The other night I was walking home after the bar closed too drunk to decide where I was goin' to stop for food. Indecisive as a mother fucker I reached home keeling over in stomach pain I was so damn hungry. I walked up my stairs fearing that my fridge would be empty and I'd have to try and sleep without sustenance. I enter the kitchen, I open the fridge, lo and behold the only fuckin' thing in there is mayonnaise and bread. Being Garbage Gut I'm not above eating a mayo-sando before bed, but I was compelled by an unknown force to open my microwave. There inside the microwave is two slices of pizza, just waiting for me. I couldn't for the life of me figure out where they had come from, but who cares where they come from fuckin' pizza time, eh? The only theory I'm working with is that, similar to Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure, at some point in the future I will go back in time to leave that pizza in the microwave for myself in the past. I'll tell you this though, pizza from the future, it's only alright. I'd recommend stickin' a slice between some bread and mayonnaise.
