I was in the second grade by this time. Reading, writing, and eating paste were the order of the day. I had purchased a slice of pizza for lunch and sat down to savor the greasy yumminess of government-issued pepperoni. But I had forgotten a vital ingrediant. No pizza is complete without a liberal sprinkling of salt on top. I got up from my seat to secure my oxydized nirvana, and when I returned...true human terror filled my soul. My pizza was gone. This was the second time in four years that this had happened to me. It was then that I began to suspect that there was some sort of greater power involved in my affairs.
I tried to ask the other kids around me what had happened. My inquiries yielded little fruit, and even less pizza. Some said the kid sitting next to me had eaten it while I was away. Others said I had already eaten it myself. Still others insisted I had never purchased any pizza at all, and was only making this whole thing up to get attention. This sent me over the edge. I couldn't believe how cold they were being to my plight. I started crying like a little girl as loudly as I could. Surely this would flush out the culprit.
Unfortunately, all it managed to do was get me sent to the principal's office without any pizza. A part of my soul turned cold that day. And as the principal yammered on about how I needed to get my act together, I realized that I had to dedicate my life to finding the truth.
The war was on...