Pineapple pizza is rad. Rad in the slang sense of it: extraordinary. Rad, too, because it’s radical. Too new, too different. It can scare you but also draw you in like holding Joyce’s Ulysses in your hands; the weight, the thickness intimidating but the cultural capital inviting, the words on the page looking like insects running too fast, losing their full stops and exclamation marks in panic. Those insects too fear the new; the new sentence brimming with such passion; it overpowers the previous and cuts it short. Pineapple threatens the sanctity of the cheese; the holy kingdom only familiar with one of pineapple’s kind. But the tomato is gone, now beaten and imprisoned in the dungeons beneath the layers of cheese; there’s a new fruit in town. It mounts the holy throne, wearing its golden crown looking down on the lumps of meat and vegetables sitting dully beneath it. The new king stands up to the tyrants and before long, he replaces them. The pineapple is ambitious. It wants the onions gone, the capsicums perished. There’s no space for them in the refurnished castle; pepperoni carpets have it covered. Now the pineapple dominates the classic Hawaiian pizza but it’s causing a riot. I think it’s because the pineapple is moist. That’s a word which raises more eyebrows than pineapple pizza. A study in Ohio found that 18% people hate the sound of the word moist because it reminds them of bodily fluids. I suppose when bitten into, the pineapple may make a squishy sound like that of breathing in with a nose congested with phlegm. Pineapple is wet but the rest of the pizza is not. It seems like an imperfect match, like the couple whose wedding I attended 2 years ago. Glimmering in gold, they sparkled on the stage as the cameras flashed. She’s a decade older than him, I thought. It was a flawless wedding but will it be a perfect marriage? I later found out it was a love marriage; he fought with his family until they accepted their age difference. Pineapple fought too, dueling rival lovers like tomatoes and stubborn old parents like onions and pineapples fight still, sometimes overcooked and soggy due to battle, still trying to win us over. I find their perseverance sweet.