Lady ordered "well done WELL DONE" pizzas from dominos. I did the usual +1-2 minutes more in the oven and noticed plenty of burnt cheese and toppings when I boxed it. Lady picked up the food and left. Fifteen minutes later, her redneck husband throws the boxes on the counter, asks for me, and demands I "cook this raw food" and threatens to pulls me over the counter.

So I remake the pizzas and give them an extra +4 minutes (oven only takes 5) to where there was essentially a layer of char across the entire top of the pizza. I drive over and deliver the pizzas. Their son, who I went to school with, is walking around shirtless with a big iron cross tattoo on his chest. They approve the burnt pies and I go on my way, swearing to myself one day I'll get out of this shithole town