My taste buds have been bugging me for a perfect slice of pizza since Monday. Greg, a distant cousin of mine from Niagara, went here in Manhattan last week to look for a new job. He previously worked as a manager of a pizza parlor.
I don’t know why he quit his job. He seemed like he was really enjoying his stint at the food business the last time I asked him how he was. We even talked about setting up a small pizza parlor in Connecticut by 2008.
My mom used to joke that I’m the 5th member of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I really loved pizza when I was still a kid. I always get “the eyebrow” from her whenever she sees me carrying a box of pizza. My dad didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I think he even secretly snatched a few slices back then. I lightheartedly indicted him for “pizza theft,” and he always pleaded his innocence with a laugh.
I’m really craving for a slice. Maybe I’ll invite my dad out on Wednesday for a box or two. Maybe I’ll even blackmail him in paying for the meal. I’ll tell him that the unexplained disappearance of the several slices of pizza back in 1988 could still merit him a criminal record :)
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