Invasion of the pizza snatchers

We were eating supper at a cheap pizza restaurant--one of those places where the kitchen workers yell incomprehensible comments every time a new type of pizza is placed on the counter--when I saw before me something truly reprehensible. I have nothing against inventive pizza toppings. I have eaten potato pizza and shrimp pizza, and I have no fear of olives, anchovies, or feta cheese. This pizza, however, takes the cake, for piled high on that crusty pie was a steaming mound of macaroni and cheese.

"Two-year-olds have taken over the kitchen! Run for your lives!" is what I wanted to say, but instead I sat there silently and watched a dozen greedy, grasping hands polish off that pizza. We all have our limits, and I guess I've found mine. This is where I nail my theses to the kitchen door: we must stop the sales of such indulgences! By allowing toddlers' tastes to rule our kitchens, we sell our birthright for a mess of pottage-a-roni! I stand before that steaming mass of gooey macaroni and loudly proclaim, 'Thus far and no further!"

But alas, no one can hear me over the sound of their chewing.