“Order up, bitch boy!” said BeBop into his portable communication device. Pomade was already almost back from his delivery. Pizza max always had to keep him on the grind.

“Ten four, sicko!” shouted Pomade, as he exited the off ramp and pulled into the bay of the parking lot. “Ko Konga, Rwanda. Let’s get this show on the road!” The drone was already waiting with the fresh pies. His ride got loaded up and he was out before he was even in.

Fuel pumped into the skies as he kicked back and let the audi-mati take this one. He popped up his InterTuber account and pulled up a recommended video as his car drove along at twenty miles per hour. A fat man appeared on screen after an introductory clip. He began to speak.

“Hey Bobbie Bobert Family! Remember to like and subscribe! You can buy this cool new merch shirt we just put up on our store, or you can provide a monthly donation to keep this channel going!” A picture of a skull appeared next to him.

“But now to todays topic. Have you looked outside recently? I have. There’s scum on the streets. Homeless immigrants wanting to steal your jobs. Wanting to take your opportunity away from you. Can you believe that? I know it’s hard to hear but its true. Facts don’t care about your feelings, bucko.”

Pomade got bored of this and skipped to the next video. It was of a woman wearing nothing but feathers with elongated features. Purple lights flashed on her face.

“Babies, have you ever felt the need to rage against the machine? Darling I always feel this way! But you may ask, ‘Gabby, you profit off the machine! How can you sit here any complain about it?’ Well in response I ask you this, how did we get our rights to adopt dogs after The King passed a bill to ban it? We used our cellphones and InterTuber! That’s how, babies. We use the tools at hand, even if they were created under this machine.”

Boring. He flipped to the next one.

“Have you ever thought about how cubes, are just rectangles, but less fat?”

Next.

“Kittens are part of the Druid Question, in this Fred Talk I will-”

Next.

“I will now repeat the phrase “It’s Pizza Time” one thousand times.”

Perfect.

“It’s pizza time.”

Pomade closed his eyes for a little bit. He had been working all day. He was tired.

“It’s pizza time.”

He didn’t look at the clouds above, but he heard a chirping. Droneo. About forty of em’. Flying in fast, way faster than he could go in this deadlock.

“It’s pizza time.”

He sat up fast. The next off ramp was four lanes over about half a mile up. He put his blinker on. Good thing he had filled up on blinker fluid recently.

“It’s pizza time.”

He flipped on his disrupter setup. Checked his map. He’d only be off by about ten minutes with the detour.

“It’s pizza time.”

The drones came closer, hovering a few yards above the parking lot of vehicles.

“It’s pizza time.”

Pomade clenched the steering wheel, one lane over. Two more to go. Fuck-a-roo.

“It’s pizza time.”

One more to go. The drones were just a few feet above him.

“It’s pizza time.”

He was over all the way. He sped forward and pulled down the exit. He looked behind him to see the drones collectively pick up an eco-friendly brand vehicle. Anything that ran off electricity for fuel wasn’t allowed on the freeway. What an idiot.

“It’s pizza time.”

He was able to exit and flipped a righty on the underpass. He was finally at the apartment complex for the drop up.

“It’s pizza time.”

“Your damn right it’s pizza time.” said Pomade, under his breath, nearly inaudible, to himself. He flipped the video off. The pizza boxes were a patchy dark brown. Good. “The oil is just right. C’mon, lets bro-on.” he said to himself, out loud, in the empty parking lot. Straight on up to the seven flights of foot poppers down on to the drop off. He knocked on the door. “Pizza delivery!”