Hot lava and molten cheese

here’s a little something. Just sort of playing around. Like picking a guitar without really playing a song.

Below the sulfur clouds, the boiling lava, and four thousand feet of solid rock, Nigel Townsend bit into a slice of pizza. The molten cheese burned the roof of his mouth.
“Argh! That’s what you Yanks call food? Bloody mess injured me!”
“You’re supposed to blow on it first,” Blake Bertrand chuckled. “I just nuked it.”
“Forget that. How’s the weather today?” Nigel was just waking up and starting his shift.
“Weather topside is same as always. Hot. HQ message came over the wire last night. The Russians were tipped off and suspect something is going on down here. Our orders are to wrap up our research and get Ted our of here before the end of next week.”
“Bloody hell, Bertrand! Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You need your beauty sleep. Like really bad. And a dentist.” Blake dodged the pizza tossed at him by the Brit. “Besides, I pulled it off the wire just before you woke up.”
“Alright. Enough of that, Did HQ tell us how in hell we’re supposed to collect all our samples and get them and a grumpy alien bear up in less than a week?”
“They sent a map of the tunnels.”
“Hopefully it leads us to an elevator.”
“Or a decent pizza joint.”

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