The Feast That Changed Everything

It was a time of great hunger. The faithful had gathered, their stomachs empty, their spirits weak, for they had journeyed far to hear the teachings of Cheesus Crust. The sun hung low over the pizzeria-lined hills, casting long shadows as the people murmured among themselves.

There was a problem.

The ovens had gone cold. The dough had been stretched thin. The cheese reserves had dwindled. And when the disciples of Cheesus took stock of their provisions, they found only one solitary slice remaining.

Panic set in. Some suggested cutting the slice into smaller and smaller pieces, though the thought of such injustice was unbearable. Others considered hoarding it for the most devout, but Cheesus saw their greed and shook His head.

He stood among them, calm as ever, the warmth of the holy oven reflected in His eyes.

“Fear not,” He said, raising the slice to the heavens. “For no slice, when shared in faith, shall ever be the last.”

In the beginning, there was dough. And the dough was kneaded, and it was good. But the dough alone was not enough. From the sacred fires of the first wood-burning oven, the crust was born, golden and firm, a vessel of divinity. It was the foundation of the slice, the pillar of the pizza itself.

And yet, there were those who did not understand.

Some, in their arrogance, tore the crust away as if it were a burden. Others cast it aside, untouched, like a forgotten relic. They rejoiced in cheese, indulged in toppings, but forsook the crust—the very structure upon which their blessings rested.

It is said that Cheesus Crust, upon witnessing such reckless desecration, wept marinara tears. And in His sorrow, He descended upon the people and spoke the words that would shape the faith forever:

"Thou shalt not waste the crust, for it is the vessel of my blessings."

This was the First Commandment. The foundation of Crustianity. And yet, even as Cheesus spoke, a great schism was already forming.