Pizza makes people feel things. Something about that intoxicating combination of cheese, sauce, crust, and toppings elicits a kind of devotion that surpasses how we normally feel about our foodstuffs. It's much closer to how we feel about pets, babies, or three-day-weekends. They are all precious, and must be protected at all costs.
But how bad can these sins possibly be? I set out with a pie of my very own to find out. From marshmallows to milk, I tried them all. (Well, except for peas and mayo, because there has to be a line drawn somewhere.)