Hey, Taylor Swift. Not the real Taylor Swift, but the giant face on my pizza box. You just got delivered to my door, and I can’t wait for all the fun things we are going to do together. I don’t even care about the pizza on the inside. In fact, I left the entire thing on my doorstep for the homeless man across the street to eat. You are perfect just like the real Taylor because I didn’t let any sauce or grease soak into the box. (I also tipped the delivery boy extra for being so delicate with you.)
Can I call you PBT, for “Pizza Box Taylor?” I like that we know each other so well that we can use nicknames. You can call me Giggle Bear. I also like that you fit snuggly into my arms. What do you want to do first PBT? Can I just caress your smooth surface for a bit? Hold me, PBT.
Your lips are so juicy and red. I think I’m going to kiss you a bit. Tell me when I should stop. Oh! I’m so sorry! I got a little carried away. Didn’t mean to crush your corner. There. All better. Nothing a little piece of tape can’t fix!
PBT, I think it’s time for us to duet a bit. What song should we sing? You are absolutely right. We should definitely do, “You Belong With Me,” because, well, you belong with me. Am I overpowering your vocals? I apologize. I’m just so happy that we are singing together.
I want the world to see you, PBT. I stole this dress from my friend’s closet and stuffed it with pillows. Do you like to ride in cars? I think it would be great if we could ride in my car with this stuffed dress as your body. No! It doesn’t make you look fat at all! You look so good. I promise.
Why are you sad, PBT? We just had a really great time driving around my gated community! Is it because you still kinda smell like pepperoni? It doesn’t even matter. I’m totally fine with that. Shhhhh. Don’t cry, Sweetie. Just rest your head on this pillow next to me in my bed in my parents’ basement.
- Heidi Thomasoni doesn’t have her Taylor Swift pizza box…yet.