It’s easy to get sick of your lunch options, particularly when you work in the suburbs and have to drive to get anywhere. I generally eat at the same handful of places week after week, none of which sell pizza. I haven’t managed to find a decent slice of cheap pizza near my work. They’re a breeze to find in the city, but apparently there’s something about suburban sprawl that is inconducive to selling pizza in any unit smaller than “by the pie.” “By the slice” is out there, sure, but they’re hard to find and mostly disappointing. This is my plight. Pity me.

So when I drove past some place called Goode & Fresh Pizza Bakery with a sign in the window that said “slices” or “by the slice” or “we have slices!” or something like that, I was pretty excited. “Goode” and fresh? That’s my kind of slice! I walked in and was happy to find an old lady in there, picking up an order. A good sign – she’s probably lived here a long time, I thought to myself. This woman has seen a lot of pizzas in her time. She knows a good pie when she sees one. This is good. No, wait – this is “Goode.” And fresh. Things were looking up.

The man behind the counter looked enthusiastic when he asked me “What’ll it be?” I asked him what kind of slices they had – he looked at me like I was an idiot. “We make it all fresh here,” he said. “Any kind of slice you want.” Okay, wait a minute. You’re telling me you guys cook individual pizza slices here? That rather than preparing a few pies with standard toppings (generally one plain cheese, one sausage, and one pepperoni) and keeping them under heat lamps, you guys will prepare individual pizza slices with any toppings I want? Why didn’t I know about this place before?! This is fantastic!

“Oh, wow!” I said. “Well… uhh… can I have a slice with… umm… pepperoni and mushrooms?”

“Pepperoni and mushrooms, comin’ right up!” he said. “That’ll be about five minutes.”

Wait a second.

Five minutes? Five minutes to make a slice of pizza? How “goode” or “fresh” can a slice of pizza that takes five minutes to prepare possibly be? And hey… now that I think about it… why is there an “e” on the end of the word “good” in their name?

Five minutes later, Mr. Goode comes out with a triangular pile of half-melted cheese on a Boboli and a huge smile on his face. I pay for it and eat it. Guess what? Goode & Fresh Pizza Bakery sucks.