My Small Part

There are no small roles in social protest, and I took my place along with the other angry people horrified at the Jena 6 debacle by buying 6 frozen Jeno’s pizzas on the way home tonite. I’m telling you, I’m not even kidding, I’ve been obsessed with these things for about a month. And I don’t really know why; I’m looking at one right now and I see no cheese, the sausage looks like pencil shavings and the crust is apparently made out of crackers. But something about when you bite in....it’s like the first time you’re about to munch on a girl’s twat, you look in and are like “oh, HELL no!” and then next thing you know you’re out in her father’s boat in the middle of the river with her sitting on your face and not even her family dog licking your newly infected big toe can make you stop, know what I mean? Makes no sense when looking at it, but there you go. Life in a frozen box.

And another thing I love is no matter what or how many toppings you get, it’s the same price. Real pizza, you gotta pay extra for each topping. Not Jenos. “Whaddya want, the plain cheese, nothing on it? Great, that ‘ll be 99 cents....the pepperoni? 99 cents...hey, this one has truffles sorbet and once touched Princess Di’s nipple...tell you what, gimme 99 cents for it....”

Fucking Jenos. Slice. Of. Slices.