“I’m done”. That’s what I say to myself. Every day for the past 13 years. I live a thank less life. I carefully pull the strings of the world so that I can keep things in order. Fuck Batman, I’m the real silent protector. I watch over every thing. I don’t sleep. I don’t eat. Well, I was meant to be eaten. But not all dreams come true. Sometimes you think life will take you in a certain direction but then, somehow, some dark forces come into play and ruin every thing. Every dream is then automatically shattered.

My story is similar. All my dreams were broken just when I was about to conquer them. This is my story. And I’m sure you’ve never heard it. I’ve had some real violent memories. Retelling this story is one of them, it brings back too many painful moments to me. But, I mean, A slice of Pizza’s gotta make a living. And telling my story is a good way for me to earn that dough. Ah, dough. That’s where it all began. I don’t remember much from when I was just a piece of dough. All I know is that the elders took care of me. They carved out the finest looking Pizza of all time. Then they carved us up into brothers and sisters. Oh, it was a glorious time.

I had toppings put on me. Some nice sauce, too. I looked just pretty enough to be eaten. I was going to take the final pilgrimage into the mouth of the Human. It is our final test. If I would’ve completed that, I would’ve received untold riches. All Pizza slices work towards that. To achieve this final goal. But that fateful night, as I bid adieu to my siblings who were handpicked one by one for the task, I was left out. I wondered why. I was the only one of my kin left. I was given a prison sentence in a refrigerator. Think of the most hardcore, most disgusting prison you can imagine. Now multiply that by 1000. That’s the refrigerator. But more on that latter. A slice can only look back at so much sadness in one day. 

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