Order and Chaos

Obviously the Pizza castle.

I stalked 'round the pizza castle for a hot shake and a minute, until I turned a corner and found myself nose-to-nose with this bald guy... you know the type: glasses, a mustache, and a cone-shaped hat decorated to look like a pizza slice.

"Hi," he introduced himself instead of apologizing or backing away any. "I'm Herman Cain, owner and proprietor of Godfather's pizza and 2012 GOP party primary candidate." He extended his hand to shake.

I took it. "Grub," I snorted. What else was I gonna say, right?

"Would you like to hear about my flat tax proposal?"

"Well, can I get some access to wardrobe, then?"

I thought fast. "Well then can I get some access to wardrobe, PLEASE?"

"Oh meOW!" teased Eliza. "Take 5, everyone!" She clapped. "The diva needs a wardrobe adjustment."

I retreated backstage, but I had no interest in wardrobe. Instead, I detoured to the catering table and then, out the back door when I hoped nobody was looking. Typical Marx, isn't that? Thrust into a new situation suddenly, runs away.

It cleared things up quite a quite a bit, though, when I exited into a grand hallway with 30-foot ceilings, dotted with potted plants, water coolers, filing cabinets, and artifacts from ancient legends (some taxidermied.) I had been teleported to the home of the gods!

My judgement was at hand. I had to hide, run, anything to save my skin before they figured out just who had bumbled into their inner sanctum... but where to?