There is something heart-wrenching about eating pizza with your family. It’s sad enough to have a crush on your pastor. And “your’ is a tangled enough possessor but mostly it can mean nothing. Like your typical teenager, which I don’t think I was, except for the crush part.

We prayed over our pizza, right there in Pizza Hut, on Highway 9, i.e. said Grace, i.e. I listened to Pastor Glenn give thanks for our Pizza, in which he also mentioned me, to God, that I might find members of the opposite sex attractive.

Amen.