I was just a man working a cheap job as a pizza cook in lower Manhattan. My life wasn’t anything special. I worked tirelessly to support my two kids and my wife, and invested all the money I had into making my children happy, despite barely having enough to scrape by. I tried to fight the feeling that I wasn’t doing enough, but eventually it became too much for me to handle. I felt alone, despised, and unwanted, and so I turned to alcohol to rid myself of the dread. The happy persona I was putting on for my kids was nothing but a facade. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I confessed to my wife how miserable I was. But she didn’t help me. She told me I was a terrible excuse for a father, and that she felt anguish just knowing her children had to grow up with me as a father figure. She took them and left the state. And so I sat in my worn down apartment for days on end, alone, waiting for the inevitable end which seemed so far, and yet, so close. I strived to feel something, anything, and that feeling finally came when I laid my eyes on my first pizza rat. I don’t know what happened, but it felt like something just clicked. To me, the rats embodied how in life, we need to take time and appreciate the little things. They had nothing but a mere slice of pizza, and yet, the rats seemed so... whole. The rats looked as though they were content despite not having any possessions aside from the lone slice of pizza they were carrying. And so I tried to call Cheryl. I was hoping to tell her that I wanted to change, that I wanted to make her happy, and that I wanted to be there for our kids. I wanted to, but she didn’t answer. It’s been two months since then, and I still haven’t heard from her, but it’s fine. I don’t need my family, I don’t need validation. All I need now is pizza rats.

As a child, I wasn’t allowed to eat pizza after the incident in ‘83. My mother and father claimed it was “a work of satan”. I remember sneaking out when I was 15-17 to go eat (the devils pie) pizza with my friends who also weren’t allowed to indulge in eating pizza pies. We would order from Pizza Hut, Mazzios, Ken’s pizza, Little Caesars, dominos, and especially papa Johns. One time at a party, my friends and I were the ones to have to get the pizza. We left the party but it was too late, all of the pizza places were closed, even the local joints. We drove all around town looking for an open pizza place. Once we arrived at the closed Papa Johns, we were losing hope. One of my friends thought it would be a good idea to dumpster dive for pizza. We proceed to hop into the Papa Johns dumpster one by one. We look around to find no pizza. But finally, after looking in a trash bag, we found a fresh pizza pie. But what’s that? There was a little critter in there. A rat. It was a rat. A rat that could talk. He told us he baked the pie just for us. Good ol’ wood fired pizza. We talked with the rodent for a while. But after about half an hour had passed, it was time to go back to the party. On the road back home we all silently thought about how bizarre the experience was. Where did the rat learn to cook? Where did he cook it? Is there gas in the car? How did he know we were wanting wood fired pizza? Where did the rat learn to talk!!?? All questions we were asking ourselves. We finally made it back to the party after a long and silent car ride. We went inside and saw everyone’s faces light up when we brought the pizza in. We saved the party. We never told a single soul. Even my longtime crush Stacy (who I had never spoken to before this) was celebrating and she seemed interested in me. We hit it off and started a relationship. We just celebrated our 30th anniversary. This app made me remember my story. Thank you pizza rat, my life wouldn’t be the same without you.

Growing up in a conservative home that discouraged “free media,” my first look into Western Entertainment was the film “Ratatouille.” I would sneak into my neighbors home just to get a glimpse of Remy’s fantastic tale with gourmet cuisine. My neighbors couldn’t understand my fascination with the film but they would still let me indulge myself. They eventually left town for the city but before leaving they gave me the CD of Ratatouille. This inspired me to go to University so that I can pursue my dreams of traveling the world and eventually eating the food that Remy cooks. Pizza Rats isn’t just a Stickers add-on, to me it’s a reminder of where I came from. I look back and wonder where I would be had I not watched Ratatouille. I look at Pizza Rats and chuckle as it gives me the same warm feeling that it had given me in my childhood.

Now, one would assume nowadays that Pizza Rats was legendary from the start. However, one may be surprised to learn that Pizza Rats was not so well off from the beginning. I stumbled upon Pizza Rats one beautiful 3 am night. At this time, during the 2020 Quarantine I had not showered in 4 days. I stared at this sticker collection for several minutes until I finally decided to hit that buy button. I did not even believe I could afford Pizza Rats for the low low price of $0.99! But lo and behold, the purchase had gone through. I instantly became rejuvenated and decided to test these suckers out. What do you know? That 3am night, April 3rd, during the great plague of 2020, I made two people smile for $0.99. God bless.- The Giant Rat