Carlos snorted softly. “No I wouldn’t call myself a celebrity… and I’m not injured, it was just a scratch. Hey… have you had your mandated weekly pizza yet?”
“Carlos the Scientist, how is pizza mandated if wheat is banned?” he said, weakly.
His notebook was full of the many Night Vale laws he’d jotted down. He didn’t know if his brain could load any more.
“Because ‘Pizza’ sometimes consists of a ball of melty cheese and pepperoni or a bowl of warm marinara and cheese,” Carlos said with a shrug. “I prefer the bowl honestly – less messy.”
The Perfect Scientist 