I had quite forgotten how good a really juicy multi-cheese pepperoni pizza can be. I did not check to see what the bad news nutrition panel said. I just wanted, for once, to be evil. It could have been worse. It could have been a deep-fried Mars Bar.
I didn’t quite manage to finish it so I let the left-over two slices cool down, wrapped them in foil, and put them in the fridge where they can sit until they go mouldy at which point I’ll throw them away.
I never quite caught on to the doggy bag subculture. If I leave food on my plate it’s usually for a pretty good reason. Like, I don’t want to eat it now, and I’m never, ever going to fancy it in the morning. Not even deep-fried.
“You fancy a piece, Dolly?” I asked as she came into the kitchen to see what all the yumming and ecstatic groaning was about.
She didn’t. More sense than me, that cat.
