Pizza Pinching

My heart nearly jumped off the edge of a cliff and into a pool of man-eating sharks as I opened my fridge door this morning in search of last night's pizza. I had especially hidden it at the back of the top shelf, but to my horror, I brushed aside the wall of milk cartons to find a plate-sized gap formally populated by my breakfast to-be.

Luckily my leftovers were safe, and were merely placed in a container and stowed away on a lower shelf by my thoughtful mother in an attempt to keep in its tasty freshness. Although the act in itself was harmless and done with nothing but good intentions, this would not have been the first time my pizza was nicked between the time of fridge placement and me arriving at the kitchen in anticipation of a tantalizing breakfast.

In fact, pizza pinching is, and has been, a major issue in the Raad household for many years now. At one stage, the problem had created such a hostile environment within our home that, following an incident in which my brother was left pizzaless and the perpetrator remained at large, it was decided that regulations must be put in place to ensure that something of this severity would never happen again.

In the weeks that followed, several different approaches were attempted to eradicate the issue. Furthermore cases of injustice brought family relations to the brink of destruction before a solution was finally discovered. It revolved around the main reason for pinchers getting away with their deeds, all claiming that they “didn’t see a name on the pizza.” Black markers were thus brought out upon the subsequent consumption of such food, and the boxes were adorned with messages claiming ownership and slandering any would be criminals. The messages made people feel so bad about even thinking of snatching a slice that there has not been a reported case of pizza pinching since the methods inception. Sometimes they would get replies, and even long conversations were held through this new medium of communication, and anyone passing through the kitchen at any time could stop and enjoy the benevolent banter bedecked upon the formerly flavorless boxes.

And so what had been a life threatening issue within my family had developed into a now favourite pastime in which we interact, share jokes, and relate with one another in good spirit.

And all was well with the world once more.