("Yo! What'l it be, pizon?")
I had a dream last night that Sylvester Stallone was working at the pizza by the slice place on the corner by my house. I remember kind of feeling bad for him; the fact that he had to work there.
I love how in dreams we don't questions things like this, like how in the hell could Sly go broke overnight and move to Chicago to dole out slices of pizza. It made perfect sense last night.