Once upon a time, there was a lovely little pizza who was piping hot to the touch. It sat on a table in front of a TV, smelled of the Mediterranean and teased others to eat. I know because I put it there and turned around for only a minute.
Suddenly I turned towards the table and saw the pizza was gone. I immediately suspected the Jack-O’-Lantern sporting a mischievous smile. Yes, I had convinced myself it was that rotund, orange backstabber. I could feel it laughing at me the entire time I searched the room over for a more plausible culprit, but there was none. Its big, stupid, googly eyes stared me down. Soft footsteps masking my hard-hearted intent, I inched closer to the traitor, intending to wreak my revenge.
I turned around so fast that I nearly sprained my neck. There it was: a video game case slammed shut, but a piece of pepperoni stuck to the edge. The case’s tongue-like manual had retreated fast, but I swear there had been cheese on it.
I ran over to the case so quickly that the room shook until a priceless porcelain plate shattered on the floor. I did not pay attention; I opened the case to discover nothing was there. I ripped open another case, cracked open a second and tore open yet another until there was a veritable tower of plastic. There was nothing! I almost collapsed because I was so exhausted from the ordeal.
As I walked upstairs for bedtime, I heard it again:
And then I fell asleep.