Oh no, we're not hungry

So, for the last four hours, the crew repeatedly said "we're not hungry, we can't face another Italian meal until tomorrow...we'd rather eat raw Italian broccoli".  So, I went downstairs to Il Grottino and picked myself up a delicious pizza and a couple of doppel bocks.  (An amazing side note: it took less than six minutes for me to walk in, order, and walk out with a steaming pie in hand!)  I walk into the apartment, and it's like throwing a Christian in front of the lions.  In seconds, I've had one slice, my son has consumed two, and my wife has polished off the rest...except for a single slice that I've preserved like an antiquity.  So, I make them pay.  Whoever wants the last slice, must eat the raw Italian broccoli.

It didn't work.  They consumed a head of broccoli and then fought like gladiators over the last slice.

Italian broccoli is beautiful, like a monument to broccoli rather than the real thing.