(repost from an oak bog. I encourage you all to try this, (mostly because I am a malevolent entity)

The madman’s domain of Cici’s Pizza is an unholy place. Held behind the confines of their dark, dank kitchens and their rust-flaky shelves of pantry storage is a throne room bedecked with fetishes and skulls which houses the portrait of Mr. Cici. I could not capture an image of Mr. Cici (the photos just kept turning out blank), so just imagine it looks something like this:

Cici, Scourge of Gastrointestria


Anyway, this portrait serves as a nexus between our world and the Goblin Homeworld: a feculent, polluted wasteland where laborers dredge the slime rivers for Cici’s various pizza and pasta sauces. Under all-seeing eye of the titular slavemaster, hundreds of goblins and lesser implings are hard at work deep beneath each Cici’s restaurant, turning the gears and shafts that work the machinery and digging the ore that serves as breading. They also work the unsafe blast furnaces that have caused many a workplace death. (Of course, if a goblin is to die on the job, it is the goblin way to never let a single ingredient go to waste!)

The goblins working the mines are allowed only a few breaks a day for their functions: they do have one perk though, and that is that they are given their favorite food—the Ma’ ‘akraoónĩ Ptsá—for free on their breaks. It is this one Goblin’s Delight that gets them through the day (though it has caused much unrest among the laborers that it is sold to the human patrons of Cici’s, and slandered with the philistine translation of “Macaroni and Cheese pizza”).

I have just returned from my pilgrimage to Goblin country. This pilgrimage happens once a year, for it is the Divine Fool’s version of a pilgrimage to Coney Island on the fourth of July for the Nathans Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest. The point of the pilgrimage: to indulge in the way of the Goblin, and become as ill as possible.

This is achieved through a few means: first of all, it is necessary to eat at least one piece of Goblin’s Delight (the macaroni and cheese pizza) at every visit. Since you are visiting a goblin’s principality, you need a visa to visit. Goblin’s Delight serves as the stamp on one’s passport.

Secondly, one must glut one’s self on as much pizza as possible. At least ten slices is needed to be seen as deserving of at least the slightest morsel of respect. Any less, and you will be seen as nothing more than a dirty rat tourist bastard, and you will be spit upon if not mugged by the nighttime janitor (usually a half-breed human-goblin mutt living in this world unable to exist in society at large).

Third, in order to move up in the ranks of goblin citizenship from a simple passer-thru to a naturalized citizen to honored dignitary, one must attempt to tackle some of the Goblins’ most cherished and terrible recipes. These recipes are anything that seems like a bad idea and one knows the second they think up the idea that they will taste just awful. Why, just tonight, I made up the dish known as Goblin Hot-Pot. To make Goblin Hot-Pot, simply take a small bowl of chicken soup, a small portion of salad and a slice of apple-crumble desert pizza, tear up the pizza, and throw the salad and pizza into the soup. One must then eat the pizza bits and salad out of the soup with a fork, and then drink the remains of the soup. Things like this will impress the goblins of Cici’s, and for doing the way of the goblin, you will certainly be seen as “an ill bro.”

Then, there is the Goblin Gauntlet. To complete this is to gain the exaltation of the goblin masses forever, and maybe even the slightest bit repute from the glorious and terrifying Mr. Cici himself. It assures you a name among the masses.

I invented and tackled down this monstrosity on my first visit to Cici’s, this hulking leviathan of gastronomic hatred, the Goblin Gauntlet. The Goblin Gauntlet—well, I may go on and on to say as many things about how dreaded and feared this task of abominable ingestion is until the end of time… but you truly cannot comprehend how awful it is until you have attempted to overcome The Gauntlet yourself:

The Goblin Gauntlet—an End-Times Enchiridion
I. Assembly.
a. Start by getting 3 pieces of Goblin’s Delight (three pieces of Macaroni and Cheese Pizza).
b. Put down pizza slice one on plate, face up.
c. Cover pizza slice one with a layer of their alfredo sauce (Do not fear lumps in alfredo sauce, this is natural for the climes of Cici’s).
d. Put pizza slice two atop slice one, face-up.
e. Cover that with a layer of Cici’s marinara sauce.
f. Put pizza slice three atop slices one and two, face-up.
g. Cover that with a layer of ranch dressing.
h. Top with a heaping pile of bacon bits and croutons.

II. Rules.
1. The Goblin Gauntlet must be completed in one sitting. This means-
a) no getting up to go to the bathroom for any reason.
b) no getting up to get a drink. Chances are you’ll want to make sure you have a full glass when you start.
c) no vomiting.
2. Any noodles or croutons that fall off must be eaten in order to finish the Goblin Gauntlet. Your plate and tray must be clean of any bits of crouton or noodles. Crumbs are NOT necessary to be cleaned off the plate (but crushing croutons into crumbs on purpose is grounds for Goblin Gauntlet failure.) Also, the bacon bits and the sauce do NOT have to be all cleaned up off the plate.
3. No purging afterward. Some may do this to avoid the torturous after-effects.

III. Procedure.

To fit the entire monstrosity in your mouth, you will have to squeeze all of the sheets of pizza together; some of the sauce will drip off in doing this. Also, noodles and croutons will very likely fall off in the consumption/self-destruction of the Goblin Gauntlet.




The first bite of it will be one of the worst. You will not be ready for the spectrum of funk that will hit your mouth, which can be gauged as ranging from the imagined flavors of bat blood (rotted marinara) to goblin’s wayward seed (the ranch). If you have a poor gag reflex, you will definitely vomit here. (I, the author of this Enchiridion, almost did. Surprised at the horror of the taste, and I coughed through my closed lips, causing it to flume out in high-pressured spray all around my face. A bacon bit also landed in my eatmate’s drink.)

The tip and the crust area of the pizza are should not be as putrid as the middle, due to less prevalence of the sauce in those areas as opposed to the middle. That is the real kicker in The Goblin Gauntlet—the sauces. The ranch is the most egregious. Even worse, as you plow through it all, the friction of pizza slices moving against each other is likely to blend all of the sauces together. This doesn’t help; it only makes it so the whole pizza is covered in a horrible bastard-child sauce. I’d call this new mixed sauce “visceral bloody goblin come.”

Remember above all that the Goblin Gauntlet is an endurance test. You will need perseverance for about a half hour to get through it all, in addition to a good sense of humor. And make sure to ration your drink carefully- you will want to drink it all at once to wash down the first few bites. Remember, it only gets worse if you start at the tip. Try to get a cola that will mask the flavor, or a Mello Yellow. Water won’t do.

Typically eaten last are the fallen-off noodles and croutons. They will be cold and the croutons will be soft sponges that have been supersaturated by the cold sauce. Fight through the last bite.

You will likely gain a new-found sense of misanthropy during, and more intensely, after the completion of the Gauntlet. Expect a stomachache for the next 12 hours or so, and expect colon problems for the next 24. The feeling inside you will take the shape of something like a weapons-grade chemical development lab storage vat, or you may feel as if the section of your body between the top of your stomach and the bottom of your rectum has been replaced entirely with cancer and nothing but cancer. This is called having “goblin growing pains-” the physical and psychological pain that naturally occurs when one begins to metamorphasize into a goblin after enough terrible food is ingested. Some other side effects may include trouble breathing, dizziness and weakness of muscles.

A stomach pump may be necessary. This is cheating and constitutes a failure to finish the gauntlet.

The path down is long, self-mutilating and filled with perils. But if you finish, you will be among the proud few brave who can claim to have survived the Goblin Gauntlet.
End of Enchiridion.

Though I did not partake in the Gauntlet tonight, I did complete twelve pieces of low-grade pizza from the depths of Mr. Cici’s hell, Goblin Hot-Pot, and three buttered-up cinnamon rolls. I have done by the Goblins’ way. I have gotten mad-ill.
I mean that last part. I actually feel a large amount of blood pressure behind my eyes, as if they are bulging and I may begin to bleed from them at any time. My abdominals also are in an ache that feels somewhat like as if my stomach were about to burst with the alien from Alien. My soul feels a hundred years older; and everything I see is starting to take the shade of a sickly gray-green…

I ask myself, for what did I put myself through all this? These pains, these psychological scars, to later turn into callouses… All of this was for what?

Just $4.99. At that price, how can you not go out and be multicultural? So I ask you now to partake in the Goblin Way. Get your Goblin visa stamped. Be the illest.