Growing up, pizza always had sixteen slices. That was how it was. I’d eat a few, 2 or maybe 3 at most, but that was it. Mom had like one, Ryan my brother had the same as me usually. Then we’d put the rest in the fridge and eat it for a few days. I learned a few years later that pizza is usually only cut into eight slices. My mom would slice pizzas when she got home with it in order to stretch it out longer.

That was the first time I realized that we grew up really, really poor. I also learned when I hid in my mom’s closet to surprise her for her birthday and I saw her jacking off a strange man and then holding a knife to his throat until he gave her money.