I absolutely love that one particular kind of pepperoni pizza that you get at the mini golf course.
You know the one: it’s cardboardy, the pepperonis are usually burnt a
little bit, and the cheese burns the everlovingfuck out of your mouth
when you bite into it, just before it slides off in one whole piece and
sticks to your chin or falls onto your Journey concert shirt.
If I could eat that pizza while I listened to Hall & Oates and
played Space Invaders, I could be in fourth grade for the rest of my