Brad's Pizza

Imagine this.... it’s a Thursday. The work week is almost over. It’s 98 degrees out. You’re sweating so badly that the inside of your asshole is sweating. Shit... you haven’t eaten all day. Off in the distance... you see a pizza joint... but they named it “brads pizza” so you’re reluctant... fuck it. You only have 10 minutes to spare before you have to get back to work in the living hell that is Pennsylvania humidity. You order two slices of that good good jawn.... hoping for the best. The total comes to less than 3 dollars. Now you’re really suspicious of their 2001 prices. You take a bite... you gag. You ask yourself “Am I back in high school?” No. You’re not in high school, you’re not in hell... you’re at fucking Brads Pizza. You wonder about all the amazing things you could have done with the $2.96 you wasted on this pig slop... but alas... it’s back to work. You’re angry, you hate yourself, and all you can think about is inducing vomiting like you’ve just swallowed rat poison.... and then it’s over. You take solace in the fact you will never know such internal hatred again.