Max Batik Greensky was contemplating the amount of pizzas he could procure if he were to pour his entire life savings after the pursuit. It would be a lot of pizza. Definitely a satisfying amount, but would it last a lifetime?
He knew he must know the answer to that question, and so began his cumbersome quest in haste. He threw some cucumbers and matches and various folderol into his knapsack, and then decided to take a cat nap. He woke up and packed his cat.
Extra hair, check. Compass, check. Map of the world, check. Max didn’t know where his answers lay, but he did what so many others before him had done: he headed for the border.
With cat and cucumbers in tow, Mr. Greensky’s knapsack was quite burdensome. “I wish I had me some sort of me transporter,” mused Max. Right then a big, lumbering vehicle that looked like something between a bus, a pipe organ, and an oil refinery gently approached him with puffs of steam shooting in various directions and an intriguing, strangely pacifying hum emanating ambiently from it.
“Greetings!” shouted the vehicle. “I am your spirit-transport guide. I can take you anywhere except Chicago — I hate that place.”
Max thought it foolish to look a gift spirit-transport guide in the mouth and he had no need to go to Chicago, so he hopped into what he thought must be the driver’s seat. There were myriad of wheels, knobs, sliders, levers, gauges, dials, and displays blinking rhythmic, unrecognizable patterns, none of which Max had the least inclination toward the meaning of.
He started turning dials and flipping switches for the hell of it. The vehicle did its best Jack Nicholson impression and then asked about where he could take ol’ Greensky to. “Take me to the place where I can find out if I have a lifetime’s worth of pizza.” And so it was. In a flash he was at the root of some mountain somewhere.
A wizen old man sat hovering a couple inches from the ground, chanting what must’ve been some ancient Sutra. The tone of his voice was astoundingly pure. He may not have been from this world. Surely this must be the place to obtain pizza wisdom! Emboldened, Max stepped out from the minute hedge he was crouching behind. “I was wondering if you think I would have a lifetime’s worth of pizza–” But as soon as Max spoke the word “pizza” the old man turned into a huge stack of vintage Playboy mags and never spoke another word ever again. Disheartened, Max vanished into the forest.