Star Trek Cafe  

I wish I had a forbidden planet
And useful robots to adore
With tricorders to help me scan it
Whenever we stepped out the door.
And the pizza there would self prepare,
With phazers always fully charged,
By spinning themselves up in the air
While being cooked as it enlarged.
Down to the ground they'd soon return
Like manna from Italian gods
Where nary a slice would ever burn
Before landing on their triple pods...
To punctuate the established fact
That saucers keep the flavor intact.