Weird dream I had last night

I dreamed there was this new pizza place in Hillsdale. There was no actual business name, just a building and a sign that said "Come in and try our pizza!"
One day I decided I would.
I called ahead and ordered a large pizza with pepperoni and sausage.
When I arrived to pick up my order, that's when the real trouble started. I discovered that the place wasn't really a restaurant but one of those group-homes for the retarded or developmentally-disabled. The staff was busy working with the residents. Apparently some manager thought "Hey, I bet we can bring in a little money on the side if we make pizza for people!" It didn't even look like a restaurant, it did NOT smell like pizza, and no one there seemed to know what I was talking about when I told them I'd called to order pizza.
So I waited and waited.
More than a half hour passed and I was still waiting. Then some other person came in the door who seemed to know me (I think it might have been Cary Elwes, but I'm not sure). He was neither an employee nor a customer; he just decided to walk into my dream for some reason, I guess. He went to ask them what the heck was taking so long with my pizza. After maybe 10 minutes more, he came out with a large pizza box and handed it to me. I looked inside.
It was all wrong.
First, Instead of a large freshly-made pizza, it was just re-heated leftover slices of someone else's pizza.
Second, The slices weren't all there. Instead of twelve, there were nine, sort of haphazardly piled on top of each other in groups of three.
Third, the toppings were all wrong. Instead of pepperoni and sausage, there were six slices with just cheese and diced tomatoes, plus three slices with (I'm not kidding) LEMON MERINGUE.
I immediately said to Cary, "This isn't right."
"What?" He answered, confused.
I showed him the fiasco.
By now I knew there was no way anyone was getting any actual fresh hot pizza today. I was tired of this, and I wanted my money back.
Cary went back to straighten things out.
I couldn't believe what horrible service these people had. They acted like it was a chore to deal with customers, a nuisance to have to listen to what the customer actually wanted. They seemed to wish I would just go away and stop distracting them from their "real" jobs.
After even more time had elapsed, Cary finally came out with the owner, an older matronly woman who was very solemn and bitter. She never apologized about any of the terrible service or any of the mistakes. She just plunked a big briefcase down on the floor and put six dollars in my hand (a five and a one, plus some change).
I seemed to think that was less than what I'd paid, so I repeated that I wanted ALL my money back.
The owner glared at me, silent and resentful.
I never did get any more money back, I never did get the right pizza, and I never found out what was in the briefcase, despite the fact that it was now mine to keep.
(Maybe it was filled with more pizza leftovers contributed by other people)....