Rejected by McSweeney's 1/13/10

John Schnatter, Founder of Papa John’s Pizza, Debriefs Navy S.E.A.L. Team Six After a Failed Delivery Attempt to the Federally Administered Tribal Areas of Northwest Pakistan

First of all, gentlemen, great effort out there tonight. I really cannot state that enough. Team leader [redacted]? Six distinct cheeses were deployed in record time. Damn, man. That’s exemplary.

Usually takes my guys a good six days on the ol’ Papa John’s HQ training course before they can even begin to decipher the subtle differences between a Tuscan Six Cheese’s various blends. But not your boys! They learned it all in a few minutes and I’m damn near sure the fresh dough they teased into a delicate thin crust with callused, war-weary fingers was more perfectly formed than any circle ever drawn by Giotto di Bondone himself.

I guess now I know why they call you guys the best of the best, huh? Well you are, and I am immensely proud. You fellas should feel proud too, because even though we were ultimately unsuccessful in delivering our piping hot cyanide-laced pies to their final destination in the treacherous Pakistan tribal mountain region, I am utterly content knowing that our secondary mission was completed without issue. Boys, please, stand tall: We had those boxes waiting out front of that bastard Osama bin Laden’s secret mountain cave in 30 minutes or less and for that fact alone we should each feel some semblance of victory in this somber hour.

Of the Domino’s Pizza Incident that ultimately derailed our mission I will say very little beyond what’s already included in my report to the Pentagon. I mean, we were all there, right? We all saw how murky those valleys were at dusk. It was incredibly hard to see!

Beyond all that we were in a war zone. Collateral damage just happens in a war zone, even at the hands of savvy, eagle-eyed businessmen like Papa John here. Nevertheless, I understand the young man’s death was still undeniably tragic.

If I may be frank, however, who the hell does Domino’s think they are sending Tom the delivery guy into Pakistan on the night Papa John’s S.E.A.L. team kill squad is descending on the exact same spot to dispense its unique brand of delicious counter terrorism ‘za and deadly justice?

I guess the real issue here is that Tom was an idiot. He was an idiot the day he donned the Domino’s Pizza uniform and he was an idiot for taking that dangerous Pakistan tribal region delivery assignment. To be honest with you, I really have no idea how or why Domino’s is ahead of Papa John’s in the sales race with employees like Tom. That blue polo shirt might has well have been a traditional Taliban Perahan Tunban for all we knew—which is exactly what it looked like—and that is why I accidentally popped off 12 or so errant bullets into poor Tom’s misguided brain.

So let’s not dwell on Tom, OK? Instead—I’m sorry, sergeant? What was that? You heard me scream “Better ingredients, better pizza, better fatal headshots to the competition—Papa John’s!” as I casually squeezed off a few dozen rounds from my Mk16 SCAR Light carbine? Hmm. Maybe I did, but in my defense you don’t get to the point where you’re tapped by the President of the United States to deliver pizzas in treacherous war zones without offing a few members of the competition along the way, do you?

Huh? Say again, soldier? How did a civilian acquire such a weapon, you ask? How about this: Why so many questions, grunt? I’m Papa John Schnatter, master of the brick oven and slayer of terrorist scum the world over. Recognize my killing acumen and realize that I started a massive international pizza empire with just $2,800 from a sold 1971 Chevy Camaro Z28 and haven’t looked back since. There isn’t an enemy or topping I can’t conquer and make my culinary bitch!

I guess what I’m saying is a guy like that probably wouldn’t have any trouble whatsoever procuring a silly little rifle, nor would such a fellow hesitate to make some super secret Special Forces squad that doesn’t technically exist vanish of the face of the planet and reappear in next month’s specialty SEAL meat pizza offering.

But enough tough talk. This debriefing has run its course. The hour grows late, and I have no fewer than a dozen Halal pies to personally deliver to his eminence in Tehran by lunchtime. He’ll be dead by nightfall. I'll sleep like a baby.