A normal day in Anchorage, Kentucky for some but not for John Schnatter. It’s almost noon and the sun shining through the estate glistens off his reddened greasy face as he feverishly orders a pizza off the Papa John’s app. “John you didn’t order another pizza did you? You promised we’d have lunch together…” said his wife annoyed yet worried. “No….No of course not. We’ll have lunch together as promised.” he says as he forces a smile and nervously wipes some drops of grease off his forehead. He wonders why he ever married this woman who has no knowledge or passion for pizza the way he does. He stares out the window and manages a genuine smile this time as he thinks about his day of reckoning that will come to pass. Soon the fools will all see. Papa will show them all and there will be fury and retribution. “Honey did you say something?” she calls from the doorway. “Oh I was just reminding myself of something I gotta get done. Just thinking out loud, sweetheart.” he says calmly without breaking his gaze from the window. Jesus how much of that did I say out loud, he thinks. Come on Papa gotta keep it together just a little longer. Can’t pour the marinara just yet, Papa. He snaps out if it suddenly and realizes he has no idea how much time has passed. He hears the shower going, perfect. He pulls his phone out and hurriedly attempts to check the status of his order and the grease on his hands and on the phone makes him fumble it as it drops and slides across the floor. “FUCKING….GODDAMN IT!!” he exclaims and scrambles to pick it up and regain his composure. He looks at the screen and runs his free hand through his hair and wipes the oil running down his hand on his second shirt for the day. The pizza is on it’s way and he makes his way to the side gate with haste. He no longer hears the shower and knows it will only be a matter of time before he has to get ready for a “nice” lunch with some “real” food. He scoffs at the notion but knows as long as he makes “effort” she won’t say anything. Still he can feel his patience is thin and it’s hard to mask his fury as he won’t get as much time with this one as he normally would. But progress is progress and the risk was worth it. The risk excited him, even, and made him feel ways he hadn’t in some time. He stops at a closet and looks to see the coast is clear before grabbing his dummy Amazon box. He would need a replacement soon as this one had grease stains beginning to bleed through. Part of him didn’t want to and the smell was so tantalizing but he knows this will be it’s last transport. He makes his way to the gate and greets his favorite delivery guy. “Bridges!” he exclaims as he warmly approaches him. “Show Papa what ya got for me, Sam” he says coyly as he opens the Amazon box for the drop. “BT’s were heavy this time and the timefall did a bit of a number on the box but should be just as good for your needs, John” Bridges says cautiously but optimistically. He was enjoying his deliveries to John less and less as he could clearly see the man becoming a shell of himself and his sanity degrading. Not to mention the smell. GOD the smell. John’s eyes look over the box and pizza and then his eyes look up to Sam and narrow. “Didn’t we have this discussion a week ago, Sam? There is no John Schnatter….IT’S PAPA” he shouts as drops from the oil that cover him fly off his brow, nose, and lips. Sam takes a couple steps back and raises his hands up. “Okay…It’s okay…you’re right, it’s Papa”. John calms and nods and closes up the box. “I tipped on the app. Find a different route this is cutting too close to being subpar, Sam.” John says already making fast strides back into his estate. “Yes, Papa, I’ll look into that for the next haul.” Sam says convincingly but he has already decided this would be his last here. Someone else can handle this shit but it won’t be him. Not anymore. He rides off but feels a foreboding feeling from the estate that stirs the BB and doesn’t pass until he gets back to his private room. John walks in and quietly closes the door and looks around and listens. No sounds but his wife’s blow dryer in their bedroom. This couldn’t have worked out more perfectly, he thinks. He makes a trip to the kitchen and grabs the large bottle of olive oil hidden beneath a drawer of dish towels. He kept many strategically placed throughout the estate in places his overbearing bitch of a wife would never look. He makes his way down to their fully finished basement because the bathroom down there is ideal and has a lessened chance he will be disturbed. He tells her that he likes the water temp and pressure down there better and she never questions it. He locks the door behind him and undresses. His clothes peel from his oily body and are heavier due to the saturation. It’s no matter as he always has the servants keep this bathroom stocked with towels and a few sets of clothes. He unfolds the bench in the shower and places the pizza perfectly. He then opens the olive oil and chants as he lathers his body with it. “Better Ingredients. Better pizza” he says over and over as his eyes roll back in euphoria. He discards his humanity and gets down on all fours slowly crawling toward the pizza like a primal predator. He closes in on it lunging his face into the pizza and biting into it pulling to the side as the cheese stretches with his movement. The pizza is all one solid disc as he instructed. This one he would devour with an animalistic fury. He even let his fingernails grow out to help him shred it apart in large chunks. The olive oil is thick on him and several pieces of the pizza fall off and slide down him as he succumbs to his most inner base instincts. John is now lost in these moments of power, passion, and hatred. The senses run so deep if one were to look upon him they would see not man, but a ravaging beast. Sadly someone would see him and get more than they bargained for. Time had gotten away from him again, his wife thought. She was ready and cautiously excited for this. They hadn’t had a nice meal together in almost a month. John was lost in his efforts to reclaim his role in the company and had become obsessive. She reached the foot of the stairs. She felt the pit of her stomach drop as she could sense something was wrong. More so than it had been. No this time it was different. She fearfully approached the door and could hear John murmuring to himself and wet noises and splats but no water from the shower running. She sheepishly knocked on the door “John? Are you almost ready? I’m ready whenever you are, dear” she said in an upbeat but broken nervous tone. She got no response and the sounds persisted or perhaps even became louder and more aggressive. She began to worry and pulled an allen wrench from her purse. She had taken note of John’s decline and stashed it away in case something happened and he had locked himself in. She inserted it and twisted it till she heard a click and opened the door. She gasped as she saw her husband covered in a thick layer of something hunched over something in the shower. The shower curtain was on the floor as it had been ripped off its rings. A now empty bottle of olive oil was laying haphazardly on the floor in a pool of some of what had spilled out. Her heart was racing and she took a step forward but kept the door open to her back just in case. “John?” She said now almost weeping. John suddenly stopped mumbling and slowly turned his head back at her. But they weren’t John’s eyes anymore. They were wild and full of madness. John then slowly rose up and his gaze was fixated on her. She ran and shut the door behind her and tried to hold it shut as John frantically pulled at the door but slipped due to the grease that covered him. “BETTER INGREDIENTS. BETTER PIZZA” he bellowed loudly from behind the door. She slid down the door realizing the grease would prevent him from getting out. Suddenly she felt a warmth and stood up and looked down. Oil was flooding out from under the door and as she took a step further to examine it a hand came out of the grease to grab her and she leaped back and almost fell. She headed quickly toward the stairs and looked back only to see the form of John’s head protrude from the center of the large pool of oil. “BETTER INGREDIENTS. BETTER PIZZA” it cried out in a gargled howl. It was time to get out. She didn’t know where but she knew if she didn’t something awful might become of her. Not death either. No a fate worse than death. As she ran outside she saw the side gate was ajar and a figure on a motorcycle was riding toward the estate. She shouted and flagged them down and the bike veered course toward her. The bike slowed as it got close to her and she seized the gap. “I don’t know who you are or why you are here but you may have just saved my life!” she exclaimed half smiling and half in unstopping tears. “Save the niceties for when we get to safety and hop on, NOW” the man said in an urgent tone. She nodded and jumped on the bike behind him and held on for dear life. As they road into late day she asked “Who are you if I may ask?”. There was a pause and finally he spoke “Sam Bridges…I made deliveries to your husband but me and the BB got a bad vibe and I went with my gut. And your name?” She smiled and replied softly “Annette Schnatter….at least I was”. Sam said nothing and continued riding and Annette took one last look back at the estate only to see it slowly sinking. That was the last time she ever saw John in his human form again.