Once upon a time there was a frozen pizza named Millena. So named because, well, that was the company that had made her. Mild mannered Millena was one day sitting in her normal place on the top shelf of the deep freeze in the Redd's place of residence when to her astonishment, the freezer opened, and a hand reached toward her, taking her out of her comfortable home and into the discomfort of the room temperature kitchen.
Now Millena was a shy pizza, she rarely associated with the bags of peas and cans of lemonade concentrate that lived next door to her in the deep freeze. But what the Redd's didn't know was that though Millena was quiet and shy, she had a temper like a gas range.
Millena was not impressed at being taken out of her comfortably cold home. She was even less impressed when she was taken out of her pretty cardboard box with her name written on it in red block letters.
But the Redd's did not care for the suffering they caused poor Millena. They wanted lunch, and hungry people are notorious for listening to nothing but their own stomachs. So they did not hear Millena's disgruntled protests. They paid no mind when she wailed as her plastic cover was taken off. They did not care that the pizza pan was too small for her, and she was uncomfrtable on that ugly dish. They just wanted their lunch.
You can imagine Millena's horror and displeasure when she was placed in the oven at 425 degrees to bake for 25 minutes. This was the final straw. She would not stand for this mistreatment.
Her temper got the better of her. In her rage, Millena swelled to an enormous size. Her cheesy goodness turned to brittle black, her lovely thin crusts curved over the edge of the pan and burned. Her delectable pepperoni retained the flavour and texture of cardboard. And while all this was happening. Millena grew. She grew until she was no longer a pizza, but instead, a gaint, dougy bubble ready to explode.
It was a good thing the cook opened the oven at that precise moment. Had she waited a second more, Millena would be decorating the inside of the stove. Once out of the oven, Millena's temper simmered down. She shrunk to almost the correct size and shape again, but her grudge remained. She would never forgive these people for taking her from her home in the deep freeze.
So she remained burnt and bland tasting, and was therefore, not the tastiest of lunches.