10/07/2026
It's Wednesday. You know what that means. So do I. Nobody lets me act on it.
Pizza Night at Ryan's Creek House:
20% off all pizzas
Blue Moon on draft: $3.50 for a 22oz, $9 pitchers
And if you'd rather your pizza come folded, rolled, and sealed shut like a secret, the stromboli is calling. Same dough, same sauce, everything tucked inside where it belongs. Nothing falls off, which is bad news for me personally.
Chef B has the night off. His crew has the kitchen. Fine. I know them.
Still no answers on Sunday's mystery. Who was that Karson kid. He's gone now. Mentioned his driver's license and drove off into the sunset, apparently. And tonight there's a new one. Answers to "Devon." Racing around the kitchen like he's in a go-kart. Took the corner by the fryer on two wheels. Nobody introduced us. As former Head of Recruiting, I was not consulted. Who was that Karson kid. Who is this Devon kid. Who. Who.
I am beginning to sound like an owl. I blame both of them.
I've had the pizza. Once. Kari's fault. I've never had the stromboli. I'm told that's "on purpose."
Come in tonight. Order one for the table and one for the pug. Kidding. Mostly.
— Lily
Chief Mascot & Emotional Support Pug, Ryan's Creek House
(Crust Inspector, compensated in dropped toppings)
(Kitchen crew here. Strombolis are rolling out hot. Devon says hi. Lily says she's watching him.)