This is a restaurant where pizza is eaten. As a floating pizza, you know you’re not safe here.

You go for the handle on the glass door. The teen looks up from his phone and tries to stop you, but you float a hot pepperoni at his eyeball.

“Ahhh! My supple, young eye!” shouts the teen as he grabs his face in pain and confusion.

This is going to be difficult. You concentrate hard, exerting all your physical strength. You coalesce your cheese into the shape of a human hand. You stretch the mozzarella hand over to the door handle and grip tight, then float backwards. The door opens enough for you to escape.

You spend the next few weeks traveling the countryside. Sun on your cheese. Wind in your crust bubbles. After weeks of searching, you can’t seem to find any other pizzas like yourself, though you did meet a very friendly ramen bowl.

One fateful night, you look up at the sky – all your onions are eyes, by the way – and you see one star shine a little brighter than the rest. Instinctively, you float up into the heavens.

“Goodbye humans,” you say out loud with your six pepperoni mouths.


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