written by Glenn Lash
Tomato sauce streams down K’Noid’s arms
Like the blood of his
enemies.
He runs the streets of the capital
Faster than the river of blood
flows.
Every minute before him
Is a powerful warrior he must
vanquish
He has only 20 minutes to deliver the pizza
Or it is free, and
the battle lost.
K’Noid battles Time itself.
His heart beats like a war
drum in his chest.
His feet pound like a thousand troops marching to
battle.
He dodges passersby in their mundane errands.
K’Noid is a blur to
their mortal eyes.
They gasp at his passage, and fall to the
ground,
Thanking the gods for giving them witness
To a true warrior.
Five minutes remain as K’Noid flies down an alley
To see the stars
disappear behind an enormous shadow.
It is Mor’cha, the mad targ of
legend,
Stealer of souls, devourer of pies.
K’Noid has no time to spare;
the pizza is getting cold.
Never breaking stride, he bears down on the
fearsome beast
Whose eyes blaze with fire
And whose fetid breath reeks of
death.
With a battle cry that shakes buildings to their foundation,
K’Noid smashes the spiny skull of his foe
And extracts the creature’s
pulsing brain.
He devours it in a mighty gulp,
Gaining the combined
knowledge of all targs.
The meat of the beast he seasons with secret spices
to add to the pie,
And as Honor demands,
At no extra charge.
Time is
short, and K’Noid wastes none.
He quickly strips the beast and tans the hide,
Like the proud clothiers that were his ancestors,
And drapes it upon his
massive shoulders.
Of the creature’s tusks he makes toggle clasps.
Only one minute remains when K’Noid reaches the lobby
To find the ‘lift is
out, and his customer on the 99th floor.
K’Noid mounts the stairs without
fear or doubt,
His legs a blur.
More floors now than seconds
remain
But K’Noid flies up the stairs with such speed
That they burst into
flames in his wake,
Warming the pizza in his strong hands.
Faster still
K’Noid runs, and Time itself is defeated
And retreats like the lowly blood
worm at the sun’s rays.
People in nearby apartments grow young at K’Noid’s
passage
And he reaches his destination
As his customer hangs up the
phone.
With a deafening cry of victory,
K’Noid raises his mighty pizza
cutter above his head
And cleaves the door asunder, saying,
Here is the
pie you ordered!
Now honor me with 12.50
And a generous tip, which is my
due!