Short story by Geez
The uneaten pizza lay exquisitely on the scarlet padding, just ever so slightly askew, for all to see. The sign on the side of the showcase explained all the technical details – the brown spots were meat substitutes made from soy, that was common during that period in time, and the red stripes were extra tomatoes. It told how people embittered their sodas with quinine and spiced their pizzas with chili pepper. The sign told nothing, of course, of the story of the pizza, of the complicitous loved one and his zealous lover. It was not possible and there was no need. The story was known to all.
It is a strange thing. Sometimes a story is well known yet admitting knowledge of it is considered bad taste. A farm girl, walking with her city cousin and his friends could pass by the showcase, and asking of it receive a backhanded compliment for her knowledge of the topic. All knew the story, all had to remember it, yet dwelling on it for too long would surely lead to lunacy. The pizza was left laying there, a cold and somewhat tasteless souvenir to the most terrible story in the history of mankind. It was certainly A Night to Remember.