Cardboard crust? CHECK.
Sugary pizza sauce? CHECK.
Screaming kids everywhere? CHECK.
I give Peter Piper Pizza 5 stars because I was once a screaming kid. My parents would bring me here for my birthday and I would bounce with excitement. I ate the pizza and seriously thought to myself, "It doesn't get any better than this." My mom stacked the quarters on the table and I played midget skee-ball until I felt like I tore my rotator cuff. The incessant dingdingdinging of the games grated my parents, but put me into a zen-like trance. Sort of like old women at a casino. Peter Piper Pizza was the stuff dreams were made of.
Now, I think it sucks. But I'll be damned if I don't take my future kids there when I want them to stop bugging me for an hour. Come and find me in a few years. I'll be at the table, a stack of quarters in front of me and a big pitcher of beer in my hand.