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Pizza Hut


No one outpizzas the hut

    Out Pizza the Hut is a catchphrase inspired by Pizza Hut’s slogan, “No One OutPizzas The Hut,” which started in 2016.

    No one outpizzas the hut. trust me. I've tried. I've tried so hard to outpizza the hut and it cost me everything. no matter how much cheese, how many cheap toppings i put on my pizza i always got outpizza'd by the hut. No matter how much my pizzas tasted like plastic, pizza hut pizzas always tasted even more synthetic. for months I've been severely depressed trying to figure it out. it all started as a little hobby, a bit of a goof - "can i outpizza the hut?" but it soon became my obsession and eventually my downfall. the fateful moment i had that thought was the moment I doomed myself. They must have some sort of secret ingredient i thought. after trying literally everything from the supermarket and not coming close to the plasticy taste of the hut i actually went insane. i started clawing at my skin, scratching my face for hours with my long sharp fingernails. at first it was almost unnoticeable but i knew i could not hide the scars forever, soon enough karen would find out. I needed to put an end to this but the only way to do that would be to outpizza the hut, as i knew. so i tried one last ingredient. i cut off a piece of my own arm and put it on the pizza. i added the shittiest sauce i had and cheese made from 50 percent plastic and 50 percent wood chips and baked it real good. the taste was almost exactly like pizza hut but the meat wasn't tender enough. i knew it had to be younger meat. from someone much younger than me. i knew what had to be done. there was a moment of doubt as i grabbed the knife and went into holly's room, up to her little crib while karen was at work. but i knew what had to be done. I'd finally done it. I've created a pizza even shittier than pizza hut or so I thought. but it still wasn't horrible enough. when karen came home and saw what i had done she freaked out. i truly loved karen just like i loved holly but she was going to call the cops on me and I couldn't let my pizza hut mission be compromised by her. they were only my first two victims. i went on to sacrifice many more in the name of pizza perfection before i got caught. Now i am sitting here on death row, my execution is only hours away. Do you want to guess what I'll choose as my last meal?

    I finally did it. I out-pizza’d the Hut.

      No one out-pizzas the Hut.
      I finally did it. I out-pizza'd the Hut. It was the greatest mistake of my life.

After years of perfecting my recipe, I made my way down to the local hut, fresh-baked pizza pie in hand. "Try this," I told the kid working the counter. He did, and he had to agree that it was better than anything Pizza Hut had to offer. Soon, the entire store, customers included, was feasting on my delicious pie. The manager walked over, grabbed a slice, and took a bite. I look at him, anticipation rising. This was the boss, the local fief lord of the Hut. His approval meant more to me than all the rest combined. He took a bite and nodded. "I'll be damned," he said, "you really did it. You out-pizza'd the Hut. Shame." Shame? What did he mean by tha- the manager pulled a gun out from behind his apron and shot the nearest customer in the head. "We have a Code Jalapeño," he said into his wrist as he executed the remaining customers. "I repeat, we have a Code Jalapeño." The ground was slick with blood. The kid working the counter choked out his dying breath as the manager turned to me. "You just had to do it motherfucker. You just had to out-pizza the Hut." He shoved the gun in my face. I was too scared to fight, too scared to run. The manager pulled the trigger.

A click. The gun was empty. I threw a chair at the manager and scrambled out of the Pizza Hut, not even bothering to see if my missile hit its mark. I was closely pursued by the manager, who had gotten his hands on a deadly sharp pizza cutter. I suspected in his hands it would cut more than pizza. Somehow, I was able to get into my car and speed off, the manager cursing my existence as I left him behind. I took a deep breath. The manager was clearly psychotic. Yes, that was it, just a crazy man with a gun. It had to be. My phone rang. Sister. I picked it. "They're dead, she sobbed. They're all dead. M-mom, dad, Chris, Bill. Dead. They killed them all." I could barely understand her, so great were her sobs. "What do you mean? Where are you?" I asked urgently. "How is this possi-" a single gunshot sounded through my phone's speakers. Silence. Then, I heard a man's voice. "No one out-pizzas the Hut." He hung up. I drove down the empty county road, mind blank. I had nothing. They killed my family. I was alone.

At that moment I knew what I had to do. They took everything from me. Well then, I would take everything from them. Pizza Hut was so terrified of being out-pizza'd, they forgot there's one thing worse than a man with a recipe: A man with nothing to lose. I'll give them a limited time offer they won't be able to refuse: two bullets for the price of one.

With a free side order of pain.