Pizza Pizza

Our family would enjoy pizza as a treat once in a while as I was growing up. It was one of my favorite things to eat. Although, I tended to eat all the toppings first, and never got to the crust. My mom always yelled at me for wasting the crust.

The crust was just like bread! Yuck. The toppings were nice, varied, and soft enough to be crunched. The bread was hard and would cause my teeth or mouth to hurt. Ouch! Remember, back in the day, they didn’t have any of those nice dips!

My family never asked me what toppings I liked. It was a shame I couldn’t be included in what the toppings were. Why didn’t I have a say?

Eventually came that faithful day where I would have some pocket money and nobody was home. Now I could order a pizza for myself, and choose every single topping! Yippee!

With a tremendous amount of consideration, I cycled through all of my favorite toppings, and the ingredients in pizza. I came to realize suddenly that my favorite part of the pizza was the tomato sauce! Yum!

I called up Pizza Pizza and requested my first “small” pizza. I didn’t know how small “small” was. But I reckoned that their smallest pizza would be suitable for one person to eat.

I didn’t understand the difference between an “extra” topping and a “double” topping. My family would order “double” cheese.

I didn’t like cheese that much, so I thought, why have any cheese at all? My favorite topping was tomato sauce, so I figured I’d get “double tomato sauce”. Scrumptious!

That’s right. I ordered a small pizza, with no cheese, and double tomato sauce. I also got ground beef, because I liked ground beef. My family didn’t get ground beef ever, because they couldn’t have any non-halal meets as Muslims!

Family was going to be home soon, but the pizza guaranteed that it would only take 30 minutes for delivery. I waited and waited like I was a dad in a delivery room waiting for my first baby! At 21 minutes and 30 seconds, there was still no pizza!! OMG!

The pizza finally came and I paid for it with excitement. Wow! Technically I could have gotten the pizza for free, because it was 30 seconds over the guarantee. I figured that was too much work, and would delay my eating time, possibly causing my family to catch me in the act!

It was time to dig in!

As I started eating the pizza, I realized I didn’t like the pizza that much. It was just dripping with tomato sauce, and because there was no cheese, it wasn’t gooey. It did not have the characteristics of the type of pizza I loved. Nasty!

I ate as much as I could, but I obviously couldn’t finish a whole pizza; especially one that didn’t taste very good. People were going to be home soon, so I had to figure out what to do with the remaining pizza.

If somebody saw it, they would have so many concerns:

Why didn’t I get any cheese?

Why did I get so much tomato sauce?

Why did I get beef that was not halal?

How bad of a Muslim was I?

Why order so much pizza?

Was there not enough food at home?

Where did the money come from?

And why did I spend money on a bad pizza?

I felt so horrible, bad, and sad. I don’t remember if I cried or not.

I also don’t remember what I did with that pizza. The trauma must have caused me to block out memories. Maybe I forced myself to eat the rest. Gross!