The Tale of the Overcooked Pizza Rolls

It was a late Sunday afternoon. All duties and responsibilities were absent on that day. Boredom and excessive masturbation had me at the utmost level of exhaustion. The boredom had me on edge, and yet I have the energy or feel the necessity to do anything. This Sunday was MY day. I had it all to myself, and could freely chose to do whatever it was I wanted to do.

My freedom and boredom led to me sitting on the couch, naked, watching Gilmore Girls season 3 on DVD. I didn't feel any guilt about how much fucking fun I was having. I deserved to indulge the greatest things that life has to offer. The only thing which could have completed this perfect day was a delicious tray of Totino's Pizza Rolls. Luckily for my white-trash self, there was a whole, unopened box of those mothers in the freezer.

I sprinted to the freezer in joyous glee, as my genitals dangled around freely, much like that bell thing in the grandfather clocks does. I pulled that box out quicker than a misguided teenage boy pulls his ding dong out of an unsatisfied partner. I waited anxiously as the oven preheated to the proper temperature. And waited.

Finally it was time! I placed the pizza rolls on an oven tray a half-inch apart from each other. (Like the instructions direct, mind you!) Now only ten minutes separated me and those pizza filled bread pocket things from indulging into some pretty graphic behavior .

To pass the time, I decided to lay down on the couch and think about how phenomenal of a person I was. As I pondered the many great qualities that make up me, including my abdominals and feet, I began to doze off. I couldn't battle the exhaustion. I figured I would be able to just doze for a couple minutes and still have the ability to awaken on instinct.

When I woke up from my short slumber I immediately glanced over at the clock. SON OF A GUN! My short, sexually exhausted nap lasted fifteen minutes! I sprung up off of the couch like a surprisingly agile old lady after hearing about a bingo and prune juice convention. Horrible thoughts rushed through my head as I sprinted to the oven and slammed the off button with my skinny, decrepit finger.

I tore the oven door open and looked disgustedly down at the blackened pieces of shit that rested before me. The cheese sauce, which was originally inside the tortillas, oozed through depressingly. Spots of charcoal and awful black shading covered each individual roll of the pizza...rolls. My eyes shed tears of disappointment and urine over the sub-par, destroyed gourmet snacks. The burnt snacks looked up at me with evil, rapey eyes as my tears extinguished their Hellish flames.

The day was ruined. Failure to complete a perfect day meant that all of the other positive events which occurred were meaningless. Sitting around naked. Gilmore Girls. A juicebox. My new unicycle. It was all irrelevant. Those burnt pizza rolls canceled out the greatness of everything else. I couldn't blame Totino's for my mistake, but I could claim that they were buttholes whom I hated. So yeah, SCREW TOTINO's. Maybe they should have sold a product that reminds lazy people to go over to the oven so their fatass can shove those things into their face.

@gurskyman