late and right on time.

better late than never-
that's usually reserved for non-life threatening scenarios.
i mean,
an antidote of critical medicine showing up ten minutes after you die from
venomous poisonous lethality?
laaaaaame.
so,
it's reasonable to say that never is equivalent to late, really, in certain instances.
but,
when we're talking about the triumphant tossing of a wheel or two of pizza?
damn, duders-
in that case,
it doesn't matter time it is when i get home,
or how long the flippin' oven takes to preheat,
or even if we've got enough ingredients....
whatever, whenever, and however....
as long as there's pizza for the eating,
late is better than never.
because never pizza is the sh!ttiest state of the world i can envision,
and that's just not somewhere i'd ever want to live...
seriously.
i'll fire up a slice or two or four or six at any hour,
and even if i was hungry at dusk,
i'll still terrorize a overzealous 'za at full dark.
i mean,
c'mon-
any time is a good time for pizza.
so,
i guess a long day of overlapping little zips and zaps that kept me at the studio
for longer than i'd have liked could've been a whole lot worse.
after all, i got paid to be there,
i got to tell stories all dang day long,
and i think i did some decent work while i was at it-
plus,
there was pizza at the tail end, and that's a great way to end any day.
working a little extra isn't so bad;
neither is starting my mise en place while the ovenly lovin' takes forever
to get up to speed, and up to temp,
in order to stay superheated and ready to ragnarok
some unruly rolled doughy doo-doo into the upper echelons of edible excellence...
it all fades away once the food is on the table.
i'm just sayin'-
sourdough crust,
underchee',
and crushed tomatoes.....
everything else we put on top of that is pure bonus round brownie points.
mmhmmm.
and you all already know i'm about that extra credit jauns, neighbors.
you don't?
sure you do.
you know the rules-
too much is the right amount,
and if ten is perfect, eleven is perfectER.
check the overtopped-over-the-top-type teleport:

collards and soysages and caramelized onions!
that's good.
but,
the next one was even better:

broccolini, brussels, baconish, and sweet onions!
wow.
the heavy load of on-top treats;
all those bits and pieces operating as one cohesive unit?
a collective crescendo of crust and sauce and chee' two way,
plus green stuff, and brownish protein particles....
it's F*ing teamwork, the way everything plays a vital role,
and plays it to perfection.
*
i truly get happier when i'm eating pizza.
y'know why?
duh.
because pizza is expert.
don't be dumb, kids.
also,
i think i'm better when i'm running late.
i mean it.
like,
i draw up some reserves, and turn up the fires,
and poke and stoke 'em until i'm just as stoked as the raging pyre that powers my pulse.
yikes!
i'm sure my coworkers and most of my neighbors would prefer never, though.
just ask 'em-
i'm much much better never, or not at all, or ever,
but,
late will have to do;
small lapses in the sonic assault are all i have to offer.
i'm spitting hot fire, or, at least creating cascades of caustic consonants constantly,
a double-bass-boosted breakbeat barrage on every set of eardrums i can hit.
why do i do that?
because i've got a grind date to make,
and true stories and pizza are all i've got to go on.
it's ALL really happening.
none of it is pretty,
most of it is hard,
and all of it is real;
never quiet, never soft.....