If you’re friends with me on Facebook, then you know about the great misfortune I experienced last week. On Tuesday, March 8, 2016 at approximately 7:17 AM in South Minneapolis, I entered the parking lot to attend my business group’s weekly meeting. I was pulling into a parking stall with what I thought had a piece of paper in it. It wasn’t until I got out of my car that I realized I’d made a terrible error in judgement.
I’d accidentally parked on a slice of pizza. I’m calling it The Great Pizza Murder of 2016 because I feel like this felled pepperoni pizza slice deserves to be remembered.
Don’t worry readers, if you’re laughing at this scenario, it doesn’t make you a completely terrible, inhumane person. It only makes you a semi-terrible person. Good for you, champs.
As I stood there, shocked by the horror before my eyes, a few of my business group friends came over to my car.
“What are you doing?” They asked. Note, none of them were really surprised to see me doing something weird. They’ve kind of come to expect it.
I pointed to my front, driver’s side tire. “I parked on a piece of pizza.”
If I’m forced to admit it, yes, it’s funny. I’m not sure how I continue to end up in situations like this. No one else has parked on a slice of pizza before, because I am the only one sitting in the support group room. (Probably for the best… think of all the judgement I’d receive.)
As I walked into the meeting (after snapping a few photos as evidence for the pizza police), it dawned on me just how SERIOUS this situation was. If you remember reading about the 24 Great Loves of my Life, then you know pizza is in my top 5 favorite things. So the fact that someone just carelessly tossed this slice of pizza into a damp and dirty Minneapolis parking lot really weighed on my conscience.
Maybe the pizza killer was too full. Maybe they’d lost a bet and were dared to throw this sacred food on the ground. Maybe they’d gotten Domino’s pizza, but had really wanted Papa John’s. It’s hard for me to try and picture all of these scenarios, because nothing justifies the crime they committed. NOTHING!
Point is, what they did was sinful, and I’m even more frustrated that they made me an accomplice. While the time of death is unknown, that slice had been gone from this world at least a few hours before I got there. Still, I put the kiss of death on the pizza by allowing my car’s tire to puncture through the skin of cheese, and allowing the marinara to flow red in the street. This, in turn, makes me responsible for finding out “who done it”.
It’s scarred me. I went to my favorite pizza place on Saturday night to grab a couple slices. I stood their looking at the display case, my mouth
watering crying at the thought of the pizza slice in the parking lot. It should have been eaten, I thought as I waited in line. I would have eaten it. Why wasn’t I there in time?
I selected two different slices, because 1.) I can’t commit to just one type of pizza and 2.) I can only save so many pieces of pizza on a part-time/freelancer’s salary. I paid and left before I could change my mind and sacrifice my entire life savings on buying all the slices and giving them a good home (side note, my life savings isn’t much) (another side note, my stomach would be their new home).
Rest assured readers, I’m on the case. The WANTED posters are taped to telephone pole’s and pizza parlor doors throughout the Twin Cities. While the photo I’m using is pretty graphic, I’m hoping it sparks outrage and determination in civilians everywhere to find the culprit in this case. In the meantime, I’ll stay hot on the trail, the bloody pizza sauce of our fallen hero trapped in the grooves of my tire, wrongly framing me for the rest of time.
Stay vigilant, my friends. This cold-blooded pizza killer could be coming to a town near you.