"oh god i just got hit with that uh um that red flashy thing by some guys in uniform and i can't speak french anymore"

paul was sad. he was super hungry after his flight to quebec from chicago. of course, having to go from chicago to atlanta then

"help me michael! i can't order pizza in french"

"...you too?" michael responded with a shrug.

paul was irritated. he was very, very hungry, but he had no more knowledge of french. he had one friend who was a native speaker, though.

"hey gary, can you order pizza in french?"

gary shrugged. "dude, this is quebec, if you absolutely can't speak french english will work fine. this is canada, not france."

then they ordered pizza for three. just a plain pepperoni one cut into six equally sized slices. they say that pizza was perfection, and no other pizza will ever be that good again.

...fortunately, in gary's hometown of philadelphia, the pizza was almost that good. and in cincinatti, they had their own pizza that was available nowhere else. one wonders why no tourists ever imported the recipe.