How eating at Pizza Hut Killed my Mittens

Dear Pizza Hut PR lady,
Two weeks ago, I was supposed to have an uplifting victory mean in your establishment in Cornwall.
After three months of pure misery in my personal life, I wanted Pizzahut to take part in the celebrations of a major life event. Unfortunately, what was supposed to be a night of pleasantries, ended up in the untimely death of my poor little kitten, Mittens.

Here is what happened…

About three years ago, I swam to Canada in order to establish a life here as an extremely hard working foreign laborer. Since day one I had been breaking my back doing all kinds of work, which the average Canadian was not up for. (I am talking: Alligator Dentist, Human Centipede (middle), and Midnight Vigilante etc.) Now I am not complaining, since Canada has been more than good to me. However, the moment I arrested the last criminal alive, Immigration Services decided they no longer needed superheroes and deported me without a second thought.

Fortunately for me, the moment they put me on a boat, crime rates spiked back up and the Canadian Government BEGGED me to come back. It took them about three months of begging before I finally caved in and made my return to Canada. This happened in Cornwall, ON, and that is where your establishment comes into play.

The ManBearPig

I walked into the restaurant with this supermodel I picked up at Border Services and was escorted by a really nice waitress to our table. Now, I doubt she had ANY ill intend when she placed us in a booth between two tables that already had other guests. For her, this would make serving us a lot more convenient and I truly appreciate such cleverness in employees. However, what she clearly missed was that the two tables were filled with a Manbearpig and an Overweight Banshee that smelled like moldy cheese. As soon as we sat down, Manbearpig and Overweight Banshee started shrieking at each other, which appeared to be some sort of communication ritual. The conversation went pretty much as following:

MBP: “Shreeeeeeee”
MBP: “Hissshhh CA-CAW”
OvB: “Snort” (shaking her head)

Now it took a while before I was able to understand their language, but for your convenience I’ll translate it to English.

Right after we placed our order with the competent and friendly waitress, we were treated to this gem from Manbearpig:

“One time, I cut my thumb so deep; I was bleeding all over myself. I left a trail from the kitchen to the bathroom”

Now, although this is already not the best dinner conversation, she blasted this line at 160 dB across the restaurant. My beautiful supermodel immediately gave me the stare of death as the words engraved themselves forever in her no doubt perfectly shaped brain. We gave it our best shot and tried to ignore the complete violation of at least 5 books that have been written on social etiquette, however, I couldn’t help myself and had to retreat to the washroom to vomit the mental image away.

I really wish I didn’t, because as it turned out shortly after, I needed the content of my stomach later on, since the previous comment was just a warm-up for the rest of the extremely loud and highly inappropriate conversation. As I returned, something must have been said, because my supermodel had a look on her face that can only be described as pure horror and disgust. Luckily for us, the nice and competent waitress had just brought us some delicious bread sticks with pasta sauce.

Unfortunately the sauce matched the conversation that now boomed across the restaurant.

OvB: “Oh, I can tell by my cramps that I will be having a heavy flow, but that won’t stop this stallion”

Have fun, you cannot unsee this picture ever.

With those 21 words, my supermodel date shriveled away into a little old lady with Alzheimer’s and spend the rest of the evening rocking back and forth and I couldn’t chomp away those delicious breadsticks fast enough in the hopes my stomach would turn it into barf for another round of mental cleansing.

Did you know the straws you serve at your restaurants are not rigid enough to pierce a human eardrum?
I do…

The only reason we did not leave at this point is because we already put in our order and we didn’t want to waste good pizza because, you know, Africa and stuff. So, we soldiered on and I had to use all my knowledge of Jedi-Mind blocking to make it to the entree.

Now, I am a BIG fan of pizza (no seriously, I’m a huge man) and I was CONVINCED that whatever these two demi-humans would blurt out in front of their OWN kids, couldn’t ruin my appetite for delicious pizza.
But, once again, their little crocodile brains managed to wiggle something in between me and my Meat Lovers Goodness.

MBP: “We don’t bother with hormones anymore, I just keep my legs in the air for a while so it can really seep in”

 My little Alzheimer lady immediately burst into a weird green flame and even the pepperoni on my Pizza reformed itself into a sad smiley face that could only mean “Dude..what the fuck?”
As I coping mechanism I drifted off in a very lucid day dream about ManbearPig and Overweigh Banshee strolling to a park, where they suddenly get torn apart by a group of hungry velociraptors who don’t even want to eat them.

"Yeah...i'm not gonna eat that"

This blissful moment doesn’t last long as I get brutally yanked back into reality by Overweight Banshee’s rebuttal.

OvB: “When we didn’t want to get pregnant, we just did it in the other hole, you know, the OTHER hole…the OTHER OTHER white meat?”

The little pile of ash that was once my supermodel date immediately reformed into her former self, just for the opportunity to explode into a pink cloud of embarrassment and I had to physically fight back a wave of disgust by stuffing napkins into my esophagus.

No amount of Purell would disinfect our brains after this and no amount of deliciousness would bring back our appetites for the next few days. We paid the waitress and tipped her for the good service, but still left your fine establishment in disgust.  We drove home slightly queasy and even the comforting thought that we were putting decent mileage in between ourselves and Manbearpig & Overweight Banshee could settle our stomachs.
We got home, hands still shaking, and sat down at our kitchen table planning to drown out our mental trauma with some hard liquor.

In my state of confusion I accidentally repeated the “other hole” phrase out loud, without knowing that cute little Mittens was prancing around at my feet.

Mittens, before her little head exploded

Being a kitten without any defenses against such words, she froze…started to shake and convulse and finally her cute little head exploded, leaving once innocent bits of cat brain all over my stainless steel appliances.

If Pizzahut would have stepped in and removed these vile persons from your otherwise fine establishment, I would not have been scarred for life, and my cute little kitten’s head would not have exploded.

As you can imagine, I am not amused.

-          Dave Stevens