The other guy who owned the pizza shop went berserk.Took a ball-peen to his hard-headed woman and went to work.
He and she, they disagreed on much,
All the toppings the topics of her torment touched.
It was explained to visitors in hushed tone and local lore: that's the reason we couldn't get pizza delivered for.
Time (but not enough time) passed.
Disgust gave way, our hunger 'massed.
And the hankering for a slice grew great,
So, to out-of-towners, we implored for new owners.
Again, the magic discs of melted cheese we ate.
But upon our bellies full, we still deflate, thinking again how that woman met her fate.
Shame comes back to visit on every plate.
Has its symbolic barrows.
The hot cheese of stigma stretches, never narrows.