You're in school, you just got done with your last exam. You head to a friend's house and you collectively pig out (pardon the pun) on a pepperoni pizza XXL.
You're in college, it's a lazy afternoon and you're deep diving into a tall glass of beer and a sweet, sweet pepperoni massive.
Cut to present day, you get home after a long shift at work and you're starving. You go online, but something's wrong. Something's missing.
With little to no fanfare, the most prestigious pizza of all was taken away from us.
And just like that, it's gone. The Domino's pepperoni pizza, their glorious mother superior, their piece de resistance, their Ballon d'Or. Somehow, they'd pulled it off their menu without anyone noticing.
The pain was made worse by hope. Hope that it'd return. That this was all just a bad dream.
For one hot minute, I thought it's a glitch. Maybe that site that rhymes with tomahto just messed up. It'll be back soon, I told myself. But then I checked the other outlets. I went as far as Noida (on Google Maps). Nothing. It was as if this delicious little bite of my childhood and adult life had just disappeared.
People had different ways of reacting to this news, none of it good.
I desperately called on some fellow pepperoni aficionados. "It's gone, goddammit!" And together we mourned the demise of our favourite unhealthy indulgence. Some of us dealt with the withdrawal with courage, the rest of us just kind of withered away, mere shells of what we once used to be.
Other places might offer the same product by name, but you can't match the magic that Domino's managed.
Sure, other joints offer pepperoni pizzas as well, but they don't have the same doughy constitution. The Domino's pepperoni had a certain je ne sais quois. I could be stuffed to the brim with food, and still make space for a slice.
It's a feeling of anger, sadness and most of all, bereavement. Goodbye old friend, I hope I eat you again.