The Worst Part About the Dropped Pizza

I made a huge mistake last night. I dropped the freshly baked pizza. As I was cutting the pie into slices, half of it slid like a gallon of water off of a cliff creating such a miraculous fall. I was caught up in the result of the whole thing to truly appreciate the scene of the fall itself. It likely could have made our travel march madness bracket. As I stood their observing the mess that was created, I couldn’t fully process what the worst part about the whole situation was…until now.

The sportsbooks likely would put “Burnt to a crisp hand” as the highest odds to be deemed the worst part about the dropped pizza. As I type this, my right hand is fighting for its life. You see, as I stood in the kitchen looking down at the quarter of the pizza flipped right side up and the other quarter flipped upside down, with what could be mistaken as giant blood splatter behind them on the cabinets, I watched in awe at the amount of steam fleeing from the pizza. The thing just came out of a 400-degree oven, I suppose it only makes sense that it’d be hot as shit. Which brings us to my hand.

My hand hurt like an MFer and it still does. There are red blisters on my thumb, the lil space with an unknown name between the thumb and index finger and on a few knuckles. It hurt to run it under the warm shower this morning. It hurts to just be out in the open. It hurt when I layed on top of it this morning trying to get comforable in bed. But it wasn’t the worst part.

One of the casualties in the whole fiasco was my sweatpants — just dripping in sauce. Normally, that would be considered a good thing with an outfit but in this case it was literal sauce which means they would not be able to be recylced in to today’s around-the-house fit. It was a sad realization. But even this was not considered the worst part about the dropped pizza.

No, the worst part about the dropped pizza was the hunger that would hardly be tamed. The hanger had begun to set in. The exhaustion had already set up camp. A full day of activities that was ending with 5+ hours of cleaning filled with just the most joyful energy. It wasn’t that we wanted the pizza but needed it.

We were going to plop down and watch the season finale of Severance with this pizza. But now, another decision had to be made. What else do we eat? An added layer to the hunger. The worst question of the day that appeared to be solved had returned for vengeance. We ate our quarter pieces that survived the disaster and tuned into Drive to Survive as we fought for our own survival.

I still deal with the physcial pain of my hand but the emotional toll will never be forgotten.