10/23/2026
Some days you amble into the station wagon, Book-It pinback button secured to your Lee jeans denim jacket, and daydream in the backseat while your mom drives you and your little brother to Pizza Hut for your hard earned pizza buffet. You gulp icey soda out of red plastic stacking cups and you absolutely crush your pepperoni personal pan pizza before a few rounds of street fighter and ms. pac man. Your mom hits the salad bar and loads up on cottage cheese and the orange slices, but she doesnt shy away from a personal pan p of her own. Thirty years later, you’re on ebay at work trying to buy a pizza themed tiffany lamp for your breakfast nook and making phone note reminders to grab some w**e to take to your friend’s engagement party this weekend. As David Byrne once sang, “This was a Pizza Hut, now it’s all covered with daisies,” and maybe he was singing about you, the shifting sands of time, the way that you wish you could read a book like you used to, when your hard work would portend the dinner of your dreams
