My mother was a divorcée, raising three boys. She always put food on the table, but if you’ve raised (or been) a teenage boy, you know that the concept of “enough food” is theoretical at best. Anything remotely “yummy” that came into the house didn’t last long, and there was no guarantee that it would be replaced any time soon.
The situation was alleviated a bit when I got a job at the Pizza Hut in Sunnyside. They would make up a certain number of personal pan pizzas in advance for the lunch rush every day. Any that hadn’t been ordered by 8 p.m. would either get run through the oven and given to the crew, or just tossed. There were nights I came home from my shift with one personal pan pizza, and nights that I came home with five.
Either way, they got eaten.
Glen Newsome
2025-06-10 10:58:16 +0000 UTCScott Meyer
2025-06-10 09:09:14 +0000 UTCAngzarr
2025-06-10 01:46:53 +0000 UTCLocklear93
2025-06-09 17:13:05 +0000 UTC