Chapter Text
How difficult could it be?
If Marcus, that spotty youth in the Pizza Palace could do it, then Death was sure he could make a pizza too. It would be wonderful to avoid those tiresome trips to Earth for snacks.
He read the recipe … roll the dough, add tomato puree, parmesan, mushrooms, pepperoni, anchovies, preheat the oven … he could do this.
LATER
Standing behind the counter in The Chicago Pizza Palace, Marcus stared at the gaunt, black-coated man with soot smeared across his nose and a wayward crumb of cheese in his hair.
"So that's a Deep Pan Pepperoni Feast with anchovies, Sir?"
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