He’s always been different, but come on. It’s been days, possibly weeks, that he’s been getting away with wearing this horrible garb. There’s pepperoni in my favorite chair and olives on the front porch. We’re going to have to do something about this, all of us. I know most of the family quit talking to him when he announced his love for three cheese blend (since its kinda un-American). Maybe if we put our heads together we can bake up a plan that works. No. More. Pizza. Dress.