanted decoration, she'd get it. In hindsight, I should have gone for plastic palm trees or something. But stupid me had to dig out the coloured light bulbs. They were an heirloom from a pre-owner of the place, early twenty-first century, if not older. I only ever used them for special festivities. Global Peace Day, We're-Not-Alone-in-the-Universe Memorial Day—this kind of stuff. They gave the place a timeless retro look I hoped the ambassador would appreciate.

The evening found me taking orders from a mixed human-khobalian delegation. I'd never met aliens before. Khobalians were tall, with several sky blue limbs resembling the tentacles of a sea anemone sprouting from barrel-shaped torsos. Four short, stubby legs at the lower end and a round head with wet black eyes that reminded me of seals topped it off. They looked harmless, but went for the strong drinks like a horde of vikings after a raid.

Soon, the party was in full swing. I served pizza as fast as I could and set my pride in making the ambassador's calzone an unforgettable experience—a dream of seasoned mushrooms, mozzarella, anchovies and caramelised garlic, pepped up with my secret pizza spice and some Caribbean rum.

To my chagrin, I succeeded. The chief Khobalian tucked in, emitting little squeals I hoped meant they enjoyed their meal. The blonde aide seemed to be satisfied—at least her nose remained straight until the ambassador stiffened and toppled over with rolling eyes. Humans and aliens rushed to their side while I fumbled with my phone to call an ambulance. Before I got a connection, the Khobalian's skin turned pale blue, then developed black spots reminding me of a leopard until an orange glow formed on my unfortunate guest's body. The surrounding air sizzled with static electricity and my precious lightbulbs exploded in unison.