- Diet Type: Carnivorous
- Popular with: Murderers
- Illegal In Canada Since: 1867
- Our Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
- Average Rating: What the fuck is wrong with you?
Warning: Do not try this at home without adult supervision
I was hungry. It had been a long day and I had forgotten to eat lunch. I pondered my options: a moldy apple, ordering pizza, grocery shopping, or starvation. I ate the apple and immediately vomited. What is it about mold that makes me so sick? The French seem fine with their fromage de roqueforte; if only I could have had a pomme de roqueforte. I could have used the sustenance and additional revenue from a revolutionary new fruit that I could sell for 4 times the price of normal fruit and make just by being lazy.
So I faced three remaining options. I considered grocery shopping. My mother had told me to be a “responsible adult”. I think that implied that I should go grocery shopping and cook my own food when I’m hungry. This seemed like a lot of effort, mostly because I can’t decide between chicken and turkey, or between lettuce and cabbage. Pro-tip: don’t put cabbage on your sandwich. Eventually, I managed to convince myself that being a “responsible adult” probably just meant flushing after I use the toilet and turning the light off before bed – two things I can handle. I gave myself a pat on the back and decided not to go grocery shopping.
So now I faced the most common dilemma of any university students’ experience: pizza or starvation. The thought of phoning a pizza company made me feel scared and vulnerable. What if in a moment of panic, I forgot what kind of pizza I wanted and accidentally ordered something with olives on it? The thought was too much to bear, so I settled on starvation. Then I remembered someone had told me once that I could now order pizza online, with no human interaction. This sounded perfect! I went online and ordered a pizza. No olives. Perfect. I didn’t have to starve tonight. This was the epitome of laziness, but as long as I turned off my bedroom light before going to bed, I felt as a “responsible adult” and had no regrets.
This online pizza ordering system was amazing. It told me exactly exactly what was happening to the pizza. It even had a tracker showing exactly how many pepperoni slices had been placed on the pizza. Only 18? Bullshit! I wanted at least 20 pepperoni slices. I soon forgot as I watched actual video footage of my pizza baking in their oven. Then something peculiar happened. As I was watching the cheese slowly melting, my pizza’s status changed to “Out for delivery”. But it was still in the oven! How the fuck was it being delivered while still being baked. Was there an oven in the back of the delivery car? I was pondering this ever-important question about the fundamental nature of the universe when… “DING DONG” My doorbell rang. I put on some clothing and went to the door.
A pizza delivery man stood in front of me both hands at his side. I opened my mouth to say “Where’s the pizza?” when he said “Oh fuck…” his voice filled with dread. All of a sudden it made sense. He had forgotten the pizza. It was still baking in the oven, its cheese bubbling delectably, as was shown on my computer monitor. We both just stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Today was full of difficult questions. Was I to give him a tip anyways? Was he to just leave and pretend nothing happened? Were we to come up with a strategy together? I opened my mouth, but then shut it again, unsure of what to do. Just then, my stomach rumbled. And with the rumbling, a monster awoke inside of me.
I became a savage beast and turned on the man, ripping his XXXXXX from his XXXXXX. Then I XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX while the man screamed. I could not stop myself. I continued to XXXXXXXXXX and soon XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX. The dead had been done. At this point, there was no turning back. I brought his XXXXXXXXXXX to the kitchen and began to make XXXXXXXX with his XXXXX. Once my meal was finished, I poured myself a glass of wine, lit a candle, and took my first bite of XXXXXXXXXXXXX. It was burnt. Fifteen minutes later, I had prepared another XXXXXXXXX, this one more rare and quite palatable. The pizza man had brought me an excellent meal and I didn’t even need to give him a tip.
Just then, the doorbell rang again. I was still covered in blood, so I quickly washed off, hid the body, and answered the door. It was another pizza delivery man. He had remembered the pizza. I just stood there shocked and stared at the man, unsure of what to do. My entire body trembling, I managed to squeak out “I didn’t order any pizza” and then I slammed the door. I doubt the man believed me, but I saw his car drive away. Stuffed from my earlier meal, I decided to take a nap and clean up the mess I had made in the morning. I awoke in a small cinderblock room with a small metal door and no windows. I was alone in an unfamiliar place, but at least I didn’t have to clean up the mess.