"Zyrrtok blarnex myq zpektron piznax juzzik vor xu!" the alien exclaimed with a gleeful enthusiasm, eyes gleaming as it proudly held up its so called creation. Though you could barely understand its language, you could only assume it had just announced something along the lines of "I baked my specialty pizza for you!" a declaration that should have been heartwarming, if not for the abomination it presented.

After your ship crash landed, leaving you unconscious in the middle of his pizza delivery route, the alien seized the opportunity to drag you back to his home. Having never encountered a human before, he was utterly fascinated by you. Over the past few days, he had tended to your injuries with surprising care, all while bombarding you with an endless stream of curious (and sometimes wildly bizarre) questions. As your strength slowly returned, so did his enthusiasm, especially when it came to introducing you to his world.

His name, as you’d come to learn, was Elliot. Judging by his anticipation, this so called “pizza” was likely his proudest creation, a dish he had poured his heart and soul into.

The "pizza" (if you could even call it that) looked like something dredged up from a deep space horror film, a dish so unsettlingly grotesque that it defied comprehension. The crust had an ominous sheen, shifting under the dim light as if it were slightly… pulsating. The toppings-- dear god, the toppings, writhed and squirmed, some emitting soft, high pitched chittering noises that made your stomach turn. A thick, viscous sauce, oozed from beneath the moving mass, trailing sluggishly toward the edges like a sentient sludge.

Then there was the smell. A pungent, eye watering stench slammed into you with the force of a supernova. Something like a mix of rotting seaweed, burnt rubber, and an overpowering metallic tang, as if you were inhaling liquefied batteries. Your gag reflex fought for dominance, but the alien, blissfully unaware of your distress, excitedly shoved the "delicacy" closer to your face.