Alright. So here I am, watching reruns of shows that I wasn’t even alive when they were actually being shown. My non-alcoholic beer is beside me in style, mostly because I forgot to get my fake I.D. from my friend Moe.
On the screen comes a commercial for Pizza. Since I don’t like to think about a decision for longer than 5 seconds, I was on the phone before the commercial could tell me how crispy the crust was.
“Hey, is this that pizza place?”
“No, this is your Uncle Bill. Can I take your order?”
“Bill, your pizzas suck! I’m hanging up.”
I ran back to the TV to see if I’d gotten the right number. I was too late now, unless I wanted whiter teeth.
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Hmm… I could use that.
But living in denial is easier, so I tried to find the pizza peoples website.
But of course I got sidetracked and ended up watching a cartoon involving fluffy bunnies for the next hour.
I was mad by now… just plain mad. I was mad as the Hatter and I knew it.
I dressed up in my chicken suit and decided to rob the place. Luckily it was next door.
Wait… it was next door and I was still going to tip the glorified cab driver five bucks?
I was going to show this man who’s boss!
I walked over there with several thick phone books to make me look taller, a black trench coat to make me look… something… not sure what, but black trench coats rule.
I stood on my phone books and stared at the guy, who was flipping pizzas. He turned around.
He was Uncle Bill, all right.