With a bone-crunching roar, he hurdled the dough upwards, watching the light brown crust swirl through the stale air, the reflections of the blinding lights and filthy black and white floor skimming off it's crumpled edges, and as he reached up to collect his prize, a perfect, rounded, 16 incher... he poked a gaping hole straight through the center.

"Shit," he said.