I once lived in a time where pizza was forbidden. It was an odd time, where a mouse could find the occasional piece of cheese, or bread, or pepperoni, but never together. This was back in the day, when the United States had banned pizza for a short while.

Now, some of my friends tried to get around the ban, (Panhibition, we called it) and they would run secret shops in the back of bakeries. At night, under the guise of buying a loaf of bread, patrons would enter in the front of the bakery, and exit the back with their cheezy, gooey goodness. These "speakcheezies" as they came to be known were often the target of police raids. Sometimes the police could be bought off with the odd slice or a couple bucks.

I once saw a man arrested over a Stromboli. He told the officer it was for medical purposes, but still got locked up. The man's brother was a kid named Johnny, but everyone in C-Town, we called him Papa John. So Papa John says to me, he says "You wanna make a buck?"

Next thing I know, I'm on a boat loaded with fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, and basil, crossing the Cuyahoga at midnight. When I reached the docks at the other end, I got a calzone for my troubles. A calzone! That doesn't hold a man over. I told Papa John, "You promised me the hard stuff!" So, he says, "Go see my boys down the street playing Dominos."

I went down the street, and there's this big thug playing with this little tiny guy. I said, "So what's the deal?" The big dude gets up and says "This here's Caesar. You give him $5 and he'll make your wish come true."

So I gave him the $5. The guy gets up and punches me in the stomach. Then they roll me into the river. I said "What's the deal? Is this delivery?" And the guy says "No, it's DiGiorno."

I heard they all got pinched after that. Shortly after, the good ol' US of A allowed its citizens to have that delicious moon-shaped meal again, and now my children and my children's children don't need to worry about being too skinny ever again.