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.

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.