What the fuck did you just fucking say about pineapple on pizza, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class at Le Cordon Bleu, and I’ve been involved on numerous secret cooking shows on Food Network, and I have over 300 confirmed better pizza toppings. I am trained in spinning the fucking dough and I’m the top saucer in the entire Pizza Hut forces. Your pizza is nothing to me but just another shitty bastard food. I will wipe your pizza the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been in seen before in a Papa John’s, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with eating that shit near me over a paper plate? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of chefs across the USA and your delivery address is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm of delicious meats and cheeses, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your favorite pizza topping. You’re fucking dead, pineapple. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can cook you a better pie in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in stone pizza oven cooking, but I have access to the entire arsenal of Domino’s and Blackjack and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable pineapple off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” topping was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury and red sauce all over you and you will drown in it. Your pizza is fucking dead, kiddo.