papa louie™️, a poem

pizza, what is it?
dough, sauce, cheese,
toppings,
chopping
veggies and meats
that Papa did until his day was complete.
“Roy, help!” Papa exclaimed.
“The pies are alive!”
and thus birthed this game.
Roy threw his only weapon,
a box in his hand,
which turned into a portal
that led to a land.

it was beige, bleak.
all Papa had, were his handle and bombs
five hearts to spare, he just wanted his mom.
run he ran, pan he threw,

the onions, the monsters
scared was he.
coins were amok, collecting as he did see
did he know what they did?
no. there’s no guarantee

until he reached the end
and found Big Pauly,
unlocked his cage, so he was no longer melancholy.

ah, this is what he shall do
for the next twelve levels,
to rescue his customers
from the pizza devils.

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