

Welcome! Our Little Caesars is located at 886 Ford St Wyandotte, MI 48192. You can always call us at 734-283-4242, too. We also offer no-contact delivery and Pizza Portal® pickup. Both available when you order online or our app. With quality and value as our core belief, Little Caesars represents quality, fun, commitment and family. For over 60 years, we’ve also offered an outstanding value for our customers. Always quality pizza at a great price. Yes, we use only the finest ingredients, including 100% Mozzarella and Muenster cheeses, sauce made from vine-ripened tomatoes and dough made from scratch every day at every location. Remember…Every day is a great day for pizza. Pizza!Pizza!
Carry-out chain featuring chicken wings, signature breadsticks & pizza tossed from housemade dough.
Hours
| Tuesday | 10:30 AM–11 PM |
| Wednesday | 10:30 AM–11 PM |
| Thursday | 10:30 AM–11 PM |
| Friday | 10:30 AM–12 AM |
| Saturday | 10:30 AM–12 AM |
| Sunday | 10:30 AM–11 PM |
| Monday | 10:30 AM–11 PM |
Address and Contact Information
Address: 886 Ford Ave, Wyandotte, MI 48192
Phone: (734) 283-4242
Website: https://littlecaesars.com/en-us/store/1217
Order and Reservations
Order: Order online
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Related Web Results
886 ford st, wyandotte, mi 48192 – Little Caesars® Pizza
Little Caesars® Pizza | Best Value Delivery & Carryout
886 ford st, wyandotte, mi 48192 – Little Caesars® Pizza
Reviews
The tracker, with the confidence of a con artist in a tuxedo, promised my pizza would be ready between 6:45pm and 6:55pm. A charming fairytale. By 7:00pm it was still “cooking.” Cooking where? In a wood-fired oven fueled by ancient oak harvested during a lunar eclipse? Was the dough being emotionally prepared? Was the cheese attending therapy?
Concerned but still clinging to hope, I entered the store.
There were zero pizzas in the portal. Zero. A barren wasteland of stainless steel and shattered expectations. About eight other customers stood scattered around the lobby like survivors of a minor apocalyptic event. Some had reportedly been waiting over an hour. We had that look. The thousand-yard stare of people who once believed in timelines.
No employee approached the counter. Not once. Not a greeting. Not a “we’re behind.” Not even a casual lie to soothe the masses. We were simply left to exist in the fluorescent purgatory, bonded by shared hunger and quiet disbelief.
And the ambiance. The counter was adorned with dried sauce splatters that had clearly put down roots. The empty sauce display was wearing a visible coat of dust thick enough to write your resignation letter in. The walls carried the aesthetic of “we meant to clean that” but perhaps during the next fiscal year.
Time lost structure. I experienced at least three personal growth phases. I reflected on my childhood. I considered learning Italian so I could fly to Naples and retrieve a pizza personally. I watched new customers enter with hope in their eyes and saw that hope leave them within minutes. It was a cycle of innocence and awakening.
Finally, at 7:30pm, nearly 90 minutes after ordering, my pizza was placed into the portal like a reluctant offering to the gods of delayed gratification. I retrieved it gently, as one might handle an artifact excavated from ruins.
I returned home.
The breadsticks were cold. Not just cool. Not mildly disappointing. Cold in the way that suggests they had seen things. Cold in the way that makes you question thermodynamics.
In summary, if you are searching for a transformative endurance experience that blurs the lines between restaurant visit and spiritual trial, this is your arena. If you are seeking hot pizza within a timeframe recognized by modern physics, I encourage you to explore other establishments. Domino’s on Fort Street, for example, appears to operate within this dimension.
Five stars for existential reflection. Zero stars for pizza logistics.
I leave changed.