Remember the Noid? In the 1980s, he ruined pizza, insofar as Domino’s can be ruined any more than it already is by simply existing. That rabbit-eared little red scamp represents all the obstacles that can get in the way of hot, semi-delicious pizza being delivered straight to your door, and, as we all know, the Noid must be avoided at all costs.
At least, that’s what he represents for most people. For me, the Noid must be avoided because of the night of unsatisfying, awkward sex that he and I once shared, and bumping into that freak is really, really uncomfortable. Like, it’s not going to happen again, dude.
Here are the six worst times I had to avoid the Noid and try not to think about his weird, plunger-shaped dick.
1. After the Noid and I met at last call in a bar and had eight minutes of no-eye-contact sex, I spent a very uncomfortable night trying to get to sleep on his twin mattress while he did this snore-whistle thing that made his weird ears blow up in the air and then fall on his face. In the morning, I snuck out while he was still asleep and popped into a nearby 7/11 for a Gatorade Zero of shame. To my horror, a hungover Noid slouched in and ate a hot dog straight off the roller, forcing me to avoid him by ducking into a cooler and hiding beneath the 40s.
2. I thought that I would never see the Noid again and counted myself lucky. That is until I went to see a performance of They Might Be Giants, which turns out to be that little pizza monster’s favorite band. I spent the entire goddamn show paranoid that he was going to see me and standing behind tall dorks to avoid him. He ended up shoving his way to the front and screamed at John Flansburgh to “play the ‘Malcolm in the Middle’ song” until security grabbed him by the ears and dragged him out.
3. Months later, I was getting a pepperoni and ricotta slice at Jimmy’s Pizzaporium, a hidden gem among the many pizza cafes of the city. Turns out the Noid has been two-timing Domino’s because he walked right in like he owned the place and started jumping on pizzas, cackling like the madman he is. I did the only thing I could to avoid him: fake a heart attack and incur a massive ambulance bill to get taken out of there.
4. I should have known that the Noid would be at his own cousin’s funeral, but what could I do? Arthur Noidberg was a good friend who was there for me in some pretty low moments, including fucking the Noid. Fortunately, the Noid showed up already drunk, and all I had to do to avoid him was crouch under the open casket for about an hour.
5. Our nation’s capitol should be a Noid-free zone, but those fat cats in Washington don’t seem to see it that way. It had been a dream of mine to go on a White House tour and smell the Lincoln Bedroom since I was a child, but wouldn’t you know it, I caught a whiff of ruined pizza while waiting in line. I slapped a Secret Service agent as hard as I could, and though I spent eight months in a correctional facility, it was worth it to avoid Mister “I can’t get hard without nipple play.”
6. The last time I saw the Noid was in an underground kumite ring, one of the few places I can feel something, anything after the harsh life lessons I learned in prison. The Noid was facing off against a Belgian kickboxer, while I had just defeated a so-called master of the Crane Style. I wiped his blood over my face in an effort to disguise myself, but I had no need to worry. The kickboxer broke my former lover’s back over his knee, Bane-style, and I knew that I would never have to avoid him again.
RIP, Noid. You sucked in bed.