The Last Slice

You're friends are all over. The Packer game is on. Beer is flowing good, the Packers are ahead. Everything is perfect, expect one thing. You're all starving. It's time to order up some pizza. You and your friends dig into your pockets and are able to come up with enough spare change to pay for a large pizza, one topping. You find out on the phone with the pizza shop of your choice that you can now afford to add an additional topping at no extra charge. Sweet beans.

Packers score another run. Following cheesehead tradition while is only known to you and your friends, and likewise only praticed by your own crowd solely, you chug down a whole can of beer.

Pizza arrives. Delivery boy walks back smiling after you tell him to keep the change. However, once in the car he realized you meant it literally as the change from the bill only amounts to $.23.

But alas, pizza has arrived. Favre is unbeatable, the beer never tasted better and you're all about to stuff your faces. Can this day get any better. You all reach in and grab a slice. God damn, pizza never tasted so good.

Interception, Packers recover the ball. Cheers followed by more beer is well rewarded.

You're still hungry. You look down. Dammit, there's only one slice of pizza left. You mentally count to see if everyone already had an equal amount, but you're not sure. Darn, how many slices are in a pizza again? You grow silent wondering if you grab the last piece.

You notice your friends have all grown a bit uncomfortable as well. That God damn last slice. You can literally see the evil aura arise from it as it sets in. You look to your friend, he's a bit overweight. You know that fat fucker is dying to have that last slice. But he doesn't deserve it. After all, he's fat.

You see your other friend. The Jew. He doesn't deserve it either. You don't know why, but it has something to do with the fact that you're slightly drunk and that you heard on South Park that the Jews were responsible for killing Christ. Damn those Jews. He doesn't deserve it either.

60 yard gain by the Packers. They are now in range to score yet again. A few headnods of cheesehead approval, but no outward cry of brewed celebration. That damn slice of pizza has now cast it's retched spell on you three.

The pizza has been sitting there for a good half of a quarter now. The Jew speaks up, with a sweaty brow. "Uh, did someone want that last slice?"

You blurt out, "Nah, you can have it."

WHY!?!?!? Why did you say that. You immediately curse yourself quietly for your error. Your eyes burn as you glare at the Jew and his selfish ways. Damn him. Damn yourself. Damn it all.

The Jew reaches into to take the last slice.

"Dude", the blubber ass that resembles your friend utters. "Split that with me."

And what does that Messianic crucifer do? He rips it in half and gives it to the guy that could fit about 50 more slices in that bathtub he calls his stomach.

Your anger for them spills over onto yourself as you realize how pathetic you are for not taking the last slice. This is your house dammit. Your big screen TV.

Touchdown. Packers score again. Fuck Brett Favre. You're pissed.

You decide right then and their to plot their murders. The Jew and the Fatboy. Wasn't that a TV show? Well it's going to be the 9 o'clock news tomorrow.