Moby Dick, but make it Pizza…
Chapter 1: Pizza Cravings
Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my wallet, and nothing particular to interest me in the East Bay, I thought I would hop on the BART and ride about a little and see the pizzerias of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the craving for pizza and regulating my appetite. Whenever I find myself growing famished; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before Mama's Boy Pizza restaurant, and bringing up the rear of every pizza slice I meet; and especially whenever my hunger gets such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from going into Mama's Boy Pizza and ordering a pie for myself, then, I account it high time to get to the BART station as soon as I can.
This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Mama's Boy Pizza's menu goes down, and I let my hunger buffet me; and after many hours of travel and hunger, at last, I find myself a loyal patron of Mama's Boy Pizza in Oakland.
The pizza at Mama's Boy was unlike any other I had tasted before. Its thin crust was crispy, its sauce was perfectly seasoned, and the toppings were always fresh and flavorful. It was a pizza that could satisfy any craving, no matter how intense.
As I sat at a table, savoring each bite of my pepperoni pizza, I overheard a group of men at the next table discussing a legendary pizza slice, said to be the best in all of Oakland. They spoke of it with reverence and awe, as if it were a mythical creature that only the bravest of pizza hunters could capture.
One man, with a wild look in his eye, stood up and declared that he would find and capture the legendary slice, no matter the cost. His name was Captain Ahab, and he spoke with a passion that both frightened and intrigued me.
As I finished my last slice and paid my bill, I couldn't help but wonder about this Captain Ahab and his quest for the best pizza in Oakland. Would he succeed in his hunt, or would the legendary slice elude him forever? The thought lingered in my mind as I stepped out onto the streets of Oakland, my belly full and my curiosity piqued.
The next day, I found myself back at Mama's Boy Pizza, drawn in by the memories of the delicious pizza from the night before. As I entered the restaurant, I overheard a commotion coming from the kitchen. The staff was gathered around a pizza, gazing at it with reverence and amazement.
I approached the group and asked what the fuss was about. One of the cooks turned to me and said, "This is it, the legendary slice. We thought it was lost forever, but it was here all along."
Confused, I asked how a slice of pizza from Mama's Boy could be legendary when it was right there in front of us. The cook explained that the pizza had been made by a master pizza chef years ago, and had been served at Mama's Boy for a short time before disappearing mysteriously.
As I took a bite of the legendary slice, I felt a sense of satisfaction and closure wash over me. The best pizza in Oakland had been at Mama's Boy all along. Captain Ahab's quest for the perfect pizza had led him on a wild goose chase, when he could have simply come to Mama's Boy and tasted the best pizza in town.
With a smile on my face and a satisfied belly, I left Mama's Boy Pizza, content in the knowledge that I had found the best slice in Oakland.