The thing that he wondered most about was that were a Pepperoni stick to be a person, would it be happy? Would it be happy with its existence?
He usually thought about this when he was eating a Pepperoni stick, although he also often thought about it when riding the subway, or while watching television, or anything else in which gave him free time to think.
While eating the Pepperoni stick he would smile and enjoy life. He wondered if the Pepperoni stick knew that. He wondered if the Pepperoni stick could feel his ephoria and would feel its being was not in vain. Would it not be happy that it has a purpose? How many people live and die without one.
How lucky the Pepperoni stick is.
He often wished to be a Pepperoni stick himself.
"Damn my luck," he would say and then lie down in a gocery store next to his beloved Pepperoni sticks. If anyone said anything to him, he would say, "Fuck off, only Pepperoni sticks here." The police would need to be called.
Blame society. Blame yourself. Blame our own cruelty. Just leave the fucking Pepperoni sticks alone.