Adaptive Curmudgeon

Pizza Hunting

Cat Rotator’s Quarterly has a short fiction post I heartily recommend (hat tip to Bayou Renaissance Man). Here’s a clip to whet your appetite:

Gina, holding her breath, watched as the wild pizza rippled toward the trap.

“Quiet,” Lui hissed. “Don’t spook it. We need it all the way in the box.”

It acted suspicious, moving slowly between the spiny, stunted trees. She couldn’t tell what kind it was yet, but she really hoped it wasn’t another black olive. No one had managed to find an olive breed that didn’t squirt foul smelling brine when they got mad or scared. The pizza fluttered along, closer and closer. It stopped flat, studying the box, then eased part of its crust in. Gina exhaled as quietly as she could, then inhaled. She caught a bit of spicy red scent as the breeze puffed across the trap. Now half the pizza lay in the box, and she eased her finger back, taking the slack out of the trigger. The last bit of crust flopped into the box.

“Snap!” She pulled the trigger and the top of the flat box dropped…

With a start like that how can anyone not read the rest?

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