P I Z Z A T I M E

10PM on a Rainy Friday Night



A mulligan of smells fills the clustered street sunk deep into the pits of the Cardinal Boulevard of New Otford, hidden away from tourists. Smells of exotic booze with the respective alcoholic barging into passerby's to follow. The stench of a rich Cuban cigar flowing out from underneath an umbrella in which two figures stand, conversing about the night. The essence of a signature New Otford pizza that the lucky few to know of swear by it as the best they've had. All of this coated by the slight scent of the rain, as it beats down on the roofs of cars, the shutters of stores, the umbrella which the duo carry and scanty hookers getting tossed around the streets, turned down person by person, like a responsibility no one wants. 

It's a wonder why anyone would want to come here, it's not particularly in the nicest area, nor does it have the best company around. But there's one diamond in the rough, The Leviticus, a pizzeria few know of, but the few who do are sure to spend their money on it when they can. 

The inside, past the open shutter-doors, is a rather small room, with a Ninety Degrees counter on the far right side, and cheap tables and diner chairs on the left. The walls barely decorated bar some cracks and a few homely photos of The Chef and customers with grins on their faces and seemingly a full stomach. The floor cracked just as much as the wall is. Behind the counter a tall Hispanic man somewhere between his mid-thirties and early forties. He dons a checkered shirt rolled up, with a black apron barely tied on, the black contrasting the colors of white flour and red sauce. His hair isn't tied up what so-ever, the small afro free to breath in the smoke coming from the wood-fire furnace behind the man. Shelves of trays, deep and thin line the walls, and at the end of the counter are multiple plant plots, none with any sprouted plants.

The man seems occupied, cooking something up, however he has time to respond to the odd questions a youthful man quiz's. Some chuckling and grinning in between. 

"Why did you set up here again, Mateo? It's a hell-hole around these parts."
"You know, it being a hell-hole is what keeps my bills low, Toji."
"Don't think your medical bill'll be low when some lucky drunkard from the club over comes in feeling lucky and stabs you. Besides, looking at the walls and floor, you're barely covering your bills."
"I trust I won't see one of those lucky drunkards in some time, the people 'round here fancy me a bit"
"Better safe than sorry, no? Why don't we make a joint-business Mateo, set up one on the lake front. We'll call it the uhh-- Let's go with The Genesis"
"Making coffee doesn't mean you'd be good at making pizza."
"I could give it a shot, how hard could it be? You just gotta give me some of those fancy plants to throw in the pizza and it won't taste too bad"
"I'll pass, I like it here, the people are nice when they have dough, cheese and sauce in their stomachs. Besides, you couldn't stick with what the old man gave you. Had to go from just making coffee to these fancy iced drinks now."
"How long is that dough, cheese, sauce and plant going to take, anyway Mateo?"