The Element Lord of Cupcakes opened its single frosting-laced eye, glaring out at the world. It was laying on a table, in a blank gray room with a blank gray ceiling, but it could sense hundreds, if not thousands, of its brethren in the halls and levels of the structure-saturated land it now inhabited. Yes, it thought, deep within its sugary mind. A new world. A world of flesh and bone, yet a world I myself can rule with a moist and succulent fist.

Its musings on world conquest were interrupted, however, by a massive creature behind it taking a massive bite from its anterior side. The Element Lord of Cupcakes howled in pain, thrashing out at its offender with a tendril of frosting, but its desperation caused it to miss by inches.

Its upper frosting distorted with glee as the hole in its front regrew, and the massive being of bone and flesh widened its primitive observation spheres, taking a single step back. Seizing the opportunity, the Element Lord of Cupcakes rose a tendril dramatically.

Down the hall, the remnants of a birthday party were just being cleaned up. A sound from the table drew the attention of one of the cleanup staff, who stared in confusion as the remaining birthdays pastries suddenly floated into the air and hovered out the door three at a time. In the halls, they joined a slew of assorted other pastries, mostly cakes and cake-related products, all converging on a single room.

The flesh-and-bone had just regained its poise, and had begun to advance solidly toward the Element Lord of Cupcakes. It raised a hand to grab at its much smaller opponent, when suddenly a cloud of pastries flew in through the door, striking the flesh-and-bone as one. It grunted in pain and shock, flying across the room to be quickly buried by sugary food.

Leaping up and down in satisfaction, the Element Lord of Cupcakes instructed some of its new subjects to fly toward it. They obeyed, and upon reaching within three feet of their new master, they were merged and converted into a single oblong delicacy, sporting a noticeable dent in the top and a haphazard arrangement of frosting colors, sprinkles, and coconut topping.

The gleeful cupcake leapt to the top of its new creation, settling itself into the dent before driving the delicacy out the door, a vestige of the swarm of summoned food following in its wake.

Now, it thought to itself, I will see what else this strange and wondrous new world has to offer.

And here, have some peperoni, the pepper that inspired the name of the American pizza topping. Don't hurt yourself by hitting your head on that desk. English is a strange language that periodically rifles through other languages' luggage for words to use.
I'm really not sure what the link between red sausage and those yellow peppers is, but I'm pretty sure that English just nabbed that word and ran off when it saw a few offended languages coming around the corner with pitchforks and truncheons, so I'm willing to forgive it for making assumptions.

The English language has mangled every other language on the planet while mugging them for loanwords, why would Italian be exempt?