“Looks like you got sauce on your shirt,” said King Fender.
“That’s just the spicy tomatoey color of my shirt,” said King Corbett.
“Looks like you got sauce all over your suit, too” said King Fender.
“That’s just the blood-red color of my majestic fashion finery,” said King Corbett.
“Yeah, so what about you?” King Corbett asked. “Your suit looks pretty cheesy”
“That’s the pure white mozzarella color of my regal threads by Leo DeAngelo, tailor to the stars.”
“How bout that shirt”
“The innocent cream color of fresh scamutz.”
And so it goes in the Pizza Kingdom, where the Kings are one slice short of a pie and proud of it, where their calling is a cut above the others and where pizza is heaven and the cheese and sauce supreme.
Tomorrow, yet another inductee enters the Northeastern Pennsylvania Pizza Hall of Fame.
Don’t even think about asking how hard coal country’s Pizza Kings decide who’s in and who’s not. We got our ways. And, like the secrets of the sauce, we’re not telling nobody nothing about nothing.
Countless pies ands trays circulate each day in the Pizza Kingdom. Some are better than others and some aren’t even good. But some are special – saucy even if they’re white and lack even the slimmest slice of tomato. Pizza Kings look for pizza attitude, that crusty edge that comes with maturity, experience and good taste.
Not everybody makes the Hall. Even some of the best remain on the outside looking in. We’re like Major League baseball. Everybody in the majors is good, not everybody is even close to being a Hall of Famer. So each month we await the next parlor, bar or restaurant to come to out attention and make the grade.
The Pizza Kings will arrive at WILK News Radio tomorrow afternoon in all their glory, pulling into the parking lot in that seasoned used Cadillac that Elvis once owned and was donated to the Kings to use for their royal appearances.
Hey, don’t even think about asking for proof that Elvis owned the Caddy. We told the guys we got it from in Old Forge that we’d keep the details secret – like the secrets of the sauce.
This month’s finalist will be in the building by 1 p.m., bringing trays and pies or whatever he calls his product. That’s his call. The Kings will eat the pizza and decide if he makes the cut. Maybe he will and maybe he won’t. The Pizza Kings always reserve the right to throw a nominee out of the building.
We’re as hardcore as aged anchovies.
We’ll not only eat the pizza, we’ll interrogate the owner, asking questions about his or her background, asking about history, rivalries, vendettas and the like. We’ll take it all into consideration before we decide. Then we’ll move and we’ll move fast.
The Pizza Kings don’t take no guff, either. Think you can bribe your way into the Hall? You better think again, chooch. This isn’t some cheap judicial chambers where you can waltz in with an envelope loaded with dough. And don’t even offer the use of heavy equipment in exchange for anything, including the hope of us going easy on you, ya goof, ya.
Pull that stunt and you might get something that’s not on the menu. Pizza Kings don’t play. Push your luck and we sent Ellio G to your house. We don’t want no trouble and don’t expect any. We just expect a primo pizza.
So tomorrow’s the big day.
We hear the guy got Sicilian blood. We hear he’s coming with a bodyguard. We hear he’s a little nervous about the Pizza Kings looking him over. But don’t worry about nothing, champ.
The pizza Kings are fair. The Pizza Kings are honorable. Above all the Pizza Kings are hungry for the best because, in the Pizza Kingdom the best is always yet to come.