Pizza House of Horrors


"Cigarette cigarette
Burning up time
Cigarette cigarette
Watch the smoke climb
Cigarette cigarette
Wastin' away
Just like this cigarette"
~Smithereens, "Cigarette"



So we've been talking about going to this pizza place down the street ever since I moved here over 8 months ago and we finally decided to walk down last night. A friend of ours had warned us away but I didn't really know why--it looks sorta cute and retro from the outside. Well we walk in and realize it's not so much retro as... old. Underneath the counter where you place your order there's a sign that says, "Celebrating 35 years!" with thanks to customers from Pooney & Susie. (Not sure we want to know where that nickname came from.)

We look up at the "menu" sign and discover they have a limited selection of toppings, 6 in fact (to be fair that doesn't include cheese or sauce). And you can order a small, medium or large--admittedly, the least expensive in town, but that's the extent of what they offer. The name really says it all: Pizza and House. Beverages can be purchased from the vending machine for 50 cents, but there are no sides of any kind, and come to find out, no plates either--you eat with your hands and the napkins provided at the tables. (The exact opposite of NC restaurant with the reassuring title, Farmhouse Pizza & Plates.)

One thing you can get a lot of there, however, is second-hand smoke. The two parties already seated when we arrived were enjoying their smokes and the older woman working the oven (not sure if it was Susie or Pooney) lit no fewer than five cigarettes during our forty minute stay. According to the health inspectors, she's been doing this for quite some time. It's comforting that she does now walk around to the end of the bar for this activity--in between coughing fits--but she did not wash her hands or wear gloves of any kind as recommended. (Incidentally, if you'd like to choose smoke-free restaurants in the area, this list is helpful.)

We couldn't resist staying a little longer than necessary, if for no reason other than to study the cast of clientele characters. And they did a fairly brisk take-out business (those trying to save their lungs, I suppose) but we honestly have no idea how they've remained viable for 35 years. There were strange ropes attached to the wrought iron railings, which apparently kept them from collapsing. One side of the seating area had booths that resembled those from a pharmacy diner, but there are no other artifacts or decorations in sight.

I got excited when I saw the jukebox around the corner but it contained five pages of mainly country music CDs and the rest was empty--ironically, our punishment for not choosing something was that we got to hear Jewel sing "Who Will Save Your Soul?" every 15 minutes until somebody played George Jones. At that point I turned and asked Tim if we'd died and gone to hell.

I convinced him we needed leave (before we had cancer) but first managed to skim a laminated Roanoke Times article revealing the place had once had a black light room complete with Jimi Hendrix poster and other psychedelic paraphenalia, but people kept stealing the decor (including the lightbulbs). I can understand why they'd scale back a little, but--call me a snob--sometime after year 30 I might have invested in a soda fountain or paper plates.

Posted: Mon - June 19, 2006 at 08:57 PM           |

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