Forgive Me Father For I Have Eaten...A Lot

I could have this all wrong.
Not necessarily a great way to start out I know. But this way I kinda cover my ass. Does the name Spatafore ring a bell? They were Roy's mother and father in-law. You remember Roy, the 8th grade biology teacher? A one time Motor City weightlifter crowned, Mr. Detroit.
Well the Spatafores owned the local sugar based gold mine downtown known as Caruso's. The town was already blessed with a Tastee Freez, a Frosty Freeze, an IGA, a Kroger's, a Hometown Super Market, a Mini-Mart and Bultman's Thriftway. Not to mention a Ben Franklin that already had a pretty killer candy section in it's own right. But this Caruso's, this, was the real deal.

Serious home made chocolate peanut clusters and sea foam, red and black licorice and other stuff that I probably didn't like so it probably won't get mentioned. And one of those light green, porcelain milk shake blenders that fit at least 2 or 3 stainless steel, milk shake containers. And when they poured the shake out into a tall, v-shaped glass, there was always some left that didn't quite make it into your glass and you wondered just who the hell that was going to end up with that.

This couple, the Spatafore's, didn't seem to be made up of any of the elements that make up sunshine, or anything even remotely warm...or fuzzy. Mr S. was a big guy. Six-two or better and, well, just big. And the only thing worse than a grumpy guy is a big grumpy guy. And Mrs.S., she wasn't exactly winning any PTA awards either. As a matter of fact, I cannot remember either one of them uttering a word. They seemed to communicate with their eyebrows which, in themselves, were quite significant and nimble.

About the time incense and rolling papers started making their way into our very humble, non yet side burned, very Christian Reformed little hamlet, Caruso's was also on a path toward change. A path that lead straight through our hearts like a blackened arrow. This path toward this thing that will change the way we eat for the rest of our lives. This thing...this thing called...pizza-by-the-slice.