So it starts like this: I was starving. Like, post-apocalyptic hungry. It was midnight, the fridge had one sad slice of cheese, and I wasn’t about to accept that as my destiny. So I did what any sane person would do — I called Tony’s Pizza.

Thing is, Tony’s doesn’t deliver after 11. But that night? A voice picks up like,

“You sure you want this pie?”

And I’m like, “Yeah, I need this pie.”

Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock. But it’s not Tony. It’s me.

Holding the pizza.

I blink. He — I? — nods, hands me the box, and just says,

“Don’t open it until 12:03.”

So obviously I open it at 12:02. Inside isn’t a pizza. It’s a glowing spiral of blue light and some kind of weird device that looks like a TV remote mated with a toaster. And my slice of cheese? Gone.

I press a button because of course I do. Boom — I’m back at 11:59. Same hunger, same fridge. Only this time I remember everything. I try to change it. I make toast. I don’t call Tony. I ignore the knock.

Doesn’t matter. 12:03 hits and I’m back again. Loop. Loop. Loop.

Eventually, I confront me. Other-me. We argue over sauce ratios, time travel ethics, and whether pineapple on pizza should be illegal. Then we team up. Figure out the remote. Break the loop. Eat the damn pizza.

Moral of the story?

Never underestimate the power of midnight cravings.

And never — ever — mess with time-hungry versions of yourself.