Several years ago when I moved to Hillsboro, a town outside of Portland, OR, fate sent me a message. My wife and I had decided to order pizza, but didn’t know what places were closeby that might offer something above and beyond the usual Pizza Hut and Domino’s fare. Then, like a beacon of hope, I came home to find a flyer for Pizza in Paradise on my door. This was obviously meant to be.

The service was friendly and the delivery prompt, so things started out grand. All that remained was to see if the food was on par with their business acumen. Turns out it wasn’t bad at all. Not the best I’ve ever had, but better than other options out there.

As I was getting into my 2nd piece, something weird happened. A sausage broke free as I pulled the slice away from my mouth; I prepared to catch it, but instead of falling, it swung forward and was dangling from my mouth. However, it wasn’t stringy cheese that allowed this little ball of meat to repel down my chin — it was a blond hair, about two inches long.

Of course I freaked out, but eventually settled down. I have, after all, voluntarily eaten some pretty nasty things in my life. Nonetheless, I put down the pizza and moved on to the second part of my order, fettuccine alfredo. Warm, creamy, cheesy goodness was mine for the taking. I was in pasta heaven, until I identified something not so pasta-like with my tongue. I pushed it to the front of my mouth, grabbed hold and pulled. Out came a SECOND HAIR, this one 3-4 times longer than the first.

At this point I was officially mortified. I called them up and started going off, asking if they knew what a hairnet was and whether or not it had been Sasquatch who made my dinner. They offered me replacement food, to which I expressed concern over what would be shed into my meal this time. I requested a refund, which they denied, despite my offer of returning the uneaten food along with the hairs for DNA testing.