I like pizza...I like it!

Pizza is my absolute favorite food. When I eat it, colors seem brighter, the air smells fresher, and wherever I go small forest animals gather in pairs and sing to me.

Because Brett can eat more pizza than I can in one sitting, I am forced to be vigilant about how the pizza is divided to make sure that we both get an equal amount, regardless of when it is eaten. From my half of the pizza, I usually save a couple of pieces to take for lunch at the office the next day. These are wrapped in foil and stowed (sometimes hidden) in the fridge with strict instructions to Brett, "Do NOT eat my pizza! Don't eat it now. Don't eat it for a midnight snack. Don't eat it for breakfast. Do not touch."

One morning, my leftover pizza was missing. The foil was in the trash, the dirty plate was in the sink, the pizza was gone. All evidence pointed to someone other than me having a late-night snack. I was crushed. I had been dreaming of that pizza and now I would have to go without.

I called Brett and left a really whiny message on his cellphone which I hoped conveyed the extent of my injury:

"So I guess I'll just go hungry for lunch today. Someone ate my pizza last night. That someone obviously doesn't care about his wife AT ALL. Serious, SERIOUS injury inflicted. I'm going to write it down in my book. Well, if I have the strength. I'm not sure I will since I don't have a lunch to take to work today...because did I mention that SOMEONE AT MY PIZZA..." and on and on and on.

Brett called me later on that day. I couldn't believe he had the nerve to even speak to me. I was sure he was calling to apologize and tell me what a rotten person he was and how he deserved to be dragged into the street and beaten with a stick of pepperoni. Instead, he said:

"You goon-puppy. I didn't eat your pizza."

"I know you did. Just admit it and throw yourself on the mercy of the court. I may be lenient."

"I didn't eat it. You ate it last night before you went to bed."

"Yeah, right. That's the lamest excuse I've ever heard. What kind of an idiot do you think I am? You're saying that I ate my own pizza and can't remem...oooohhhh.....uhhhhh. Oops, I did eat it myself. I forgot. Never mind. Sorry."

"Dork."

"Yup. But I'm your dork."