The Pizza Shop

My two kids were playing pizza shop this afternoon. First O was the customer and walked along with an exaggerated air of nonchalance.
“I’m looking for a pizza shop. I wonder where one is?”
C frantically waved his NAIDOC Week flag that the kids at his preschool were making this week and said ‘Here is a pizza shop, sir!”
O walked up and C said, ‘What sort of pizza would you like SIR??!!”
O asked for Pineapple and Vegetable Pizza, a boy after my own heart. Or tastebuds. Or something.

Then O asked if he could be the pizza shop person, and C had to be the customer.
C wanted a salami pizza. No vegetables. Iggle Piggle wanted a pizza too – or was going to be cooked in a pizza – I couldn’t work out what was happening.

Anyway. C did the whole elaborate nonchalance, but didn’t say anything, so O got impatient and said,
“CUT! You have to say, ‘I am looking for a pizza shop. Is there one around here?”
That scene took many, many takes.
While O alternately frantically waved the Aboriginal Flag (Or the pizza shop flag, depending on what dimension one was inhabiting) and told Cadar what to say.

O gave on up the game eventually, but C was still involved, and when Craig got home from work, C pulled out one of the most perfect specimens of Customer Service – he walked up and said in a perfect surly monotone,
“Go to my pizza shop and buy a pizza. You can sit on a stool and read a newspaper.”
‘No. I don’t have chocolate pizzas.”
So Craig asked for an anchovy pizza. Both C and O asked what were anchovies, and when Craig told them, C looked surprised and said, ‘But you wouldn’t like THAT would you?”
Yes, yes he would.

I hope that Iggle Piggle didn’t get cooked.

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