At the sound of the doorbell, I heaved myself from my seat.

I moved over to the door, ready to go on an angry rant about the time. Who the hell thought two in the morning was a good time to turn up at your house? They could’ve woken me up! They didn’t, but they could’ve, and it’s the thought that counts.

I opened the door and my words died on my lips. A man in a pizza deliveryman’s costume stood there, smoking a cigarette and flanked by two burly men in tracksuits. Behind them, a bright red SUV was parked, its lights off but engine still gently running.

“Uh…hi?”

The pizza man dropped his cigarette. “Show us the money first.”

I glanced around. “Am…am I being robbed?”

The man snorted. “Robbed? Hell no. We’ve got the best prices around.”

I looked at the symbol on the man’s hat and came to a sudden realisation. “You’re from Notmafiosos’ Pizza Parlour!”

“Hell yeah, I am. Now where’s the money?”

“I called you guys six hours ago.” Prank-called them, to be specific, asking for a ridiculous order. Come to think of it, I hadn’t even given them my address.

The pizza man snorted. “What, you thought we were gonna come in broad daylight? And people don’t normally ask for such massive amounts.”

“I only asked for a cheese pizza with no crust.”

“Man, what do you mean ‘only’? It would take years to get through a cheese pizza without the crust. What do you normally buy?”

I rolled my eyes. “A Hawaiian pizza with no cheese or pineapple.”

The pizza man’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, dude. Are you some kind of millionaire?” He turned back to one of the men. “This guy’s a real buyer; go get the product.”

The man nodded and headed back to the SUV. He rooted around in it for a minute before turning the lights on, revealing a myriad of logos for Notmafiosos’ Pizza Parlour that I somehow hadn’t seen before.

He returned soon, clutching a briefcase, which he handed to the pizza man, who laid it on the floor and clicked it open, revealing a pristine pizza box. Slowly and carefully, he stood, and then handed it to me.

“It’s all in there, dude.”

What the hell were these guys on about? I opened the box.

“Guys, I didn’t order a box of flour.”

"No crust?" the man grunted back. "You sure?"

"Yeah!" I was slightly drunk, and I found it amusing. At worst, I'd end up eating hot tomato sauce and cheese slop with a fork while watching cartoons. "And make it snappy! I'm hungry." I'd specifically picked the '30 minutes or less' place, though I'm really not too good at telling time when I'm inebriated.

"You sure that's what you want?"

I hiccuped and confirmed that yes, this is what I wanted. I was giggling, but the pizza place didn't find it as funny as I did.

"All right. Keep an eye out. We'll be dropping it off soon."

I headed back into the living room, which had a perfect view of the street nearby so I could see him coming. I put on Rick and Morty and settled in with another beer. It was anyone's guess as to whether I'd manage to stay awake in the half hour that it would take for them to bring my pie.

---

I jerked awake at the knock on the door, spilling my beer. Damn! There was another knock in rapid succession, and I could see a black SUV waiting in my driveway with the lights on and the engine running. Right. Pizza guy. It all came back to me. I downed what was left of the beer, resolving the clean up the puddle later, and headed to the door.

The pizza guy wasn't the normal acne-ridden scrawny high schooler. Instead, it was a grown man, maybe 25 or so. He wore all black except for a golden belt buckle and a thick gold chain around his neck that looked like it could have been used to safely secure a golden junkyard gate. All it needed was a padlock. And this guy certainly wasn't scrawny: he was built like a linebacker, probably over 250 lbs. He should be guarding a line outside a nightclub, not running pizzas over here at 2 AM.

"I got your... pizza... right here," he said, holding up the thin box. There was a giant bulge in the middle of it, stretching the cardboard. And it certainly didn't smell like pizza at all. I took the box in my hand to open it up... and there was no pizza in it. Just a ziploc bag full of powdered sugar.

"This isn't what I ordered, man." My words slurred a bit, and I had to lean against the doorway for support. "Remember? I wanted a pizza with no crust."

He glared at me, glanced around, and pushed the box lid closed again. "Are you fucking crazy?" he growled. "Don't open this out here!" He shoved me through the doorway and followed me inside. "This is what you ordered. A pizza with no crust." He made air quotes and nodded down at the box when he said it.

I hiccuped again and looked back down at the box in my hands. "Whatever, dude." I was hungry enough to eat a bag of powdered sugar anyway. It didn't sound half bad: maybe I could make some pancakes, though that would risk burning my house down. Which is why I'd decided to order a pizza in the first place.

"So where's the cash?" he asked, filling up the doorway into my kitchen.

"Oh, right." I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet. I had to blink a few times to separate the ones and the fives from the twenty; everything was starting to blur together. Shouldn't have had that last beer. "Here you go!" I held out the $20 toward him; that should about cover it.

He looked down at the bill, and let out a bark of laughter. Even his laugh was mean. I'd have to request the high school kid next time I ordered something from this place. I didn't like this delivery guy. "You've got to be kidding me," he said. From his waistband, he pulled out a pistol and casually waved it in my face.

We both stared at each other for a moment; I had a bit of a hard time staying balanced. "Ugh, fine," I told him. I slapped another 2 dollars into his hand, even though the 20 should have been more than enough. "Here's a little extra for you. But next time, make sure it's a real pizza instead of sugar, man."

He scoffed. "Nice try, pal. That's gonna be $9,000. This," he waved the 20 in my face, "isn't quite gonna cut it."

I gave him a dumbfounded look then glanced down at my wallet. I didn't have that much money in there. Nor in my bank account. Nor would I have that much in years of saving.

"Well," I responded, pulling out my phone and showing him the time, "Good thing that you all have that 30-minutes-or-its-free guarantee, right?"

---

As always, subscribe to /r/Luna_Lovewell for tons more stories!

“Thirty five.”

The kid, whose baseball cap was on backwards like it was the middle of the nineties again, was holding a bundle under his arm, wrapped up in a brown paper bag that was way too small to be a pizza.

“Alright, I get it. I thought I was funny. It wasn't funny. I didn't actually want a block of cheese kid, it was a joke.”

“Thirty five.”

This time he held his hand out, the look on his face speaking volumes about how much he didn't want to deal with this shit right now.

“Alright, alright, but thirty five is a little steep for cheese you know? What kind of cheese costs that much?”

If I was being honest, I didn't buy cheese often enough to know first hand how much a block could cost. The only things in my fridge at that time were some condiments, a few bottles of light beer and leftovers from three weeks ago that I kept convincing myself would be fine to eat whenever I got around to it. Maybe I should have actually bought a pizza tonight instead of being a smart ass and loosing thirty five dollars for a damn block of cheese.

Fishing my wallet out of my back pocket, I held out a fifty and raised a brow at the teen. “You got any change?”

Suddenly clutching the bag more closely now, his eyes narrowed and he shifted his feet, glancing out at the road as though to be sure nobody was there waiting for him.

“No, you idiot, it's thirty five thousand, how new are you at this? Is this a fucking sting?”

“What the hell are you talking about? No cheese costs that much! It was a prank call, I never thought you guys would fill the order!”

“Wh—cheese? Wait, who the fuck places a prank call order for a kilo of coke?!”

His voice was hushed, but he was screaming as much as a person could hope to in the midst of whispering like this was some sort of dr--- What!?

“No, no way. That is not what I ordered. I did not order that. Is that what you have in the bag!? I ordered a cheese pizza with no crust!”

“Yeah!” the kid was hissing now, fingers clenching anxiously against the brown paper. “Exactly, and that's code for a kilo of coke. If I bring this back my boss is going to have my ass!”

Holding my hands up, I took a stride back into the house and shook my head. “Well I don't have that kind of money!”

A police cruiser rolled down the street, and I could only imagine that I looked like as much of a deer in the headlights as I thought I did, because the delivery driver grit his teeth and ground under his breath a stern. “Hand me the fifty bucks.” Operating on auto pilot, my eyes still locked none so subtly on the police car, I held out the hand that the bill was crumpled in and dropped the sweaty thing into his hand.

Shoving the bag into my arms, the kid caught my eye and held it with an intensity I didn't even think possible on that pock ridden face. “Now,” he muttered. “I'll be back for the rest of that money in a week, so you better start getting real creative.”

As he jogged back to the beat up old Honda haphazardly parked at the end of the driveway, I somehow managed to shut the door behind him.

---

“Sir?” Snapped back to the present, I blinked at the travel agent in her smart pantsuit and wondered briefly if she took her job too seriously. “Sir, you said Mexico is where you'd like to book a cruise to? Anything particular you're looking for from your trip?”

“Oh...” Scratching the back of my neck and chuckling under my breath, I shrugged. “You know, tacos and shit. I love Mexican food. You can uh, only eat so much pizza right?”

“Who was that?” Bobby asked.

“Some guy, don’t recognize his voice.” Luca replied.

“What did he order?”

“Cheese pizza no crust.”

The day had been slow. There had been a big bust across town, the rival operation had lost most of their guys. This wasn’t exactly the time for anyone to be ordering anything more than an eight ball.

“He gave you an address and everything?” Bobby asked.

“Yea he placed an order” Luca responded.

“Why the fuck is someone asking for that right now? He either doesn’t know what the fuck is going on or he’s a fuckin cop.”

“He didn’t sound like a cop.”

“Of course he doesn’t sound like a fucking cop! They’re not supposed to sound like cops on the phone. What if we get there and we get busted like that other crew? Fuck that. This doesn’t sound right.”

“Oh you’re gonna tell the boss that we turned down 17 g’s because shit didn’t sound good to you? That’s a top fuckin order. What the fuck are you thinking? We don’t go deliver this shit, the boss finds out we didn’t go through on a deal for a key? We can go and get arrested or we can come back here and get two in the head a piece. What do you want?” Luca said.

Bobby was quiet. He knew Luca was right, they were in a situation where they didn’t have a choice. The boss would kill both of them if they turned down an order like this. “Fuck it. We’ll push it through. But we gotta keep our shit straight, anything don’t look right we split. I’m not going away like those other guys, I’m never going back.” Bobby said. “Don’t be so fuckin nervous. The cops wouldn’t hit two crews in one day. That’s way too much shit for them to handle. We’ve never picked up a tail or anything. They have to grab the street guys before they hit guys like us. They counter surveille, tap phones, all that shit. It’s not happening. We keep it tight and everything will be fine. Let’s hit this really quick, get this work done, and we’ll hit the casino after. Some cards, drinks, rape the buffet.”

“Alright yea sounds good let’s move this shit.”

Luca knew Bobby felt strange about this. Truthfully, he did too. Who the fuck would put an order in for a key with all these bulls running around busting people? It was strange. It didn’t make sense. He could call up and get the ok from the higher ups, but everyone had been on edge lately. Being in the streets gets to you, every move you make becomes of the utmost importance. Guys like Luca calling for approval, asking for vocal confirmation over the phone, for a routine order that would never be asked about, could be the difference between getting caught or not. If anyone suspected that Luca might have flipped, that would be it. They’d probably get Bobby to do it. Luca knew they needed to do this, whatever their feelings. “Bring the pump, we’ll keep it in the trunk. Just in case.”

The car pulled up to the curb across the street. The day was nice and sunny. Sunnier than it had been in a few days. The house looked like a nice middle class home. The kind you’d find it any neighborhood in southern California. The grass had been neglected due to the recent drought, but other than that the one story tile roofed house looked like your average family home. “That doesn’t look like a delivery house.” Said Bobby.

“Jesus fucking Christ get your fucking nut up. Since when the fuck does every house we deliver to look like a fucking trap house that fucking niggs deal out of? Stop being so fucking paranoid.” Said Luca.

“Im just saying it don’t look like a delivery house. I know that they put in work to make these things look legit but god damn that looks like a fucking family house.” It did look like a family home. Right down to the little tykes tricycle Luca could see on the side of the house behind the chain link gate. But what did he know? Some of these Mexicans don’t give a fuck, they get deliveries with kids, family and shit in the house.

“Get the pack out, let’s drop this shit off.” Said Luca.

They got out, walked to the back of the car, popped the trunk, and grabbed the duffle bag with the kilo. As they walked across the street, they could both feel the tension. This house didn’t look like a delivery house. It really didn’t look like a delivery house. This was too perfect. If the cops set this up, they made it too mundane. It wasn’t right. It was too late to turn back now.

Two hard knocks on the door.

There was no answer for a moment. Then the door opened. A tall, grey haired white man opened the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Yea we’re delivering you pizza. Your order?” Luca said.

The man looked both of them over, puzzled.

“You guys are the pizza delivery guys?”

“YES, we are.” Luca responded.

“Where’s the pizza? Your uniforms? I’m sorry this seems a little strange.”

Luca and Bobby looked at each other.

“Sir we have your order, if we could just come inside and drop it off and collect our payment we’ll be on our way.” Luca pressingly stated.

The mans face immediately went from puzzled to defensive.

“Listen I don’t know who you are but I don’t want this pizza. Please leave thank you.”

As the man went to shut the door Bobby put his foot down to stop it from shutting.

“Look I don’t know if you’re worried about our stuff or if this is some kind security, but we gotta drop this off. Let’s just do this and be done, no problems. Sound good?”

The man was now fully alarmed. His tone and demeanor had become hostile.

“Get off of my fucking property! I don’t know who the fuck you guys are but if you don’t leave I’m calling the police! Get out of here!” the man yelled.

The man pushed the door with great force, slamming it closed. Luca and Bobby could hear him shuffling next to the door, then yell at his family to go into the bedroom.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here this motherfucker is fucked up!” said bobby.

Luca knew they should leave, but this guy had placed this order. Who knows what the fuck was going on with him? People in this kind of business did all kinds of shit to vet people. Maybe this was his way of making sure they were legit? Either way he didn’t like it, and he wasn’t going to leave without trying to see this through.

“Calm the fuck down. This guy might be fucking with us.”

“Fuck this Luca let’s GO.”

Luca looked back out onto the street and scanned the neighborhood. There wasn’t anyone out, no one had taken any notice to the confrontation. He felt nervous, but he knew this wasn’t fucked yet. “No fucking around” He said to bobby.

Both men reached around to their backs and pulled out pistols. Luca knocked on the window next to the door with the side of the gun. Tapping the glass loudly.

“Open the fucking door. No more fucking around let’s do this.”

The door didn’t open.

“Luca this shit is all wrong we need to leav –“

It’s amazing how fast your body reacts. How it thinks faster than you can. Bobby hadn’t even finished his sentence before he found himself jerking violently to his left. He could barely even process seeing Luca fly back with blood spraying downward through his peripherals.

The shotgun blast had come from through the window. The motherfucker saw the gun.

It was so loud, so unexpected. He knew they should have left.

Bobby ran. He just ran. Luca was fucked. He had to be. The way he just fell. Like a fucking rag doll. Dead meat. He could see the car. Almost there.

Two more cracks out of the shotgun.

It's funny how life can fuck you over. This guy just wanted to order a pizza. Bobby just wanted to make some money.

What do you do when you are 23 and jobless?

You eat pizza, smoke pot and you watch TV. At least, that's what I did. Or rather, to put it in the proper tense, that's what I have been doing for the last six months.

If you don't believe me, take a look at this bunch of menus. Now, the pizza place sends over a new menu leaflet every time I order(such a waste of paper, I know) and I order (at least) twice a day - breakfast and dinner - how thick do you think the wad should have gotten?

I'll tell you - THIS thick.

Truth is, I don't really need a job. My family sends me a nice little chunk of change every week. So much so, that I have a tab going on with my dealer. Every month, he and I settle it, over a stiff one and some - you guessed it - pizza. Them munchies be bad, yo!

This latest batch of nugs he sent over is something different. I feel like something different.

Don't get me wrong, I still want pizza. My love for pizza can only be rivalled by the TMNT. Or Kumar and Harold's love for Whitecastle burgers. I just want different pizza, is all.

Rummaging around the old menus, I find one that says "Nonna's Delivery". Hmm, looks promising. Hey look, they even have a QR code for instant dial! Well, that decides it!

tap tap tap tap

"Hello? Nonna's Delivery?"

"Yes, how may we be of service?"

Is that an Italian accent I hear? Oooh, genyoooiiiinnnne! Jackpot!

"How fresh are your pizzas?"

There was a slight pause before the voice on the other end answered.

"Fresher than your mother on her wedding night."

Wait, what?

"Excuse me?!"

"What do you want?"

Maybe I misheard. Maybe this weird pot is making me hear weird things...

"Uhh, I'd like a cheese pizza with no crust."

There was another pause. It felt very pregnant.

"Anything else?"

"A can of coke would be nice."

This time, the pause seemed pregnant. And angry. Definitely angry. Like hormonal pregnant woman angry. (Don't ask me how I know that, okay? I just know...) I wish I had a girlfriend. I would read all her hints so hard, right now. It was the pot. Definitely the pot. The pot was speaking for - and through - me. Man, this pot was the shit!! I could-

"You got a weird sense of humor man..."

Shit, was I saying all of that aloud? I began to apologize but the genuinely i-talian voice cut me off, before I could even begin.

"We don't have your number on file. Will you be paying by cash, card or would you like to start a new tab?"

A pizza place with a tab? Lord love a duck! This was manna from heaven! Hold on a second...

"I would love to start a tab but don't you guys need to verify identity before you can set up a delivery or something like that?"

Another one of those pregnant pauses. I wonder, what he (she?) will deliver this time?

"Just give us your address and our guy will verify it when he comes to deliver your order."

Huh, that's strange. But hey, if it works for them, who am I to question it, eh?

I gave them my address and left instructions to the building security to let the delivery guy up. Too many thefts in the building these days - the building super had instituted a temporary policy till the thieves were caught. Ah well, good guys gotta follow some of the rules!

---

The doorbell rang and I peeked through the tiny slot in the door. "Pizza Delivery!" yelled the guy, when he presumably saw the eye-slot darken.

He was quite well-built for a pizza delivery guy. Probably had worked out in Syl Stallone's gym every miserable day of his life. The loose tee did nothing to hide his bulging biceps and the pizza box looked weirdly shaped in his calloused hands.

I opened the door and stretched out my hand.

"Aren't you gonna let me in?" he asked, somewhat confused. At the same time, he pulled the pizza back slightly out of my reach

His confusion confused me further, and I could only reply back with a monosyllabic, "Huh?!"

"If you are gonna start a tab, I'll have to verify your address. Also, the pizza won't pass through this narrow slot here..."

He said the word 'pizza' quite distastefully. Like it was an insult. He also didn't look i-talian, so I assumed he was a little miffed at having to work for someone whose ancestry and loyalties were not entirely aligned with his own.

Still he had a point. That pizza box looked way too large to fit in through the narrowly opened door. Did I forget to tell them to make it a thin-crust? Ah, yes I did.

"Hold on a sec," I said, closing the door, unlatching it and opening the door. He strode in and deposited the pizza on the table and started looking around.

"You live alone here?"

"Yeah," I said uncertainly. The general aura he exuded seemed like that of a cop investigating a double homicide. Or a serial killer. He was looking at me like I was that serial killer and he had me by the balls.

I shoved my arms under my armpit and said, "Well, are you satisfied? Is my address verified? I'd like to eat my pizza in peace now, please?"

He gave me a look that could have chilled the ice-king in the North of Westeros from a thousand miles away. "Kid, how old are you? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? You don't have to do this you know? You didn't choose this life - it was chosen for you. You can still make something of your life. I can help you if you will help me..."

O-k-a-a-a-a-a-y. Things had gone from zero to weird in no time flat. He began with creepy and was currently holding steady at WTF-levels.

"Dude, I know I am already high as a fucking kite but I want whatever it is that you have been smoking! You are on a wild trip!"

He glared at me and I could swear I heard him blow a gasket or something inside his brain. He swiftly rotated on the balls of his heels and produced a thin, sharp switch-blade out of nowhere. Sharply slicing the tape that held the pizza box closed, he flipped it open, shoved the box at my face and screamed.

"WHY? ISN'T A KILO OF COCAINE ENOUGH, YOU POMPOUS BRAT?!"

I think, I must have fainted right then and there.

---

A few drops of something cool trickled down my forehead, and made their way into my eyes where they tried to seep in through my closed eyelids. Ah, it had been a dream, I thought.

I smiled and opened my eyes and saw him leaning over me with a glass of water in his hand.

It wasn't a dream.

He stepped back and sat on the chair across from me, never taking his eyes off me even for a second. My eyes tracked him all the way into his seat and my brain registered the first coherent thought since my eyes had opened.

I was probably dead and probably in hell. The next few moments would probably confirm that.

I gingerly sat up. I hadn't broken any bones or sprained anything. Something had cushioned my landing. The soft rug, perhaps. Or perhaps, he had. I wasn't sure. His eyes watched me carefully as I sat upright. He sat incredibly still, not moving, his hands steady on the armrest of the chair. The cold, steel barrel of a nine millimeter briefly glinted and made its presence known.

If I wasn't dead yet, I probably would be soon. Again, the next few moments would probably confirm that.

He saw me glance at the gun in his hands and brought it up to his lap. "Safety's off," he said calmly, "No sudden movements. And don't try anything stupid."

I reviewed the situation. I had accidentally ordered a kilo of cocaine and, in doing so, probably blown an entire drug-smuggling operation wide open. Now, a drug smuggler was sitting in my home, barely three feet across from me, with a potential death warrant in his hands. Oh, and how could I forget? THERE WAS A KILO-OF-COCAINE-THAT-SHOULD-HAVE-BEEN-A-PIZZA ON THE TABLE FOUR FEET AWAY FROM ME!

Oh yeah, I was well and truly dead.

(To Be Continued)

"Hi, I'd like to place an order for delivery."

The four college-aged men assorted in my living room giggled in the background, stoned, as I began to speak to the pizzeria employee on the other end of the line. About 45 minutes prior, Jake, a slightly overweight and jovial man, had hazily and through bleary eyes suggested we order a pizza to eat from the new pizza place that had opened up. He, myself, and our three fellow engineering students, Rob, Tamer, and Samuel were celebrating the end of our senior year at university and were staying in town for a few extra days before returning home to our respective families, and looking for jobs.

We as a collective were a healthy few beers deep, and there was an in depth, well debated discussion about what sort of pizza we should order. Tamer couldn't have pepperoni because of his religion. Robert thought pineapple was an atrocity when situated on a pie. Jake didn't care either way as long as there was enough to go around. Samuel enthusiastically jumped from his seated position, wide-eyed with mischief in his ear-to-ear grin.

"Guys, their slogan is 'We will serve you what you ask for'" he said, "Lets ask them for a cheese pizza... but with no crust."

We looked at Samuel for a moment in silent incredulity, and then our smiles turned to match his. It was an instance of intoxicated ingenious-- one of those ideas spurred by a precise ratio of devil-may-care attitude, alcohol, and misguided interpretation.

We had no idea how misguided we exactly were. Mostly.

Fast forward 35 minutes. I'm on the phone with the pizzeria, stifling my laughter as my friends pass around a generously packed, glass water pipe.

The boy answering the phone speaks with a happy accommodation in his voice, "Sure! Can I get a name, address, and phone number for your order?"

I rattle off my information and the boy chimes back asking "Now what can I get for ya today?"

As even and deadpan as I can manage I say, "I'd like to get a cheese pizza but with no crust."

My friends erupt into hysterics as the boy stammers over the phone, his voice cracking, "I-I'm sorry, but did you say you'd like to get a cheese pizza with no crust?"

Understanding his bewilderment, and happy with his reaction I said, "Yes, that is correct."

The boy, now sounding a bit disconcerted, says back to me "I'm sorry sir, I'm going to have to transfer you to my manager for that order."

The line clicks and quickly transitions to some soft piano music. I begin to feel a little guilty about our prank, thinking I'm about to be reamed out by the owner of the shop for making ridiculous calls when they're trying to conduct business. I look back to my cohorts, cajoling and carrying on with one another about the absurdity of our act.

"Guys!" I interrupt them from their festivity, "They're connecting me to a manager. I think we may have pissed them off with that order."

Their faces slacken with no good retort coming from their mouths except for Samuel, who with the impression of a British jester at court said, "They ought not tell good people, like ourselves, that we can get whatever we ask if we can't get it-- it's bad marketing is what it is, innit?"

Samuel was always like this, reckless, capricious to a fault, and always on the lookout for the next thrill or joke.

The piano music stopped and a new voice echoed across the line, gruff and hoarse. "Hello" the voice spat, "I understand you want a cheese pizza with no crust."

I replied sheepishly, "Yes... I did order that, but it's not a problem if you aren't able to do that."

The voice on the end of the phone let out a sputter of chuckle and said "Nah it ain't no problem we can do that, but when do you want it and where do you want to pick it up?"

"Oh, Okay!" Surprised, I continued saying "I already gave our address to the first guy I talked to, and we want it as soon as possible. Are you all busy tonight?"

I heard the soft pulling of a cigar on the other end, and then the voice said "for an order like this, you're our top priority. See you in 20."

The line clicked as the man disconnected the call and I hung up the phone. The look of confusion on my face must have been quite apparent because as I did this Tamer spoke up, coughing a plume of blue-grey smoke as he did so.

"hmmph hmmph so... what just hack hack happened?"

"Well" I said, "Our crustless pizza should be here in twenty minutes and no one seems too upset about the order. In fact, that manager seems pretty fucking happy about it."

"It was probably a slow night" asserted Samuel, "That order probably spiced things up for them."

Rob, contributing his only statement since they began smoking, "Yeah that's probably it."

I was befuddled, but I wasn't complaining. We had carried out our act of debauchery, got a kick out of our stupidity without angering anyone, and our pizza was on the way. With these things in mind, I sat down on the sofa and started into the conversation my buddies were having while I was on the phone. It was proving to be a grand evening. Everyone was in high spirits with the stress of the semester behind us and the exciting prospects of summer shining in our immediate future. I couldn't help but notice one thing though. Samuel, typically engaged and lively as the most vivacious of characters had grown sullen in the armchair he perched upon. He seemed anxious, a trait I had ever seen in him before, and more than once I saw him quickly glance at the door and then hurriedly avert his gaze back to our circle of friends as if he was anticipating something and trying not to let anyone else on. I figured the weed had gotten to him.

22 minutes pass and I hear a loud, deliberate knocking on the door. At this, Samuel flips out of his chair and runs upstairs, closing his door behind him with force. I begin to fathom what might be wrong with him, but then my at this point very singular thoughts refocus on a different task. Getting up to pay for the pizza.

I open the door and a man draped in a black leather coat covering a plain white t-shirt, dark jeans, and with slick greased-back hair enters the house hastily without invitation and without pizza. Instead, the man has with him a duffle bag which he begins unzipping immediately.

The man barked, "Shut the damn door!"

Feeling very frightened, the effects of the Cannabis clouding my headspace, I complied without hesitation, thoughts reeling through my mind so fast I couldn't begin to concentrate on one them long enough to bring sense to my bearing.

The man in black asked, "You wanted a cheese pizza with no crust, right?"

We nodded our heads in dumbfounded fear as Samuel came springing down the stairs holding a large manilla envelope and saying "Oh yes sir, we certainly did!"

Samuel handed the man the envelope with a flourish and inquired, "Now where is the pizza?"

The man inserted the envelope into his duffle bag, and when his hands emerged he was holding a duct-taped package roughly the size of a Merriam Webster dictionary, giving the parcel to Samuel. Samuel thanked the man, and as quickly as the ominous figure had appeared, he was out the door.

For a moment, the silence in the room hung like a heavy shroud over all of us, representative of the incomprehensible event that had just transpired. Then Samuel announced to the group, "Gentleman, what I have here for your pleasure is a gift truly suited for a celebration!"

He pulled out a short knife seemingly out of nowhere and drove it straight into the square he held. Upon tearing the knife out, a dusty trail of white powder followed it, and Samuel stuck his nose to the pore that he had just produced, snorting intently. He came back up, eyes wild and with boundless energy behind them.

Understanding settling over me I stated with a matter of fact air, "That is cocaine."

Samuel exploded in his exclamation, "YYYYYYEEEEEESSSSSSS!!!!" he said, slamming the brick onto the coffee table in front of us all.

The brick sat there, unmolested for what seemed like an infinity and then Jake, with sad pining in his voice, asked "So are we actually not getting pizza?"

Total side note, but there was a place like this where I grew up. It served nothing but cheese or pepperoni pizza, and it stayed open super late. There was no sign outside indicating what it even was. It literally just had a neon OPEN sign in a dusty window. Inside, it was lit by a single edison bulb. This was back in 2008, before edison bulbs were hip. Cash only, of course.

Long story short, it looked like what everyone assumed it to be--a drug front. Of course, we had no way of proving it.

Anyway, I was back in town during the summer of my freshman year of college. Some friends and I got hammered and stopped in around midnight for a pie. They were like $5.

Rather shady looking guy comes in and orders a meatball sub or something clearly not on the menu. I'm seated facing the cashier. He eyeballs the guy, and in a rather loud voice says, "That'll be $50."

Customer drops a $50 on the counter without blinking. The cashier looks at the bill, looks at the guy and then at me. Then the guy turns around and looks at me. My friends and I got up and basically ran out. They turned the "OPEN" sign off right after we left.

Place was incredibly shady, but for $5 you couldn't really beat it.

It wasn't the usual delivery guy that I opened the door to. The man infront of me had a hood pulled up tight to mask his face in shadow.

"Pizza delivery. You uh, you wanna start a tab?" The man asked whilst shifting his weight between his legs.

"A tab?" I enquired.

"Ye, you're obviously a—sniff—you know, a connected guy, so you don't need to pay right now if ya don't want."

He shoved the box into my arms and walked away.

"We'll be in touch." He yelled back at me as he got into his dull white delivery van.

Customer service had clearly improved at the Three Moustachios. I took the steaming box into my lounge and turned on the tv.

Oh for Christ's sake. Crust on the pizza. The pranker has become the prankee.

I was disappointed that they had ignored my request. They had seemed genuinely interested in my order when I had placed it.

I took a slice of the pepperoni goodness and bit into it. It wasnt bad. I quickly devoured it all the way up to the crust.

Oh my god, they are really taking the piss. Stuffed crust! I hate stuffed crust. Stuffed with powdered mozzarella by the look of it! Well fuck it, I'm not going to let them win.

After a couple of bites of the mozzarella powdered crust, I actually started to develop a taste for it. It wasn't long until I was ignoring the pizza and eating only the deliciously moreish crust.

---

"Where the hell have you been?" I yelled at the hooded man as I shook him vigorously.

"I'm — I'm sorry man. You only ordered 10 minutes ago."

I wiped the mozzarella powder from around my mouth and stared at him. He look petrified.

"Where. The. Fuck. Are they. Hand them over!"

The man handed 5 more crustless pizzas over to me. But it wasnt enough! I pushed him to the floor and ran into his van. I devoured another twenty crusts before I felt the sweet release of sleep begin to wash over me.

God, I loved pizza.

It had already been an hour, but Frank could still hardly contain himself. Sure, it was cliché, but he still got a laugh from calling for a crustless pizza with cheese. This time, he was calling Loera's pizza Kingdom, that new sketchy place set up from Mexico. What sort of Mexican makes cheese pizza anyway? He startled up at the heavy thump that came from his door. Opening it, a man a full head taller than Frank and twice as wide stood before him, wearing a torn and grimy delivery outfit clearly to small for him. "You the one who ordered the crustless cheese pizza?" he asked in a deep broken English language. Frank had not expected this. "yeah, I am. Now give me the pizza." Frank felt he wouldn't be saying that to the threatening man at his doorstep if he hadn't gone through all the vodka. "Show me the dough first," said the man, pulling the pizza box away from Frank's grasping hands. "You guys sell pizza; you should have way more dough than I could ever give you." "We needed a lot of dough to get this pizza ready, so I won't give you nothing without you showing me some bread, dough and cheddar." "Is this some new Abbot and Costello skit? Look buddy, if you are asking for money, tell me what I owe you. No, in fact, you were over 30 minutes late, so I think I get it for free. " His slurred speech was interrupted by the gun pressed against his forehead. "Hombre, I don't know where you come from, but there is no way I am leaving without that dough. So bring me that 20 grand so you won't die today." Frank had had it with this man. "I see, you are trying to prank me back. Well I will let you know that there is no way I am spending that much on a crustless cheese pizza. I can find places to buy it for less than 5 bucks!" The man's eyes narrowed. "My boss would love to hear this I think. If you tell him, you might get your pizza free." Frank shrugged and followed the man to the black van below. "These guys clearly know nothing about pizza" he thought to himself.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay for the pie, brother?"

Chad looked hopeful, but my girlfriend's netflix wasn't going to watch itself.

"No, I think I better go. Enjoy it, man. I'll see you on tuesday."

The light cut through my blinds and settled on my eyelids as the sun came up tuesday morning. I stretched under the covers as I slowly opened my eyes and found myself face to face with the absurdly wide-eyed face of chad. Stunned, I was momentarily unable to speak. Chad, however, had that covered.

"BRIAN. I'M SERIOUS. YOU HAVE TO TRY THIS PIZZA POWDER STUFF. IT'S FUCKING AMAZING."

I used to work for the phone company, so it wasn't that hard to go over to my neighbor's house and hook into his landline. I mean who even has one these days? Guy is one of those hip 20 something's who landed the big job, and thinks it means he can send his dog to do it's business in the neighbor's yard, well this prank would show him.

"Big Al's Pizza, You know what you want?"

"One extra large pepperoni, and fifteen large cheese pizza's with no crust."

"Damn guy, you sure you want that?"

"Boss said it's what he wanted, I'm just calling it in for him."

"Ah, I get ya"

I rattled off the address like it was habit after remembering that I needed to give my neighbor's address, then I tided up a bit, outside dropping his dog's present to me that morning on the ground.

---

I started to wonder if they had called to double check or something when the Pizza didn't show up in the first hour, but chalked it up to a busy night. Probably a football game on or something.

I was just turning off my lights to go to sleep for the night when I heard the first car pull up outside. I peeked out my blinds to see a pair of pizza trucks pull up to my neighbor's house.

"Wish I had made popcorn" I said to myself and pulled a chair up to the window, before peeking out again.

It seemed they knew each other, or else the joke was having the desired effect as my neighbor was arguing with the Pizza guy and his buddy. I looked at the trucks again and noticed that both had drivers as well. I wasn't sure what to think of that, I mean clearly they didn't need four people to deliver pizza, heck they shouldn't even need two trucks.

---

I had to duck away for a moment because one of the guys looked my way, but when I looked back it seemed everything had been sorted out. I guess the rich kid decided to just buy the Pizza's instead of the hassle of fighting with them some more as I saw the two from the trucks getting out and going in following the two at the door.

---

I started to regret my joke as I noticed it was past ten at night, and they had been playing some horror game while throwing their party judging by the loud music, occasional louder screams, and random gunshots.

Maybe tomorrow I'd just throw his dog's morning gift to me at his window or something. Not like there was that much I had planned for a boring Saturday at least.

"Hey, hey, hey, ladies and gentlemen, who wants pizza?" I shouted to the myriad of guests who were milling around my pool. They responded with what sounded like a raucous cry of approval, which was a good enough sign for me.

I strolled through the back door of my mansion and scrabbled through my local takeaway menus, wearing nothing but some damp floral swimming trunks and an untied red silk kimono. After some half-assed searching, an open bottle of Belvedere still in my left hand (I was hammered to the point of barely walking), I found one that I was looking for, grabbed the phone, and called the number.

"Hey, is that Corleone's?" I slurred drunkenly into the phone.

"Yes it is. What can I get you? Are you a previous customer?" the woman at the other end of the line replied. Something struck me as a little odd - She didn't sound like the kind of person who would work at a pizza shop. A little too high-class... But what the fuck did I know, I already mentioned that I was probably a few shots away from accidentally calling some hooker 'Mom'.

"Uh, five large pepperoni, Uh, five plain cheese, and..." I chuckled as some silly little middle-school prank popped into my head. "One large cheese pizza without the crust!" I coolly asked, barely containing my boyish giggles.

She sounded taken aback. "Are you sure about that last part, sir?" she asked, her voice loaded with excitement.

I gave a slight chuckle. "Why, of course!" I answered brightly.

About half an hour later, I heard the sound of my doorbell echoing through the entrance hall, to where I was, in a deckchair next to my pool.

As politely as I could, I coaxed the pretty girl off my knee and started to stand up.

"Sorry Candie, we'll have to continue that conversation after I get that pizza!" I shouted as I jogged inside. I grabbed my wallet on my way to the entry hall, then opened the huge mahogany door to see who was calling.

He didn't really look like your average pizza guy. He wore the regular pizza guy uniform, but the car that was parked in my drive was a huge, black, brand new SUV. The guy was built like a brick shithouse too. He proffered the large stack of pizza boxes to me with a professional smile.

"Here's what you ordered sir." he started brightly, before lowering his voice until it was barely above a whisper. "That will be five thousand, one hundred and fifty dollars."

I almost choked. "What the fuck, how does it cost that much?" I asked with a mixture of anger and surprise.

The man gave me a slightly terse smile. I could tell that he was slightly annoyed but was still being patient with me.

"Well sir, it's a hundred and fifty bucks for this stuff," he explained, gesturing to the ten pizza boxes at the bottom of the pile, "And five grand for this stuff!" he finished, lowering the stack of pizza boxes so I could see the contents of the one at the top of the pile, and, after quickly checking his surroundings, opening the box to reveal a huge ziplock bag of white powder. He immediately saw the look of confusion in my face. "Check it if you want," he added, with a showman's smile.

Hiding behind the cardboard lid, I opened the bag and lifted it to my nose. Despite the delicious smell of the pizza below it confusing my nostrils, there was no mistaking that smell. I'd been to enough wild parties to know that stuff was cocaine, pretty pure too. I zipped the bag closed, closed the box, and gave the man a grin. "You happy?" he politely enquired.

"Oh, I'm happy!" I chuckled. "Hold on one sec!" I shouted, before running into the next room quickly and grabbing a roll of hundred dollar bills.

He waited patiently for me to return. I counted the cost of the goods into his hand, then slapped another Benjamin into his hand for good measure. "A tip for excellent service!" I added with a grin.

Cash in hand, he walked back to his SUV, and gave me a little wave.

"Enjoy your pizza, sir!" he chuckled as he walked away.

I carefully carried the stack of boxes back to the pool.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" I shouted. "The party has officially arrived!"

"This is Pizza Shack. How can we take your order?"

"Yeah man, this Pizza Shack?"

"Yeah, this is, what you need bro?"

"Lemme' get a cheese pizza with no crust."

"Did you say a cheese pizza with no crust?"

"Yeah man. Can you do that?"

"Yo, Rosa?? Hang on my manager should talk to you."

"The manager? What are you.... Hello?"

"Yeah, so you want a cheese pizza with no crust?"

"Uh huh, can you do that?"

"Sure about that? You're not a regular customer, are you??"

"Not really?"

"Oh well, it'll cost you extra.... Delivery or pickup?"

---

It had been three hours since Zeke had phoned that pizza joint. He'd never been in there, but he'd always driven past the past on his way to his job. It seemed like they were always busy on weekdays. But they closed early, so he found it impossible to order most nights. But after looking up the restaurant online, he found out they took orders until midnight on the weekends.

After hitting up his weed guy for a quarter and getting lost in some Dark Souls 3, he'd gotten' the munchies around 11:30. But at this point, he'd actually lost interest in the food. Hell he'd smoked so much since then, he gotten' past the 'I need nutrients phase' and realized he was much more at home in the 'I can hear my hair growing' zone.

He jolted alive when he heard the heavy knocking at the front door.

"Who is it?" Zeke said as he glanced at the clock.

"Pizza Shack. You made a order?" The voice responded from the walkway. Zeke realized it was like 2:30 in the morning. He quickly opened the back window, and turned the box fan on full speed to clear out the smell. He opened the front door a hair and peered out through the gap; just in case his neighbors had gotten wise and called the cops on him for smoking. Instead he saw the gaze of some bored teenager in a purple shirt holding a pizza box.

"Pizza Shack." The teen repeated again solemnly. He sniffed absently as Zeke unlocked the door.

"So what do I owe you?" Zeke said awkwardly as he tried to look as sober as possible. He watched the young man huff yet again for a moment as he handed him the box.

"34 racks, bro." The kid answered flatly as he glanced around cautiously. He watched Zeke fan the money he fished from his pocket. Zeke counted the bills before handing them to the kid. Instead of pocketing the money, he glared at him with palpable disgust.

"You okay there, uh" Zeke paused as he noticed his ID, "Umberto?"

"Are you fucking with me right now?" Umberto said as he snorted again.

"What, you said 34 bucks." Zeke started.

"I said 34 racks." Umberto snarked, "Like 34K? Grand? Stacks? Do you understand what I'm saying right now? Are you retarded?"

"What kind of pizza costs 34,000 dollars?" Zeke said in anger.

"What are you, a goddamn narc?" Umberto muttered as he backed away slightly. Zeke noticed him begin to reach into his waistband under his shirt and felt a bizarre sense of dread at what may be going on.

"Motherfucker, how do I know you aren't a narc?" Zeke asked savagely, "I don't know you."

"Look," Umberto said as he leaned in, "dumb fuck, if you don't give me the fucking money, we are going to have a big problem here."

"I don't have that kind of money just lying around!" Zeke said as Umberto suddenly pushed him into his own home. "What the fuck is this?!"

"Look you're Zeke right??" Umberto questioned quietly as he locked the door, "981 Spellman Road? You ordered a fucking cheese pizza with no crust. Right??" He watched as Zeke nodded, "Well, that's a big order to just call in with from nowhere you fucking dunce. Do you know how long it took our plug to get that situated?"

"The hell is this big ass bag of powdered sugar doing in the box?" Zeke stared, "You planning on baking the pizza here? Are you the fuckin' muffin man in this bitch?"

"I may as well be. I just got this product all the way over to you, and you're going to stiff me on the bill!" Umberto said as he dialed the phone.

"I, wait.... Plug? Product?" Zeke said as he watched Umberto dial the phone. Suddenly, it all clicked.

"Oh my God." Zeke said as he quickly set the box on the table, "Oh my God."

"Oh my God is right." Umberto agreed, "The Sandman isn't breaking my legs over this deal. Sorry bro, I don't know you, but I don't like the idea of a Colombian Necktie."

"Hold on; Colombian Necktie?" Zeke said as he wrestled the phone away from him. Umberto quickly drew a small handgun from his front pocket as Zeke quickly shied away from the barrel with his arms.

"Look man, I just wanted a cheese pizza. That's all I wanted." Zeke begged.

"You're serious?" Umberto paused as he nervously held the gun.

"I already got drugs! The fuck do I need more for?!" Zeke explained quickly, "I don't even do coke!"

"Really now?" Umberto paused for a moment.

"I just smoke weed, I'm not trying to ruin my life." Zeke said as he evaded the barrel of the pistol again.

"Well what am I supposed to do?" Umberto asked quickly.

"Take the stuff back? I don't know." Zeke said as he continued blowing his high. The phone began ringing in his hand, and Umberto stared at it nervously.

"I need to answer that." He explained.

"Why?" Zeke asked bitterly.

"Do you want to die?" Umberto questioned, "Because you will if you don't let me talk to them." Zeke quickly fumbled the phone into Umberto's hands. He watched him answer the call.

"Yeah. The deal's off.... No, we apologize for wasting your time.... I don't think he knows what he did.... So what would you.... Oh.... Well, I tell you what we'll hold it for you.... Okay? Great, see you soon."

Zeke watched him hang up and quickly gather the pizza box full of coke.

"You got real lucky." Umberto mentioned as he handed the money back to him. "They wanted me to shoot you in the face. I don't kill people, that's not my thing."

"So are we good?" Zeke wondered as he watched him finish packing. He put his hands up as Umberto suddenly put the gun in his face.

"You didn't see a thing." Umberto mentioned angrily.

"I sure didn't." Zeke nodded quickly. Umberto pocketed the gun, before taking a joint Zeke left on the table for the road.

"Hey." Zeke reached faintly, "Not cool."

"I need this more than you." Umberto said as he quickly slammed the door before driving away. Zeke stood in the same spot for about 15 minutes after he left. Eventually, he found his way back to the couch, and fired up some more of the weed he'd stashed away. Pausing the game for the fourth time, he picked up the phone again.

"Chinese food it is....." He thought nervously.

DING DONG

omg pizzas here

i open the door to find a young hispanic male who wasn't in uniform that looked very anxious.

uh, how much for the pizza? I asked, breaking the awkward silence

he looks as me like I just told him the biggest joke in his life.

keeping eye contact with me, he slowly says "cheese pizza, no crust, we've got it, you know the price"

this was the most serious delivery person i've seen in my life, and I pull out my wallet. again, I ask, "so how much do I owe you"

his eyes widen and he glances over my shoulders. then immediately bolts back to his car.

Bewildered, I shut the door and call the pizza place back. nobody picks up.

Frustrated and confused, I retreat to my room and go back to watching narcos on Netflix.

About 15 minutes in, I hear a "pop" noise downstairs and glass breaking. And a lot more followed. It was the sound of projectiles flying through the air and landing in my house. I realized it was bullets and I quickly climb under my bed, covering my head.

The shooting stopped. Footsteps creaked on my hardwood floors below. "Vamanos! Donde esta el gringo?"

I quickly reach for the baseball bat propped up next to my bed.

The men can be heard walking up the stairs. They check my bathroom, the guest room, then they reach my room at the end of the hall.

My heart is pounding but I keep cool.

Slowly, the men open the door into my room, one after another.

With all my strength, I land the bat on the second guy. The first guy swings around as I cock the baseball bat.

Shots fire out, and I hear my ears ringing. I look down and I see two men lying in their own blood. Gingerly, I step over them and I grab my cellphone.

Check your corners, recanting the words of Jim Gordon in the Dark Knight Rises.

I bolt out of the back door to my neighbors.

The wail of half a dozen cop cars could be heard as they surrounded my house. Paramedics came out with two handcuffed men.

I was taken in for questioning as apparently I had caught members of two of the most prolific drug operation in town. They questioned my purchase, but they tested me for drugs and saw that my background was clean.

They let me go.

As I was walking out of the door, I breathed a sigh of relief. My competition was going to be taken down slowly, all thanks to the local police department.

[removed]

As a former 4chan lurker, my blood pressure raised with every word I read until "kilo of cocaine". Phew. For a minute there, I was already imagining Chris Hanson popping his face around the corner.

Shady, as a word, is often overlooked. Arguably undervalued, even. One word holding such diverse meanings. Deep meaning. Meaning densely concentrated.

In its first sense, it encapsulates there being an oasis of shadow, respite from the sun. Freedom from a star’s inexorable, oppressive heat. There was too much oppression in the world today, and certainly, CERTAINLY, too much heat.

Shady was cool, shady was an oasis, shady was calm glades, and tranquility. There weren’t enough calm glades in the world today, and certainly, not enough tranquility.

Doug loved tranquility. And by extension, he loved calm. And oases, and cool, and so he loved ‘shady’.

But this was not the sense of the word that sprang into Doug’s mind when he opened the door, but rather the other shady. The shady of furtive glances and shoulder checks. The shady of being suspect and raising hackles. The shady that inhabits the motion, and even the stillness of a person who ought not to be doing what you have happened upon them doing.

The pizza delivery man, was shady.

How shady? That was a good question. Doug considered man at the door.

This guy…is shady. AS. FUCK., Doug thought.

Doug paused at the peephole, briefly returning to the Stranger Danger commercials he had viewed as a child. Were they even Stranger Danger? There were rabbits…skateboarding? Or did they sell the chocolate milk powder? Man that stuff was delicious. Could you still buy – STRANGERS. Doug remembered the issue at hand, and how the rabbits had warned him not to open the door for suspicious (or shady, when adjusted for vernacular inflation) people, but – PIZZA. Doug loved pizza.

Doug opened the door.

"Hi!"

"PIZZA."

"Yeah, I ordere-"

"DELIVERY."

"Hahaaaa, yes, Pizza Co! Pizza delivery. Alright alright, well, let’s see the goods!"

Later, when Doug debriefed himself on the evening’s events, it would occur to him that this had been a poor choice of words.

The man opened the box. Doug looked in the box.

Doug looked at the man. The man looked at Doug.

Doug looked in the box. Doug looked at the man.

Doug reached out a hand and ever so slowly closed the box.

The man waited.

Doug waited also. For what, he wasn’t entirely sure. Doug was puzzled.

“Che-“

“Cheese pizza,” the man said flatly, “NO CRUST.”

“No crust…” Doug echoed quietly.

Doug reached out and opened the box to glance at the offending contents again, then quickly returned the lid to the seemingly much more sensible closed position.

“So…is that co-“ Doug began before the man cut him off.

“It’s a cheese pizza,” the man repeated, “No. CRUST.” The flatness in his voice was now faintly edged.

“Uh-huh…”

Doug leaned against the door frame, his arms assuming the classic Thinker’s pose. He had found this position helpful in the past. Apparently other people had as well. It had been good enough to immortalize in a statue, right? Doug hoped it would help him navigate the current quandary.

“So I called Pizza Co….”

The man waited.

“And ordered a cheese pizza with no crust…”

And waited.

“And you brought me a large quantity of cocaine…”

The man briefly appeared as though he had wanted to say something, but thought better of it.

And waited.

Doug resumed thinking. The man waited.

Doug tapped a finger against his lip pensively. The man shifted his feet slightly.

After a while Doug began to muse. The man began to continue waiting.

It wasn’t until Doug began to ponder the man felt the need to take action.

“Payment.” He said.

“Right, right…of course…” Doug nodded sagely to the man, but in his mind he was at the door of inconceivably large room, screaming over the typewriter cacophony at all the monkey Dougs operating them to give him something, ANYTHING.

“And how much does…this much co-“ Doug began drawling in what he felt was a confident comfortable manner.

“PIZZA.” The man corrected.

“OK,” Doug rolled his eyes, “…‘PIZZA’, how much does it usually go for?”

“Currently market value for this much no-crust cheese pizza is…$150,000.”

Unbeknownst to Doug, several neutrinos at that moment found themselves boxed out by the closing of his anal sphincter.

“Hmm?” Doug’s face rapidly cycled through an array of expressions which would have been painful were it not for the general numbness which had overcome him. “Is that so?”

“…Yeah.” The man said.

Well, thought Doug. This…is quite the pickle…

Suddenly he became aware of an idea coalescing in the back of his mind. A monkey Doug had produced something of merit and began to run forward, waving the sheet above its head, howling with joy. It briefly disappeared under a scrum of other monkey Dougs all vying for the glory of presenting the idea as their own. Doug shrieked at them to knock it off before wading in to retrieve the idea from the melee himself. Yes! This was it! This was perfect!

On the door step Doug straightened, released himself from his thinking pose, certain now in his course.

“Ah, well you see, I’d love to pay $150,000, I really would.” Doug shook his head despondently, the picture of sympathetic impotence.

“But you see…” he said as he pointed at the man’s car, and decals upon it, “…it took you 34 minutes to get here.”

The delivery man turned slowly to regard the car in the driveway.

30 minutes, or it’s FREE! That’s the J’s Legitimate Pizza Coalition GUARANTEE~!

When the man eventually turned back, Doug couldn’t have said why, but on some level he detected that the motions, and even the stillness of the shady man were now squarely in the realm of ‘vexed’.

---

Doug’s wife Beth arrived home some time later to find her husband sitting in silence at the dinner table across from a man she was unfamiliar with.

“Dooooug?” She said, hanging up her keys as she entered the room. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, honey! You’re home!” Doug said brightly, hopping up as though he had been sitting on a hot coal, “How was your day?”

The man at the table stared at her impassively. There was a pizza box in front of him.

“It was fine Doug, hot…who is this?”

“Oh, right, Beth, this is Arthur, whom I have just met, and he has a very exciting business proposal for us.” Doug was acting downright weird.

“A business proposal?” Beth asked.

“Yes, and I think we should take him up on his offer.”

“DOUG. WHAT is going on?”

“Hmm, how do I put this?” Doug paused briefly. He rested his hands on her shoulders, and looked Beth directly in her eyes. “That box is full of cocaine aaand we’re drug dealers now.”

The television screen flashed before my eyes partially illuminating the darkness of my apartment living room, looking around I came to the realization that I no longer knew what show was on. Glancing to my left the clock on the wall read 9:13pm, it had been four hours since I last smoked a joint which would explain why I was no longer enthralled by cartoons. Shutting of the TV I rocked myself forward and off the couch, shaking my limbs loose and rolling my neck I decided on smoking the remaining roach before settling down for bed. As I made my way toward the kitchen table a sudden pounding broke the calm dark silence of my apartment.

Curiously I looked to the door wondering who I knew that would be stopping by so late on a Monday, when a second louder round of banging shook the door. Feeling a mix of irritation and cautious paranoia I approached the front door as whoever stood on the other side let loose with a third round. Feeling rushed I opened the door without checking the peephole.

On the other side I was met with a stocky round faced man in a dark hoodie and track pants, I immediately noticed the expression carved into his face showing barely suppressed anger. I felt my face pale as the previously loud man stood stock still and silently affixed me with a red hot stare. I had no idea what was happening but it wasn’t shaping out in my favor. After several more moments the man finally broke through the silence “Who the fuck are you?”, despite the still cemented look on his face the words came without so much as a hint of aggression. I instantly went from worried to confused, “I..wha-...wait, who are you?”. Shattering his angry grimace the man partially mirrored my own look of confusion, for a moment he looked about to speak, but then stopped himself. Further wrinkling his brow he reached into his pocket and pulled out a torn piece of paper and looked from it to my apartment number, then back up at me.

I saw the look of menace suddenly reappear as he walked forward pushing me back into my apartment, letting himself in, and closing the door behind him. “Who do you think you’re fucking with prick?” he growled, all the while stepping to within inches of me backed against my own living room wall. “I know you called Antonin’s Pizza, you can’t lie to me, and I know this is 2052 Sun plaza, apartment 5c.” His eyes narrowed to beady slits buried in his fat round cheeks, glaring as if daring me to dispute what he said. But it was true, that is my address and I did call to Antonin’s earlier but just as a joke. I had called and demanded a cheese pizza with no crust, amidst my drug induced high I had started giggling hysterically almost immediately and hung up before I even heard them ask for an address. Could they really be so upset that they sent someone to my house to intimidate me? Apparently satisfied with my nonresponse the man’s gaze relaxed just slightly, he glanced around taking note of my dark and sparse apartment before turning back to me and pointing to a chair “Go, sit down”. As if to punctuate the command he pulled from the folds of his hoodie a dull black pistol, holding it at his side he stared at me, apparently waiting for me to move first.

Suddenly in a panic it dawned on me that in a matter of moments this situation had gotten away from me. If this seemingly dangerous and unstable man wanted to hurt me he could do so very easily after having let himself into my home, part of me wanted to resist, to stay glued to where I was, but the idea that he might point the gun at me if I did was enough to make the decision for me. Never taking my eyes off him I slowly backed over to the chair he had indicated and sat down. “Look” I began to plead, “I don’t know-“ suddenly he cut me off “You know exactly why I’m here! If you treat me like some kind of idiot one more time this conversation is going to end a lot faster than you want it to” raising his voice above a growl but keeping it below a yell. “Who told you that you could order a cheese pizza with no crust?” although it was a question it sounded more like an accusation, partially due to the fact that while I sat he remained standing a few feet away between me and the door. “Look I’m sorry, it was just a joke, I didn’t mean to upset any-“ a blinding flash of white hot pain exploded across the side of my head as he leapt forward with surprising speed and grace for such a large man, striking me with the barrel of his gun. His face filled my view before I could process what had happened “I said, no..more..BULLSHIT, you think I’m fucking with you? That you can just jerk me and my boss around?” he spat before once again assuming his position just out of reach. In that moment I felt that it was important I respond quickly before things got any worse, but my mind was a blank. How did this happen? Just a couple minutes ago everything was fine and now this, I had no idea what this guy was talking about. I slowly started shaking my head as my brain began to catch up with the situation. “Look” I said more firmly, “I don’t know what your problem is, I have no idea who you or who the owner is, it was just a prank phone call”. Despite the throbbing in my skull I stared back at him with a look of what I hoped was firm resolve. For a moment there was silence and I let myself think that perhaps I had gotten through to him and he had realized he was making a mistake. Then without a word, he slowly raised his gun, and pointed it at my head. “You have five seconds to give me the snitches' name”. I wasted two seconds in a mental blank as I felt an unexplained warm liquid spreading down my pant leg, then without warning the damn broke and the words couldn’t tumble out fast enough “I...nobody! Please! I don’t know what you’re talking about, nobody told me to call it was just a prank, I was high! I thought it was funny, please do not shoot me! I’ll never call again! I swear! I didn't mean to offend anyone...I..I just thought it would be funny” he looked down at me with cold dark eyes set in a hot red face “Time’s up”.

..So can I pay for that with card?

"No" said the man on the phone "we only accept cash"

I begrudgingly said "Ok" I really dont want to drive to an ATM but I could grab some soda maybe fill up on gas I said to myself. "So how much will it be?"

"It will be $1,500 dollars" the man on the phone said

"I think Ill pass and just order from Pizza Hut, but good luck on selling those $1500 pizzas!"

Note: adult language

>be me, 25 NEET weeaboo

>mom kicked me out of the house a month ago

>feelsbadman.jpg

>been crashing at my friend Ross' house, not that bad, guy has bretty good dank

>4:20pm, wake and bake... start to get the munchies, buddy is going to be home soon. Figure I can order a pizza, he can pay for it when it arrives

>After I dial I realize I have no idea what he likes. Guy is a millionaire, he prolly doesn't even eat pizza...

>suddenly, /mischief/ strikes

>Get the bright idea to order some ridiculous pretentious bullshit

>pizza place finally answers (they have notoriously awful service, it's run by a bunch of meathead Chads but it's the only place in SF with good meat lover's - all these vegans. The Italian sausage tastes like none other.)

>Order the meat lover's, trying to think of something pretentious...

>I'm baked out of my mind, so best I can come up with is telling them to make a pizza with no crust (lel)

>Guy taking the order doesn't even question it, just says "understood" and hangs up

> Decide to go take a shower since I smell like ass

> happily shampooing, hear a bang in the front hallway. Roomie must have had a drink on the way home...

>I hear some shouting, guy is probably calling me to help him up.

>tough shit, I'm in the shower

> Get some shampoo in my eyes, start to wash it out, when I open them I'm surrounded by dudes in black SWAT gear pointing guns at me

And that's the story of how I accidentally got the Silk Road shut down by calling an FBI honeypot.

This will get buried but we used to call it a "three lieter coke" as in a Coca Cola. No one would ever order a three lieter coke because that denomination doesn't exist here in the US.

The sound jolted me back to reality, sure enough the phone was ringing. I glance over at the clock, ‘only 20 more minutes of this shitty night shift’ I whisper under my breath as I pick up the phone.

“Hello welcome to Pizza Palace, may I take your order?”

“Yeah give me-one minuto papi” A man with a Cuban-accented voice responds.

Why in Christ’s name do people not think of the order before calling? Would make this job a whole lot-fucking easier.

“You still there?” the man says.

“Uh, yes sir, what would you like?”

“Eh, let me get a large cheese, with no crus- pendejos callense por favor estoy ordenando el producto!- I’m sorry, a large cheese with no crust.”

I’m used to shit like this, fucking Hispanics can’t get their order together. I don’t have a clue what he said, but as long as I can finish this last order I’m done for the night.

“What’s the address sir?”

“Just have Manny, deliver it, he knows the address.”

“I’m sorry sir, we need you to give us the address…”

“…….”

“Would that be all sir? May I interest you in some Coke-Co.” Dial tone. Jesus Christ it’s the 80’s you’d think people would have a sense of decency.

“Manny! Some dip shit ordered a large cheese with no crust-What’s the address he said you knew!“

“155 Para Grand Ln, it’s down by Malibu ave!” Manny responded.

I snapped back to reality when I saw the fucking Mansion coming up on Grand. I slowly pulled up to the drive way, to the intercom box and stopped in front of the gate.

“No crust?” the voice asked.

“Yes, from Pizza Palace.”

The gate opened and I drove up, got out the car. Paused for a second to think of a good reason not to just ditch this place and quit on Monday. Found the slightest ounce of dignity and knocked on the front door.

I hadn’t even removed my hand from the door when the door flew open and I was dragged in by the collar on my uniform. The contrast from the darkness of the night and the brightness of the inside of the room blinded me for a second.

“This isn’t fucking Manny”

I heard say coming from the large brown skinned, suit wearing behemoth in front me. This dude must have been 7’2 and easily 400 pounds of straight brown cotton and slicked back hair.

“He’s fine, just get the “pizza”, give him the money and get him out” Another voice coming from behind Andre’ the Giant said. Out from behind stepped out someone who could only be described as a mixture of your typical Cuban Immigrant and Oswald Cobblepot. It was the Hispanic Penguin himself.

The bigger guy took the pizza box from me, opened the box, and had an audible chuckle once he found out what was inside. I literally could not breathe yet find out what was so funny about a large cheese pizza with no crust.

“Alright kid, funny joke but where’s the product?” I pointed to the opened pizza box in confusion.

Almost on command two beautiful blondes came out from a room and grabbed a slice each and began to eat. That was when I noticed the other women and about 3 other guys in the living room I was in. Almost all the women were topless and the men wearing identical black shirts and slacks. I also saw what was the biggest array of white bricks laying on the coffee table, along with two hand guns and a knife.

Andre the Giant grabs me again and pushes me unto the wall along the door, this time lifting me up about two feet in the air.

“I’ll ask you again kid, where’s the product? I didn’t order no maldito puto to get my pizza. I specifically asked for a large with no crust”

“I’m sorry sir, but we don’t offer the pluto special on Fridays.” Which managed to escape my mouth as I gasped for air.

“Oh so we have a funny one huh? Well I wonder if our little comedian here will be as funny with Regina in his mouth” He reaches into suit pocket and pulls out a handgun. For a second I thought Regina was one of the blonde babes. That thought turned cold in my mouth when Andre had in a matter of seconds shoved half the gun in my mouth.

The next moment there was a loud bang from behind me. Few seconds right before I hit the floor, the world seemed to move in slow motion. I saw a barrage of bouncing fake boobs, Oswald Cobblepot running away from my direction, Police boots and lots of yelling.

I was awoken by one of the cops.

“Hey son, wake up!”

“huh…what happened?”

I was outside by my pizza car, confused and dazed as all hell. Last thing I remember seeing was Andre’s face as he was being forced into the police car.

I could only think of how bad of a joke the pluto joke was, god damn my life.

It was almost closing time on Tuesday that had crawled by. I was sweeping up the dining room when the phone rang. I groaned and slumped over, "D'Angelo's, this is Tony, what can I get you?"

I hear a snicker on the other side of the line and the worst fake nerd voice, perhaps ever, "Um yes, *snicker* I'd like to order a cheese lovers pizza with no crust." I jot the order down on a note pad, "no crust, you sure?" The voice comes back across the hand set, "yes, no crust. I need it delivered to 123 4th Avenue, A.S.A.P.," the nasal voice and the fake sounding address pissed me off even more than the late order. "We'll get it right out, cash only," and I hang up the phone, "Yo, boss! We gotta big one, came in late. Cheese lovers, no crust!" I hear a splutter and ragged cough from the back as my boss, Ricky, chokes on his water, "That much? This late?! It's gotta be a setup, where's it going?"

"123 4th Avenue, sounded fake to me but I 'unno, all the runners went home like about an hour ago, want me to call back and cancel it?" I offered up hopefully as he walks to the front of house, "It's late, you gotta pregnant girlfriend to get to before your wife finds out and I hear a bar calling my name... We can do it in the morning, it's a Tuesday..."

"Tony..." Ricky says slowly as he slaps the side of my neck, "We're grown ass men, we can do a run! It'll get some excitement in our bones, we're getting old and boring!" I grinned and shook my head to hide my disappointment but deep down, I knew he was right. Most days we would move maybe half a key all day to some regulars, sell some actual pies to some broke college age kids, pay off a couple crooked detectives and close up shop. And we were THIS close to the final step when the damn call came in.

So off Ricky goes, whistling some old song as he pulls a triple beam from under the counter top of the kitchen. "Did he say cheese or cheese lovers?" he asks as he crouches down and sets a brick of coke on the counter much you're average person would a bag of flower and rummages around for a bag of b12. "Lovers, apparently he's throwing an expensive ass party," I stare out the window, it had started to drizzle. "Well no need for all this, quit staring a hole in my windows before you have to buy me a new one, let's go!" Ricky had let himself get excited, it had been awhile since he had been on the streets actually moving product, he had long moved up from the role of dough boy. I personally liked to work the phones and the cash register, it allowed me to make use of my favorite two words, "plausible deniability." See, as long as I kept my nose clean, literally and figuratively, took orders, and never touched the product, I could try and get off on a lighter sentence. Yet here I was, hopping in my bosses car with enough yay to send us both to jail for a long time.

"123 4th Avenue, right?" Ricky asks as the Mustang growls to life and he begins punching in the address. "You got it, if it's even a..." I trailed off as the GPS announced that it was calculating the root and that we should get there in fifteen minutes, "Guess it's legit." And away we go, weaving through traffic until we pull up outside the small, surprisingly normal looking house. "Don't look like a millionaire, or a trap house," Ricky says in a hushed tone as he scans the street, "Go ring the bell!"

*knock knock*

"Pizza delivery!" I shuffle on my feet a little as the breeze blows cold rain drops against me, I reach up to knock again but before my hand meets the door, it swings inward to reveal a little old lady. "Can I help you, deary?" her voice sends me back to my childhood and my own grandma baking cookies for me after school. "I think I have the wrong address, ma'am, I'm sorry to disturb you," I turn on my heels to wall away when she interrupts, "No crust cheese lovers? My grandson is such a joker, I heard him on the phone earlier. I guess he didn't think you deliver," she pauses to laugh at her own joke. "Come in out of the rain and I'll go get him."

I look back at the car parked on the street and shrug, Ricky motions for me to follow grandma inside.

 

"Oh, be a dear and take off your shoes, won't you? I don't wanna mess up my carpet," the old lady asks sweetly as she disappears down a hallway, "Jonny! You have a pizza to pay for!"

I glance around the living room, the place looks legit enough, there's pictures of grand kids plastered across the walls and mantel, plastic cover on the couch and an "oriental" rug under the coffee table, so I slide out of my shoes and take a quick seat on the edge of the couch cushion. "He'll be right up, sweetie, make sure he gives you a tip!" She says cheerfully and disappears back down the hall, to bed I guess.

"Uh... Who are you?"

Are you fucking kidding me. A kid in his late teens. A child. Barely old enough to have hair on his nuts. Probably still in high school, maybe a freshman in college. There's no way. "Tony, from D'Angelo's. You ordered a pizza about twenty minutes ago. You wanna go outside to do this?" The kid is practically shaking in his socks, "Look, man, it was just a prank call, I didn't think you would actually make a pizza with no crust..." A prank?! And he was dumb enough to use his real address? Dammit, Ricky is not gonna like this. "Put your shoes on, kid, we're taking a quick walk, you're gonna have to explain this to someone else."

So I drag the kid outside in his pajamas, I see Ricky's face go blank from the moment I step out. "Who the fuck is this?! What's your name kid?" Ricky is staring straight into this kids soul. "Jonny... Jonny Hughes," the kid stammers nervously, "Look, it was just a prank like I told the other guy, I'm sorry for wasting your time, I can pay you for the pizza?" Ricky glances at me, I shrug again and then he looks at the kid. I've seen that look before, we're about to have another employee at the pizzeria. "Jonny, you didn't order a pizza. Look, take a seat in the car. Tony, you'll have to stand in the rain, my condolences," I brush it off as the kid nervously opens the door. "You're not gonna kill me or anything are you? I didn't mean to do anything wrong, I was just bored... I'm really..." Ricky held up a hand to stop the boys rambling apology and reaches into the back for the bird. "This," Ricky shakes the brick in Jonny's face before dropping it in his lap, "is what you ordered. A kilo of pure white. About twenty-five thousand on the street level. And you owe me exactly that much." Ricky holds up another hand as the kid tries to start talking again, "You very well may not have that much money but that's how much you owe me. We can do this one of two ways, both will leave you no worse for wear. Option one, you can take the brick on credit, do whatever you gotta do, bring me my thirty thousand next week. Five thousand for interest, naturally." Jonny looks about as white as the brick of coke in his lap, he swallows hard, "Naturally." Ricky fits a small grin across his lips, "OR option two, you come work for me. You work until you pay off the debt. I pay hourly, for each delivery, and I pay well so it won't take you as long as you're thinking and naturally the harder you work, the quicker you're done. At the end of our agreement, we can work out the details if you wish to continue your employment."

You can see the kid mulling this over in his head, trying to hide his nerves from either of us, "Is there any other option?" Surprise smacks Ricky right across the face, "You got balls, kid, I'll give you that. Yeah, there's another option. Tony here gets a bat out of the trunk and goes back inside your sweet little grandma's house, he busts some stuff up, steals her jewelry, maybe he knocks her around a little, maybe he doesn't, he's had a long day so he probably would. But what really is important is you have to watch all of this, and when we're done we will tell her exactly why we were there. Oh, and you'll still owe me money."

Jonny used to be white, now he was translucent, "I don't know anything about selling drugs... I never hung out with those kinds of people... No offense meant, you seem like a really honest guy." Ricky gave a dry laugh and I shook my head slowly, "We try to keep it wrapped up tight at the pizzeria, you may not even have to ever handle product, we do have some legitimate business, but you will have to work. Understood? I'll see you tomorrow, 4 o'clock. Tony, get the kid a shirt out of the back, we gotta roll."

The trunk pops open, the kid gets out of the car, pouring thanks on Ricky like a waterfall, "You'll do fine, kid, just don't do anything stupid," he replies nonchalantly. "Stay on his good side," I warn Jonny as I lift the trunk, "I'll swing by tomorrow around 3:30 to pick you up, be ready." I hand him a large t-shirt, "D'Angelo's Pizzeria," it says in big print across the front, and on the back it has our phone number and a short slogan, "Chicken wings so good your lips go numb."

 

 

Literally my first time ever doing this, we'll see how I did!

Act 1: For the past 20 hours I have been thinking about the reason my wife abandoned me after 14 years of marriage, still not convincing. The same song has been playing ever since, reminding me of all my failures. Been smoking non-stop about two packs and counting.. my stomach is grunting so I decide to order something to eat. The brochure of this new pizza place under the door mat caught my attention, and so it was decided.. I don't want to bother thinking about what to fill my intestines with anyway. -Four black girls' pizza place, how may I help you? -Yes can I have one cheese pizza with no crust please? -Sure, anything else? -No that'll be it. -Alright, what's your address? I figured some dull comedy would be good. Didn't think it'd go through -4720 Plank St. apartment no. 4. -Okay, be there in an hour. -Great, thanks.

Act 2: Hangs up -Hey Lenny, one kilo. 4720 Plank St. Take that kid with ya maybe he'll learn a couple of things about the job. -Ask Rick i'm busy over here. -Ya want the boss to learn about your little secret? -Jeez, alright I'm goin'.

Act 3: -Hey kid, go warm up the car I'll be right there. Thirty minutes later

Slams door -Fuckin' Joey. -Where are we going? -We got an order to deliver. You're gonna learn how shit gets done, kid.

Act 4: Hard knocking on the door -Comin'! Knocking continues -Alright, I'm coming! Jesus!

Opens door -You ordered the cheese pizza with no crust? -You don't look like pizza delivery guys.. -Funny guy, can we come in? -S-sure?

Act 5: -Nice place ya got there. -Thanks? Lenny grabs a beer from the fridge and sits sluggishly on the couch -So, got the cash? -Yeah, how much is it? -Is this your first time ordering a cheese pizza with no crust? -Actually I ordered it as a joke.. -Ha? So you're fuckin' with us? -What? No. I just wanted to have a pizza.. -Cut the bullshit already, will ya? -What bullshit? -Don't waste my time, kid. Ya want the coke or not? -What coke?! -Fuckin' Jesus on a stick. THE FUCKIN' COKE YA ORDERED! Did ya think we really sell fucking cheese pizza with no crust?! -Holy shit, you guys are drug dealers?! -Hallelujah, about fuckin' time. I grab the phone -Okay, I don't want any coke or any fucking pizza, get out of here or I will call the cops on you! -I told ya this guy was funny, eh, kid? Ha Ha.

Act 6: He got up and pulled a gun out of his pants, pointed it towards me and said "Last chance, buddy. Where's my money?". I couldn't utter any words in the midst of my fright. I could see he didn't like that. The young man that was with him showed clear signs of panic, guess he was new to the crew. Perhaps he was his nephew or something. I mustered up some courage and said "I don't..". The answering machine interrupted me; "You have one new message" Then a beep came out and I heard my wife's voice. -I'm sorry for what happened earlier today, can we talk about it over dinner tomorrow night? I was so psyched and happy. But the only problem was I had a gun pointed at my face. -Real fuckin' romantic, too bad ya won't be able to make it. I shivered. The last thing I recall is seeing his finger pulling against the trigger. Then it went dark. /u/absamm

I was really hungry yesterday. I ordered a cheese pizza with no crust because I don't like the crust. When the pizza guy came, he gave me 1 kilogram of cocaine instead. I was really surprised because that was not what I ordered. I called the police and they busted this pizza-drug-selling place. The End.

I am glad planet giraffe has pizza. These fuck wad 6 leggers we're the most boring spiritualists and their culture predominated. Expectable as we were refugees but nonetheless annoying not to have a good strip-club or spy-tech outlet. But the Earth-Food Restaurant was spotted on a lucky glance as the slideway went 2145mph to 0 for my stop. For some goddamn stupid reason I brought the glump-cat in my backpack who was talking a blue streak inside my faux-canvas back-sling. Fortunately it-Samantha, as she has been trained to call herself by whatever practical joke assault team probably led by a vics relative or something had sent to me, Samantha was too muffled to distract or bother me. I should ask the Earth-Fooders about it if I remember. Poking in that wound of Samantha's death was a psychological attack. As an assassin (totally out of work) I just killed people; I did not fuck with their minds. Well different strokes for different folks. I slowed don on my Earth board, manufactured by a six-legger giraffe company for Earthlings, well i guess two and at times four of the legs are 7 fingered hands. I wanted cheeze pizza so bad. "Cheese, no crusts with fish bits- ya got it".
The pizza passed through the door. "You are the man calling from the unregistered geo?" "I am" I just get back on the board and went less then a mile at about 160mph, just taking in the view- as the board-field had debris killer, then just got hungry and stopped sitting by the purple and teal ruffage overlooking red waters. I opened and the cheese pizza small looked ok- kinda lumpy. Well beggars and choosers and all.. I take out that steaming gleaming slice of lumpy fishy pizza and and bite down. Some of the cheese is kind of tough and I bite down deeper. And got powder, a lot of powder. I thought this was from scratch not dehydrated poorly- fuckers. Wait. Wait HOLY SHIT BZAM! THAT'S COCAINE WELL IT WAS ON THE HOUSE! SHIT! SHIT! I licked some more. OK. OK. um. You could be getting followed. I barked at my apparently hacked (considering the god phone practical joke) decision matrix Burt. "PUT A CLOAK ON ME BURT!" Shit I said that too loud. The giraffes did not, uh, surveil like Earth. But that didn't mean their peach wet eyeballs weren't tracking. "Alright Burt we gotta get supplies"

"Hey I'd like a cheese pizza with no crust for delivery."

"Umm, Just give me oonnee second. HEY JOE, SOME GUY ON THE LINE WANTS NO CRUST Alright here talk to Joe"

"Hey this is Joe, so you want a crustless cheese pizza?"

"Heh, um yeah."

"Alright what size, any topping or sides with that?"

"Uhmmm... A Large. Nope I think I'm good."

"Alright that will run you 77."

"WHAT? 77? AMERICAN DOLLARS?!?"

"Yeah, you gotta problem with that?"

"Hell yeah man I may as well get a pizza with crust for that much, hell I should get at least 10 toppings too."

"Well do you want it or not bub?"

"Fuckit nevermind" click "Yo Jerry they said a crustless pie is 77 dollars"

"Oh SHIT. Nick you didn't seriously call and ask for that. I WAS FUCKING WITH YOU."

"Oh."

The End.

The door opened revealing three men. Soon after handing over his order it became obvious the man had made a mistake. The men could tell by the look in his eye. After exchanging a few quick glances the three men simultaneously pulled out MP5's and blew him the fuck away. The men walked off, and left him crumpled on the ground, dead.

The End

With more booze than blood running through his veins, John dialled up Fabio’s.

“Hello, Fabio’s Pizza Parlour, what can I getcha?”

“Ooh, I’ll have a cheese, with, uuuuuh, no crusts please”

“That’ll be £15, can I just confirm that?”

“Cheese, no crusts.”

“OK, we’ll be there in 5.” (Beep)

Even though he was thoroughly inebriated, John thought that was odd. Five minutes? For a pizza? And the guy just took his order, like that? And why didn’t he ask for the address?

He looked up. His future flatmates were attempting to microwave textbooks at this point, so he was doing better on average with the drink. Cards against humanity lay abandoned on the table, a lonely shot glass sighing next to them. They had finally finished first year exams, and John was just glad he’d never have to see the fuckers who he shared with in halls.

He stumbled outside, cash-in-hand, to collect the pizza. The bloke took his money, handed the box over and left without a word. Rather quickly actually. It was rather windy you see.

He opened the box.

A gust flung some of the white powder up John’s right nostril. He was immediately lifted, high up above the ground, above the tedium of uni life. He’d only had a tiny tad. But it was enough.

“GUYS, I’VE GOT SOME COKE!”

Girls prised the textbooks out of the oven, making lines. Others used knives, chocolate bars, and playing cards. After a few moments, there wasn’t much left.

Its effects were instant and apparent.

John pushed a one of the prettier girls up against the wall, feeling his way up her pencil skirt. Almost gladly, she reciprocated, hands running, scrambling through his greasy hair. Meanwhile, Harry thought now was a great time to bring in Gibson SG and schoolboy shirt and tie. Now was the time to be Angus Young. If anyone was still in their right minds, they might have seen it as ironic.

“Go on maaaan, show us your moves!”

Highway to Hell rang through campus. Campus security heard, but they really couldn’t be arsed. That kind of thing is above their paygrade.

One group decided to help John with the washing up. Plates were flung left, right and centre, bowls ricocheted off the walls and what little was left of the alcohol met the floor. Eventually, couples (I use this term in the loosest way possible) carried their trysts to the bedrooms, it didn’t really matter who. Indeed, many shared.

No-one noticed the thick red fluid painting the kitchen floor.

John came. They had only met this evening, and didn’t even recognise each other the next day. She left early, to avoid the clear up. It didn’t aid her that much when he was arrested the next day, for manslaughter. After all, she wasn’t much of a witness. Indeed, were any of them?

(n.b. this is my first short story. I hardly ever write. This just looked interesting and I saw it on the front page)

I would have gripped the pizza and tried getting outa there with my life and quick then have a little personal snow storm party in my room only me and my dog Blaize are invited

Sorry not a story or anything, but at a pizza joint in my area you could order "a pizza with lettuce" and get an eight ball. Dont even want to know what other toppings could get you... Actually i do want to know now that i thought of it haha

around where i live there is a pizza place, and one time i heard a guy said order a 'grilled cheese, hold the cheese'. he was immediately handed a brown paper bag, paid some cash, and left. this is a non-fiction story.

"If there's a crust I'm not giving you a tip," I stated in as bitter of a voice as I could muster immediately as I pulled the front door open, "and I mean it."

"Uhhh," stumbled the delivery driver, who had enough tattoos on his face and neck to make even a callous giant like me nervous, as he tried to come up with a response. I wondered to myself how he'd even managed to find a job at all. "You have fun with that, buddy. Be seein' ya real soon." He finally answered, albeit cryptically and with an genuine impatience that rivaled my joking. He shoved the pizza box into my hands and turned around.

"H-hey! What? Don't you want your money?" I exclaimed, after a moment of confusion, to the tattoo'd delivery boy as he was walking back to his car.

He quickly turned back around and sneered as me, making a cutting motion across his neck with his middle and pointer finger and grabbing at the crotch-region of his shin-length jean shorts, "You better shut that fuckin' mouth right now if ya know what's good for ya, old man." He nodded at me with a disturbing confidence. "..Be seein' you real soon."

I shut the door gently, verbally beaten into submission by a man half my size. Terror coursing through my veins and beating in my heart, I proceeded to open the pizza box. I stared is disbelief at the gallon-sized bag housing white powder in place of where a pizza should have been. I'm not the brightest man in the world, and I hadn't had much experience with drugs, but I know for sure that this was a shit-ton of coke. My face went red and it started to become difficult to breathe, but before I collapsed to the floor the doorbell rang. A burst of adrenaline released itself into my body and for a moment all my fears dissipated. I was prepared for war.

I turned around and SWUNG the door open hard enough to put a hole through my drywall. Glaring and grunting like an animal, I assumed a crouching horse battle stance and challenged my opponent. It was at that moment I realized the person at my front door wasn't the former "delivery boy," but a black man itching himself with white lips. "Isthisthefive'o'clockfreecrackgiveaway?!" he shouted, looking past my in search of the goods.

The man walked up to the pizza shop. The front looked like shit. When he reached for the handle he noticed, it didn't have one. Damn he thought. Did he dial a bad place?

The door squealed open, load enough so you didn't need one of those door chimes. The place was covered in fur, shit this must be some sort of health code violation. There were even plastic toys lying around. Did someone keep their kids here? A shadowy figure in a trench coat and large hat covering their face rose up behind the counter.

"Where's the dough?" a gruffly whined the hatted man.

"I uhh, I didn't ask for any on my pizza" cracked the man, thinking a joke might help break the ice.

"Not funny little man. You got the money or not?"

"Oh -OH! Of course I do. Is my pizza ready?"

"Trevor! Get the damn cheeze pizza with no crust over here!"

A faint scramble of taps, like someone tapdancing on the ceramic floor could be heard in the back. A yelp of sorts followed, and a skittering that grew louder. Suddenly a pizza box edged itself up and over onto the counter.

"Here's your pizza. Where's the money?"

The man reached over to check the pizza but a gloved hand stopped him on the counter. "You gotta show your money before we let you see the goods."

"Oh sure n-no problem heh!" The man reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. As he started to flip through the bills the hatted man reached out and snatched the wallet away. "Hey what are you doing?!"

"Oh hoho, I thought something was off." The door behind the man clicked shut. You didn't come here just to order a cheese with no crust did you...you undercover Shiba!" In a flash the trenchcoat and hat flew off with a burst of fur. The first corgi splooted onto the shiba cop and wrestled away his concealed bonechucks. The other corgi tackled the shiba's hind legs and put him into a submission hold.

"You've got a lot of guts coming in here. I'm sure Tony the Fat Cat could always use another copper like you in The Pits. Trevor! Get over here and take lost doggie back to our pound."

"You'd best let me go corgis. I got backup coming you know!"

"Backup you say? Tickle me treats you naive lost pup. We had a deal with the Shiba commissioner and you won't be missed at all." Trevor dragged the yelping shiba into the back rooms where his barks grew increasingly muffled.

"You know what time is it Brad?"

"Nope, what time is it Travis?"

"Its time for corgi treats. PUT THAT PIZZA TREATS IN MY MOUFFFF"

"I didn't order that! I literally just want a pizza with no crust", I told the delivery guy.

He responded by apologizing and told me it would take an extra 15 minutes to get my pizza. He then took the cocaine and left.

"Yeah I'll hook you up fam, how many?"

Of all the responses Jim had gotten for his crank calls, this was by far the least expected. Screaming at him made sense. Proceeding as normal was, well, normal. Responding with cranks of their own was always fun. But what was neither fun, normal, nor sensical was dropping professionalism while continuing the exchange.

"Uh... four?"

"I can do fo-"

"-Ty seven. Four-ty seven. Yeah."

"Hold up, son, lemme talk to my boy."

This was going to make for the best episode of 'JimmingAround' ever- already new Twitch streamers were coming in and tips were at 3 month high. But today wasn't supposed to have been such an active day. Over the past year Jim had ended up being very methodical about how he ran the channel. He had to be. He had used plants in the past to achieve this level of intrigue, and today was going off schedule- perhaps even off the rails.

"Ok-k-k it's gonna take a few days for me to talk to my connect, but I got 5 keys for you now. I'm thing I can give you the bulk half of my next drop, bringing you up to fifteen. Is this some sort of rush order, cause I got some homies cross town I can hook y'up wit."

"Uhh..."

"So how you planning on paying?"

"Uhh... this is- This is completely unacceptable. I'll be ordering from Pizza Hut from now on."

"Oh it's like that? Marco gonna catch these fi-"

The line went click as I chickened out and inadvertently started a gangwar that cost this man his arm. Anyway, here's wonderwall.

TOMMY DELIVERS A PIE

"You're driving like shit, dude," I told Bobby as he steered into the final series of hairpin turns before Yellow Springs Scenic Boulevard met the gravel mouth of my driveway. "I told you we should have taken an Uber."

  Bobby shrugged. "We're almost there, Jess," he replied. "It's fine."

"Tell that to the first responders," I muttered. 

But he was right. Despite the numerous plastic flutes of champagne we'd ingested at Frankie's graduation party, Bobby was driving all right. He always did-- Bobby was Mr. Dependable, which annoyed me in a vague kind of  way. Which was typical. Bobby had been vaguely annoying me since kindergarten, where we'd met on the monkey bars. For the past two months, since right around the time I finished school and headed north to Maine for my shitty, dead-end career as a gofer for a small-time pol (town selectman), he'd been overseas with the Peace Corps,  and that was the biggest chunk of time we'd spend apart since we were collecting Garbage Pail Kids and armpit farts. Bobby and I had basically been inseparable all our lives.

I rubbed my forehead.  Along with the moderate alcohol buzz I'd gotten from the celebratory champagne,  I was developing a headache. I needed to eat. Frankie's party had been all drinks, no buffet. Which I found perplexing. Who the hell throws a party and provides nothing to nosh on?

"I'm hungry," I told Bobby. "Who the hell throws a party with nothing to nosh on?" 

Bobby feathered the brake, made the turn into my driveway.  Gravel squealed and popped under the tires. 

"Frankie's parents do,  I guess."

"Yeah," I said. "Guess they do."

Bobby was acting strangely. Had been ever since he'd gotten back from Thailand. I thought the party might loosen him up a little, the salve of seeing old friends and reliving old memories, all that kind of stuff, but he seemed unaffected by any of it. He seemed distant. I wondered if this was the new improved Bobby,  the grown up, Back-Home-From-The-Peace-Corps Bobby-- just as Frankie was now a lawyer planning to specialize in environmental law, the ink presently drying on his newly-minted Law Degree. We all were New and Improved Versions of our high school selves. Did that include me? I didn't feel particularly improved. 

"You okay, Bob?" I asked,  suddenly frightened for no good reason. 

He drifted to a stop at the end of the drive and shoved the lever into park. He looked over at me. His smile put in an appearance, at last: that old Bobby McGee Rainier smile,  lopsided and dear to my heart. I felt lighter then, just as suddenly. Maybe things hadn't changed so much, after all.

"Yup," he answered.  "Five-by. But I'm hungry,  too. And also pretty drunk."

"Drove pretty good, though." The gravel ground under our soles as we headed for the door.

"Always could."

"Ain't that the truth." I dragged out my keys.

The cabin smelled damp and a bit musty, as it usually did in early September. My family hadn't used it regularly in years, but my father kept it up rigorously, former Marine that he was, anyhow, and it had become a tradition for all of us to meet up here a couple times a year for some kind of relaxation time -- myself,  Bobby, Frankie,  Liz Donnelly and her brother,  a few others. But for now, it was only Bobby and myself. No one else had been able to take the time. 

Discomfited, I made some kind of a face and moved to turn on some lights. I fluffed the sofa pillows, went to the old but kickass stereo system and queued up some Modest Mouse discs. The place needed attention. The media shelves were dusty, the corners adorned with wispy cobwebs like old worn lace. 

I ran out of things to do and turned to Bobby at last,  my head buzzing away with the remains of the champagne. He smiled at me and moved closer, which is what I'd simultaneously hoped for and feared. 

"Just us," he said. He pushed some errant  hair out of my face, smiling his Bobby McGee smile again. "Remember the old days? The times when it was just us?"

"Of course. " I closed my eyes, momentarily giving in to the warmth of his calloused hand on my face. "Those were very good times, Bobby. Very good times that were very long ago."

The room trembled with some kind of barely withheld feeling. Isaac Brock sung about a wooden heart that dripped with pitch. 

I took a breath and moved away, breaking whatever spell had fallen over the place.

"Hungry, Bobby," I said, moving toward the kitchen area of the open-space cabin. "Need something in my stomach. I could hurl, seriously. "

He only looked at me for a moment,  something unreadable in his dark eyes. I felt a pang of dismay.  Then he smiled and followed me, and everything was okay again. For the moment.

"This place is emptier than empty, " Bobby said after a quick perusal of the kitchenette area. "Don't you people ever eat?"

"No one has been up here since we got together on the Fourth,  Bobby," I told him.  "What do you expect? "

He chewed a ragged thumbnail, studying me. Nail biting. That was a new one. Bobby used to be meticulous about his manicure, to the point where certain d-bag peers would taunt him about it. I always thought it was sort of cute, myself.

"Pizza," he concluded finally. "Pizza is always the right answer." 

"Ooh yes, I'm down," I said immediately,  my alcohol -fugged brain already envisioning biting into a greasy slice.  "Call em up for delivery,  and we don't even have to leave."

"Will they deliver out here, in the williwags like this?"

"Yes. We ordered pizza on Fourth of July. Remember? That weird little place right near the highway exit was open. Papa Giorio's, something like that." 

Bobby found a Yellow Pages on the table near the door and squinted at it, flipping pages.

"Vai," he concluded. "Right off the exit, convenient blah blah, open 24 hours. That's the place, all right.  I recognize the logo."

Vai? Where the hell did I get Papa Giorio's? I laughed out loud.

Bobby cast a considering glance at me,  something dark and appraising in his eyes. I felt uncomfortable,  thought again of how much we all had changed. It was a little creepy. And I didn't want him to touch me again, either, I told myself. 1995 was a long time ago.

"Okay, Vai," he said in a soft voice. "That okay with you? "

"I.... I didn't bring any cash with me," I said uncertainly. I sat down on the sofa, hugged one of the throw pillows close. It smelled faintly of mildew and old beer. 

"I'll pick up the tab, Jess," he said. "Don't worry about that."

I sat still,  watching him as he pulled out his phone and dialed. He put the phone to his ear and waited for what seemed like a long time. Then his eyes changed focus, and he spoke.

"Yes! I'd LOVE to place a delivery order, thanks. Oh, go on-- YOU'RE very friendly.  No, you-- okay, enough of that. Onward." He winked at me. "I'd like a large veggie pizza with thin crust, please.  Two Coke Zeros, and -- do you have Coke Zero? Oh yeah? ............WOW,  that's quite a list you've got there, you guys have-- oh, well it's LOVELY to make your acquaintance,  Renaldo, I'm Philbert. Philbert Periwinkle, yes, I'm....  P-E-R-I-W-I-N-K-L-E, yes, Renaldo. Thank you! Aren't you just... And one more thing, Renaldo, if you please. I'd like a large cheese pizza, no crust."

I snorted laughter,  clapping a hand over my mouth to quiet myself.

"No crust, that's right, Renaldo," he went on, winking at me again. "You bet....yes, no crust, just slop 'er right onto-- exactly! Exactly, Renaldo.... Well, that's a very reasonable total, sir!! Great service,  great prices, who could ask for more, you guys are... oh, go ON,  Renaldo.  You're too much. You have a beautiful night,  now. No, YOU have a beautiful-- good bye, Renaldo, I'm ringing off now. Good night, sir, you are absolutely lovely."

I surrendered to laughter as Bobby hung up his phone. His plummy-chummy-guy voice never failed to slay me.

He sank down beside me on the sofa,  grinning. "NO idea why I did that, exactly. Just felt right. Think they'll ignore me?  Call me a prank?" 

I laughed again.  "It's a safe assumption, I think."

"Damn," he said,  chuckling. " I really AM hungry, is the thing. Renaldo loved me, Jess. I regret nothing." 

"We'll have to go out and pick something up."

"We can't, " he said seriously. "We're too busy."

I could only laugh. "With what??"

"This," he said, and leaned close.

My stomach was suddenly filled with butterflies. But they were dancing in sunlight.

Hours later, I awoke on the sofa, head aching vaguely. I was still draped across the cushion where I'd fallen asleep, limbs entertwined with Bobby's.  He was gone. The sofa cushion had a butt-sized indentation in it, barely warm to the touch, but that was all.

Someone was rapping on the cabin door.

"Bobby?" I called out, bewildered,  brain  fuzzed with sleep.  

More rapping from the cabin door. 

"Shit," I hissed. I hoisted myself off the low sectional, feeling dopey and unreal. I headed for the door. (To be continued )

"I think it's about time we threw in the towel on this one. We've been watching these guys for months and I for one haven't seen anything."

"Well that why you'll never get paid the big bucks Tom."

"Oh shut up Harry! You can't tell me you've seen something strange going on here. It's just a pizza joint man. We're wasting our time."

"Yea...yea. Well Jim over in Narcs told me something big was going down tonight. A lot of stuff is being moved and I think this is where it's goin'"

"The guys in Narcs are always sure that something big is going down man. When are you ever going to give it up?"

"Look dude, if you want to go home that's on you, but I'm going to stay right here and watch this place."

"God, I fucking hate you sometimes."

Tom settles down in his seat preparing for a long boring night. Adjusting his hat a little he glances over at Dom's Pizza. It wasn't much to look at, a brick building smashed between two identical brick buildings. There was trash piling up in the alley besides it and a dog was digging through it. The place didn't seem to have a lot of foot traffic, hardly anyone ever went in, but every day delivery boys went out this way and that like clockwork.

A couple months ago cops starting picking up druggies saying they'd bought their blow from Dom's place. No one really took it seriously, but they posted two beat cops on the corner anyways. Harry thought that this was it. If they could just bust this case there'd be promotions in their futures for sure but Tom didn't care. He knew better. This was just some cockamamie bullshit they through some nobodies on to make the media shut up.

"Hey, man wake me up when something happens alright?" Harry tapped him on the head.

"What the fuck Harry? I don't even want to be here."

"Man just shut up and wake me if anything good happens."

With that Harry rolled over and almost immediately went to sleep. Tom thought it was a gift, the way his partner could decide to sleep and then just be asleep.

'If only I could go to sleep' he thought. But he wouldn't be able to until this assignment was over. Looking over at Dom's again he thought 'fuck it' and pulled out his phone. He was hungry, it was late, his partner was asleep, he was going to order a goddamn pizza.

"Hello. Thank you for calling Dom's what can I get for ya?"

Tom looked over at Harry. This was a stupid idea, "Uh, yea. Let me get a large cheese pizza hold the crust."

"A large cheese pizza hold the crust sir? Would you like that with or without sugar?"

A nervous laugh. Tom didn't know when this had turned into a prank call, but it was too late to back out now. "Why would I order a cheese pizza no crust if I didn't want the sugar...? Or is that too much for you guys? I was told you were the best."

"Yessir, that'll be out as soon as possible. Keep it fresh and stay cool"

Tom let out a breath. He was glad the to go guy was cool. Prank calling a business was illegal and Tom didn't need any marks on his record. He was setting his phone back on the charger when Harry said, "Shit Tom, why'd you go and do that for?"

He was rubbing his eyes and casting sour looks at his passenger.

"I don't know man. I was bored. You were asleep. It just sort of happened...."

"This is an official investigation. We don't have time to be playing games! What if you blew our cover?"

"Well I didn't. The guy on the phone just thought it was some prank caller I bet."

"Why would he think that?"

"I ordered a cheese pizza no crust."

"No crust?"

"No crust."

"How does that even work?"

"I don't know, but there's no way anyone took it seriously."

"Ok, but you've got to be more careful dude. I really need this to work out."

"Yea well, nothing happened so lets just settle down."

They both settled back into their seats. There was still a long night ahead of them. They were both still wide awake an hour later when the store lit up with activity. Car were pulling in and out and men were running all over the place with large duffle bags. Tom slapped Harry on the chest.

"Are you seeing what I am?"

Harry nod, "It's been so quiet all this time, I wonder what's going on."

"I don't know"

The men at Dom's pizza were still running around, but now they were loading all the pizza delivery cars with the duffle bags which had been filled with something from inside the store. When they finished they covered the bags with pizza boxes started the cars and began to drive away.

"We should follow them" Harry started the car and pulled out behind the last car leaving Dom's pizza.

"You think we should call it in?"

"Yea it's probably nothing but just to be sure...."

"ok" Tom pulled out his radio and began talking with dispatch. "They're sending backup. We just need to tell them where."

The car Harry was following drove for a long time. It made random turns and backtracked through side roads and alley ways. All this time Harry followed. He tried to stay a few cars back. They hadn't been trained for this, but it worked for the guys in the movies so he figured it couldn't hurt, but when the car turned down alleys and deserted roadways Harry had no choice but to be obvious.

"Hey, look they're slowing down." Tom was already calling it out on the radio. They were at the harbors near the old abandoned warehouses.

"...Looks like the car stopped...it's a white ford focus....they're pulling the car into one of the warehouses....Harry cut the lights out man... how far out is backup?" A long pause. "What do you mean they're not coming!?...What? What could be more important than backing up your fellow officers!?... Shit ok. ok. Stay in contact." Tom threw his radio up on the dashboard and ran his fingers through his hair, "They aren't coming Har."

"What do you mean they aren't coming?"

"There's a big bust going down on the other side of town everyone's been called to back it up."

"Why weren't we called!?"

"I don't know man! What are we going to do?"

"We can't just let them get away come on" Harry grabbed his gun and got out the car.

"This is a bad idea," Tom said, but he grabbed his gun and followed his partner out to the warehouses anyways.

They were slinking around the building jumping from shadow to shadow when they found the door. Slowly Tom reached for the handle "It's unlocked."

Harry looked his partner in the eye, "Ok let's go."

Tom opened the door and together they stepped through. Checking in opposite directions they made their way into the warehouse. When they were a good ways in the lights suddenly turned on. It blinded Harry and Tom for a moment and when they could see again they were surrounded.

"I never thought you guys would figure it out," A man called from behind the army of armed men, "Such a shame. It was all going so well."

Tom and Harry were standing back to back with their weapons out. "We've known for months. You'll never get away with this." A bluff.

"You guys have been watching us, but you haven't found anything have you. And where are your friends? Across town? Hmm? The cops of this city are so fun to play with."

"What are you talking about!?"

"You think it's a coincidence that as soon as you two cracked the code every available cop would be called away? It pays to have big friends with small pockets." He laughed, "The only thing I don't know is how you did it. How'd you know to order the cheese pizza no crust?"

"What!? I don't know what you're talking about"

"I see you aren't going to tell me. Oh well. I guess it doesn't matter, but before you go..." He turned and began to walk away, "No one orders sugar with their pizza."

(continued from previous post) TOMMY DELIVERS A PIE

More rapping.

The pizza! Shit, we forgot.. .And they actually sent the Damn things ! My stomach growled in anticipation as I pulled the cabin door open.

Through the cloud of insects surrounding the porch light, i saw a tall, thin, fair man standing on my porch. He wore olive green board shirts and a green cotton tee, some sort of writing on the front. His feet were in ancient Chuck Taylors, green on white. He had a head full of amazing dreadlocks that fell all the way past his waist, lighter at the ends, where they were almost white, and darker near the scalp, where they went the dirty no-color of all dishwater blondes. Said scalp was obsured by a striped tam, maroon and yellow and white. He wore a massive beard, which also cascaded down to his waistline in a series of six tight dreadlocks. His eyes were the color of Nevada sky at noon. They took me in, then lit up even brighter.

"Jess??!" A giant grin split his face. 

"Tommy." I held my arms out to him, my eyes already prickling with emotion. He enveloped me in a massive bear hug. He smelled just like you'd think he would, like patchouli and sweat and garlic,  like stale cotton. Like home.

We were seventeen, just heading into our senior year, when Tommy Jerkzyck's family moved away to Northern California. He'd been the other pea in our little pod, and we all grieved when he left. I hugged him harder, closing my eyes against hot tears.

"Tommy," i said, when we finally let go. "Oh, Tommy, it's so good to see you. Come in, Bobby McGee is here, he'll be so happy to see you." I stepped back.

Tommy swiped at his moist eyes and grinned,  stepping inside the cabin. "Its so good to see you, too, Jess," he said. "The first thing i did when I got back in town was to try and look you guys up, but your mom told me you split. Said Ol McGee was in Peace Corps and you took off to fuckin Maine, of all places, I was bummed, man. You guys back for good, then ??"

I shook my head. "We came in for Frankie's graduation. God, its good to see you, man!" Impulsively, I hugged him again. He squeezed back. 

I let go and looked him over. The writing on his shirt said "Vai. Authentic Italian, 24/7." 

I laughed, delighted. "You're the pizza man??"

He grinned and looked down, tented his shirt.

"Yeah.  The money, man gotta make that bread. Can't beat it. I'm looking to save up, get out of here for good. Maybe set up a little smoke shop somewhere west, you know?"

"Sure," I said, bemused. The money? He's delivering pizzas, how good could the money be? And speaking of...

"Tommy?"

"Yeah?" Big grin. 

"Where's the pizza, Tommy?"

"Oh! It's in the car. I leave it til I make sure."

"Make sure of what, Tommy?"

"Well, make sure,  that's all." He winked. "That the customer is serious."

I laughed hard. "Well, I'm serious,  Tommy," I told him. "I seriously want to scarf down every bit of pizza you brought for me. Right now."

He grinned at me, not moving. "Seriously,  Tommy," I said. "Lets have it."

He headed back to his car, laughing. "All RIGHT, that's what I like to hear!  You grab the cash, I'll get the pie. Smooooooth transaction."

I turned around and peered into the cabin. "Bobby?" I called. "Where the hell are you? The pizza's here, I need some cash to pay for it!" I paused.  "And you'll never fucking believe this, but its Tommy Jerzyck that's delivering it! Come on out here and say hello!"

Tommy was heading back my way, frowning a little. There was a small, rectangular package in his hands. It was wrapped in brown, like shipping paper.

I stared at the package in his hands, confused.  

"Tommy? What the fuck is that?"

"What do you mean?" he said. His voice was loud and nervous.  "Its the pizza, what the FUCK do you think it is? Large cheese,  no crust!" 

I looked at him, speechless.  The package in his hands was not a pizza. Was he having a psychotic break or something?  Ice bloomed suddenly in my stomach.

He stared at me, his pretty eyes suddenly gone hard and cold. "Where's the money, Jess?"

I swallowed hard. "Bobby has it, he just--" I swung around, called out again for Bobby.

"Where's the fucking money, Jess?" Tommy asked. His voice was harsh,  dry as Nevada terrain. I turned back to him. His ice chip eyes studied me closely.  "What the fuck is going on with you, Jess?"

I cringed away from the frightening look on his normally kind face. "I don't --" 

I stopped dead, baffled.

A small, neat hole had appeared in the center of Tommy Jerzyck's forehead. The cold light in his eyes whiffed out and was replaced by nothingness, an utter void. He went over like someone had cut his strings,  clattering down noisily on the boards of the porch.  It was only then that my brain processed the sound of the gunshot. I turned.

Bobby stood in the dimness just inside the doorway in a classic shooter's pose, arms braced, stance wide. A small gun glinted mellowly in his hand. His wide, blazing eyes fell on me. 

"Holy shit," he said hoarsely. "Its actually true."

"What?  What?" I said dumbly.  My ears felt like they'd been stuffed with cotton,  like I'd just come out of a Slayer show. 

"What they say about that Vai place. Its true," he said. He dropped his stance finally, looked at the gun in his hand in surprise, like it was the first time he'd ever seen it. "That's cocaine in that package, Jess," he continued in his hoarse voice. "Tommy Jerzyck just delivered a kilo of coke."

I stood frozen in the doorway. I looked down at Tommy, sprawled out on the porch. His Converse pointed in opposite directions. He was limp and utterly slack,  the complete stillness of death. 

"Bobby."

"What."

"You killed Tommy. Killed him. "

"Yeah." He wiped his face with his free hand, tucked the little gun into his waistband. His face looked white and ill. "Goddamn, guess I did. I panicked, something like that."

"He's dead. Tommy's dead."

"Holy shit," Bobby said again. 

"Okay," I said. I gulped air. "Okay."

Bobby went over and picked up the brown wrapped package from where it fell. He tore off the paper. Took a Buck knife from his pocket and slit open the cellophane beneath. He balanced a tiny white pile on the blade. Snorted deeply.

"Holy FUCK! " he said loudly. "Holy shit, Jess."

I looked at him. I looked at Tommy, splayed out on  the porch boards. I thought of the dented metal desk I rode most days, back north.   Then I reached down and grabbed Tommy's body by the legs. 

"Help me,  Bobby. "

"What?"

"Help me get him to the bathtub."

"WHAT??  Why?"

"Just do it!"

He grabbed Tommy's legs and I let him take over. He was big and broad, accustomed to hard manual labor. He could handle it.

I ran across the porch and through the yard, heading for my father's shed. I heaved open the double  doors and cast my gaze over the walls, where tools hung neatly  on pegs. My father was an organized guy, and i saw what I needed almost immediately. The hacksaw gleamed wickedly,  limned in a moonbeam.

I grabbed it and headed back to the cabin. Then I went to work.

The End

After the initial shock wore off, Chad tried to make sense of what had just happened.

He'd ordered a pizza. A ridiculous order. Something the 17 year old on the other end of the line should have scoffed at and hung up. Instead, 2 men had come to the door. "Thursday, we come back. Pay then, with the money or your life."

Chad hadn't known what to say to that, thinking the kid on the phone had sent his pizza buddies to make a little prank of their own. Nope. Not that lucky. Inside the standard pizza box were dozens of baggies with a white, powdery substance inside. There were a lot of these baggies. Now, Chad hadn't gone to college for nothing, so he had an idea what these baggies might contain.

After a moments hesitation, he knew what he had to do. He'd been out of college for a couple years, but it was always good to know a few people into darker things. He called Jenny - an old fuck-buddy whom had had quite the habit back-in-the-day, Thom - a ne'er-do-well who always had a scheme or a scam, and June - a stockbroker. He told them all that he needed them to come over as soon as possible. He knew they'd all stayed in or around the city, San Francisco had plenty of jobs for Stanford grads. They'd all kept in touch over the years, Chad had just seen Thom a few weeks past. One by one, they'd agreed to meet up the following afternoon for lunch.

They went to Tacolicous. Yes, it's pretentious, but it's San Francisco... What do you expect? Over margaritas and too-pricey tacos, Chad told them what had happened. June, always a little judgemental even on her best days, had a few choice words for Chad.

"First of all, your 25. Why the fuck are prank calling pizza places? Second, you're an idiot. Third... Why are we here? "

Chad responded, not a little sheepishly, " I was bored and maybe more than a little stoned. Shit happens. And yes, I'm an idiot, I accept that. As far as why you're all here, well... I was hoping you'd help me get rid of this shit. I don't really feel like dying. Hell, I don't really feel like getting kneecapped or shanked or whatever-the-fuck these dudes do with people who don't deliver. Before you ask why I don't call the cops, well... Do you think they'd believe me? 'Oh, yes, cops? I just happen to have about a thousand little bags of what I think is yayo, wanna come arrest me real quick? It'd take a huuuuuuuge weight, literally, off my shoulders.' No, no I don't think that'd work at all. So, I called you assholes. Thom, you're the schemer. If these other two lively, beautiful, flawless beauties can't come up with something, I'm sure you can. As for you, Jenny, you had quite the, uh, nose for this particular indulgence back when we were dating.

Jenny interrupted "We weren't dating, asshole, we were fucking. And yeah, I liked a little party back then, of course, it was fucking college. I quit years ago. Shit, I quit while I was still blowing you in the dorm stairwell. So no, I don't know any fucking drug dealers. Except for my scumbag brother."

"That's it! I knew there was a reason I called you!" Chad smacked the table. "Your scumbag brother is exactly the guy I need." Jenny looked at Chad like he'd lost his mind.

"Andy is an idiot. A bigger idiot than you, Chud. He sells Molly to high-schoolers. He wouldn't know the first thing about moving a key of blow. Even if he did, I don't really want him in on this. He's a fucking idiot. I think I already mentioned that."

Chad looked forlorn. "But Jen... If he knows where to get E, he'll know who has coke. He'll know who sells it. I have 5 days to move more coke than I've ever seen in real life. If I had to move this on my own, I'd sell three bags and then run out of customers. Between you three and me, we can definitely sell all of it, but..."

June held up a hand. "Why am I here, bud? I'm a fucking sto... Oh. You just watched Wolf of Wall Street, didn't you?"

"Actually, it was Boiler Room. Fuck Leo was good in Wolf of Wall Street! I didn't think of that, but yeah. It's because of that."

June gave a way smile. "Well, you know I can't sell it personally. I can't lose my job like that. But, if I introduced Andy to a couple of guys, I'd have that shit moved in about 2 days."

Chad beamed, and kissed June square in the lips. "June, you're a fucking champ. The best around. If you weren't married to your job, I'd ben..."

Thom cleared his throat. "How much are we gonna make? Are we gonna cut it? How pure is it? Columbian? Russian? Afghani? How much did they say they wanted? We're lacking a bunch of info here, Chad. If we sell these lightweight stockjockeys, no offense June, some really pure shit and they start fucking dying, we're not really doing a great job. We need to know a lot of shit. And we need to know it fast. I've got a general idea of what a gram of decent shit goes for, about $50, but what do we cut it with? Aspirin usually works, but then we have to sell a whole bunch more. If we stomp it down to half, then we effectively have to move two fucking kilos in 5 days. Fuck that. We're not Scarface. So, we sell it as is. Do we plan on making money?"

The conversation continued. They changed bars, went right up the street to Casanova, sat in a dark booth and schemed. They decided that Andy would make connections with June's co-workers. It was easy enough, those dudes loved to party. Andy had enough knowledge to undercut street prices a bit to entice the buyers, which helped move product quickly. It turned out Jenny still had some sorority sisters that liked a little party now and then, and she sold about 20 grams to them. As the deadline got closer, and with about 200 grams left, they pushed hard to sell as much as they could, vowing to have one last hurrah on Wednesday night, figuring if they got the math wrong, they might as well die stoned.

The party was a success. They invited some of the frequent buyers, figuring they could move the last of it there.

The night was a blur, but they sold or snorted the rest. They gathered the money, about $50k. And they waited for the knock.

And that was how, in 5 days, Chad, June, Thom, Jenny and Jenny's scumbag brother Andy each made about $4k in a week, and didn't get killed by Russian Mobsters.

"Cheese pizza with no crust."

He didn't seem to like what I just said. I might as well just asked him to fuck his mother. His lip curled up, revealing dark gums and yellow teeth. Right, but he was disgusted with me. I guess the Internet comments were right, people are just so tight assed these days, can't even take a joke. The joke always got a few laughs in North Carolina but I guess New Yorkers don't find that shit funny. Rookie mistake. Don't quit your day job Frank. Why didn't I remember what happened to Paul Walker's character in The Fast and the Furious movie when he ordered that tuna sandwich with no crust? He got his ass beat.

"Eh? Who aara yuu?" The cashier asked in a speech that sounded like a old record player scratching before it caught the beat.

I felt embarrassed. Explaining myself would just make it worse. "Sorry, I'm Frank. Just want to place an order to go."

"Eraaight, okayee Frank. Doora on the left, passet the bathrooms. Knock harda like 3 times and ask for Steve."

[End part 1]

It's 9 PM in the evening. The smell of cigarettes and booze still lingers in my apartment from the night before.

I hear my girlfriend shift quietly in our bed. My mouth is dry as hell and I can smell my own breath. Where did I place the Ibuprofen? Please God! I can feel my heart pulse in my head, my stomach let's out a deafening growl. I need food, something to just get my mind off of this hangover.

I walk over to the fridge, and throw open the door hoping to find some of those lasagna leftovers from three nights ago. No, nothing, the fridge is empty besided a half gallon of milk, a couple of beers and an orange that has definitely seen better days. With a disappointing thud I close the fridge.

I turn back towards the counter where, out of the corner of my eye I spot an ad in out local paper. Tucked away in the bottom right hand corner on the back of our newspaper I see it, "Nikkos Pizza Place." Again I can hear churning noises coming from my stomach.

Reaching into my pocket I grab my phone, eight percent battery left. Better make it count. I hastily dial the number and wait. "Nikkos Pizza, how can I help you?!" Shit I don't know what to say, I had no time to decide what I wanted but it's too late now. "Can I please get a large pizza with just pepperoni and cheese?" there's a small pause on the other end "Anything else? What kind of crust do you want? Garlic, butter, parmesane?"

I take a moment to think "No crust please." why do I need garlic crust, they are going to rip me off for that anyway... There's a silence on the other end, "You said you wanted a large pepperoni with NO crust?" It took me a few seconds to collect my thoughts until I repeated "Correct, no crust." On the other end, "Will this be for pickup or delivery?" Do I want to pay the deliver fee? The address shown in the ad should only be two blocks or so down from me, "Pickup, I live close by." in a raspy almost concerned voice he says "Come around the back." I hear a click, he hung up! Just like that, no price, nothing.

I wait about 15 minutes before heading out. Wish I had some time to charge my phone, doesn't matter I'll leave it here. I'll be right back anyway. I toss my phone on the counter on my way out the door, headed into the cool December New York air.

To be continued...

First little story I decided to write here. I'm on my phone but please let me know if you want me to write the rest.

I was prioritizing my daily assignments. I have to start each day with a list of tasks, or nothing gets done. So I woke up thinking: How do I motivate myself to go out and form a friendly human bond today? That was what my therapist suggested I do. I had nothing against the idea, but it was an obstinate task. I have no basis for forming bonds, it's unrealistic. Anyway, I started by looking up the definition.

"A bond is a relationship between two people based on shared feelings."

Ok, I can do that.

I looked through my list of tasks for the day to identify one that involved interacting with another person. There wasn't one, because today is Saturday. I could've given up then. But I relinquished the fear and decided to order pizza for lunch. That's two human interactions on the whole: the phone call to order the pizza, and the reception at my front door.

I spent most of the morning looking at a list of human feelings to decide which one I wanted to share with the phone attendant and the delivery person. I decided that "humor" would be of benefit to both parties. I would orchestrate an event in which I would receive a pizza whilst sharing a humorous moment with the phone-attendant and delivery person.

I rang up Casadroga's.

"Casadroga's."

"Hi, I would like to place an order for delivery."

I gave them my name, address, and phone number.

"What would you like?"

"I would like a cheese pizza with no crust."

He paused.

"Who is this again?"

His Italian accent was slipping. His voice weakened a little. I hit the funny bone.

I stated my name again.

"Sir, did you say you would like a cheese pizza with no crust?"

"It's - it's good right?" I sniggered.

It was completely silent on the other line. Muted. He probably had his hand cupped over the receiver, stifling laughter. This was a breakthrough.

"Yah. It's good. Hold a minute."

I was confused by the phone attendant's behavior but I decided to roll with the punches. He had my name. My address. My phone number. All the ingredients for a friendship. I felt a little anxious, to be honest. For twenty years I had not felt an emotional connection to another person.

I heard footsteps in the receiver. Then his voice again.

"The tomatoes are off."

I could not identify what he was feeling anymore. His voice was completely stiff. Was he evoking pity? Was it another joke? I just said the first thing that came to mind.

"Ew."

"SHIT" I heard several voices clamor. Then he turned off the phone.

---

I'm not sure how I feel anymore.

Whenever I try to connect with another person, I get confused and say the wrong thing. I spent a few hours crying. I didn't even finish putting my list of daily assignments together.

"I'm bored", I thought while rummaging through a catalog of completely uninteresting channels on daytime TV.

Maury sucks, Jerry Springer definitely sucks, Judge Joe Brown can kiss my ass, and don't even get me started on Family Feud. "Seriously, how many episodes of Steve Harvey looking dumbfounded at a stupid answer can they make before people get tired of it?"

"They've gotta be on like....episode 2000 or something." replied my good friend Toby who obviously heard me thinking aloud.

"Yea TV sucks right now. Hey, how about we make our own fun?" Toby chewed on that suggestion for a second, his freckled face contorting with seemingly every thought, and after a few seconds he broke the silence with, "Lets make some crank calls!"

20 somethings are usually past the point of being a childish nuisance, but we were/are man-children. "Who should we call?" I asked warily. My reply was more strain on the face of Toby as he attempted to follow up on his original suggestion.

"Fuck it, lets just call Feng's Pizza." I interjected, saving Toby from the burden of more thought. "Feng's Pizza?....Is this a Chinese restaurant too?" "No, but they make some pretty good pizza. I usually just get a thin-crust cheese." "Sounds like as good of a suggestion as any", said Toby.

And just like that, the wheels were set in motion for a very eventful afternoon.

After debating who would call and then struggling to grasp a funny enough prank to say, I just decided to wing it and create a joke on the fly.

I anxiously dialed the number for Feng's, "What am I nervous for?" After the first dial tone I accepted the childish thing I committed too, and the anxiety evaporated.

"Sank you for carring Feng's, wha can I git fa you today?" I paused for a split-second, nothing came to mind, then completely out of nowhere I replied "Can I get a cheese pizza...but no crust please" "Cheese wit no crust?", our crank calling victim replied, with barely a hint of confusion. Toby laughed in the background, which was the only reason I didn't think the prank was a complete fail. "Yea, cheese with no crust". Toby giggled aloud. "Ok, we have ya address saved in ow system. You have been upgraded to a VERY special customa. Your delivery will be dere in 20 minute."

After hanging up, Toby was ecstatic, me not so much. I was searching for more of a reaction from the Chinese pizza parlor. Maybe I was just being racist, but I thought 1st generation immigrants would be an easier target. "It's almost like they really do have an option for no crust pizza. Wierd" "Well, we'll see soon enough" replied an especially giddy Toby. "Hey, did they tell you how much it will cost?" I was so busy trying to get a laugh out of him earlier that I completely forgot to ask. "No, but I should have enough cash. I wasn't expecting to buy no-crust pizza today but I'm intrigued to see what they bring." Toby took a strained look at the ceiling and asked "I wonder if it'll be just a big lump of cheese?"

25 minutes passed and the delivery guy knocked on my door. When I opened it, I saw a short black guy with some Louis Vuitton shades on holding a pizza box too stuffed to close all the way.

'Did you order a cheese pizza with no crust?' he said, breaking the awkward stare we held when I first opened the door. "Uhhh...yea" He then walked in. "Apparently pizza guys invite themselves in nowadays?" I thought. He only stopped to glance at Toby, whose red face and balled lips gave away his barely suppressed laughter. The delivery guy ultimately paid him no mind, set the box on my cluttered dining table, and opened it.

Toby had bet it would be just a pile of cheese, I thought it would be a normal pizza with crust cut off. Neither of us expected several plastic wrapped bricks of white powder.

A pause fell over the room. "Is that cocaine." Toby nervously blurted out.

A range of emotions starting from perplexed and ending at amused flashed across the 'delivery' guy's face. "Haha, yea...now where is the money?"

Not knowing what else to do I panicked and pulled out the crumpled wad of $22 from my pocket, and the delivery guy was no longer amused. At this point I thought Toby and I were possibly dead; we might have secretly uncovered a drug trafficking ring at the local pizza parlor.

"Is this a joke? Hey man give me the money or I'm out!" the drug dealing pizza guy demanded. "S-Sorry it was just a prank! We were bored and we thought it would be funny to ask for a pizza with no crust. How were we supposed to know you would bring Cocaine!" "Well technically it was just you and not 'we' who called" "FUCK YOU Toby!"

Just like that the pizza box was shut and the dealer stormed out fuming, when he turned around at the doorway to face me I saw an anxious mix of anger and fear. But his tone was low and calm when he said, "You call Feng's again, only order pizza. Because if you order 'this' again or we find out you told anyone what you saw today, you're going to have some problems. Ok?"

Toby and I nodded our head in eager agreement, anything to prevent us from getting shot.

Once the dealer left, silence invaded my home and didn't leave until Toby in his red, sweaty faced aftershock turned to me and said... "Let's just keep watching TV. You know I heard there might be some new episodes of Family Feud on."

At that moment I realized sometimes its safer to be bored.

The knock shattered the blaring silence in my apartment and my body jerked into wakefulness, nearly falling off the couch. I glanced blearily at my phone. It was 3:00 am. What kind of asshole comes knocking at 3:00 am?

"Who the fuck...", I muttered as I stumbled to the door. I looked through the eyepiece. A pizza delivery guy.

I guess this probably has to do with Matt fucking with them earlier. He thought it would be hilarious to order a cheese pizza with no crust. What an idiot. At least it was better than the time he got us kicked out of Panda Garden by repeatedly yelling "Konichiwa!" at the managers.

The pizza lady on the line had been completely unfazed by the request. They must have people like Matt call them all the time.

"Great sir, that'll be $20 000. Cash upfront?" she had said when Matt made his order. What a genius way to shut up a prank caller. Matt laughed and sarcastically agreed before hanging up, and we soon forgot all about the stupid call, enjoying the rest of the evening. Until Matt headed back to his girlfriend's place.

But now there was a pizza delivery guy outside my door. Was I being pranked back for what happened earlier? Was Matt messing around with me? I looked the guy up and down.

Come to think of it, he didn't really look like a pizza delivery guy. Sure, he had the outfit and the pizza box, but he didn't look quite right. He was turned sideways, looking down the hall towards the stairs. He was like a statue, one hand on the box, the other in a bag he had at his side. Even his pants didn't seem quite right. They looked like they belonged on an expensive suit, not on a pizza delivery guy.

He reached out, eyes never leaving the stairs, and knocked again. The movement was almost robotic, his arm returning to the exact same position in the bag as before.

Seeing no way around it, I opened the door, fumbling with my wallet as I searched for a couple of bills in the grim light.

"Money in the bag," he said. I looked up and he was right in front of me holding the bag open. I didn't even notice him moving towards me, he was just there. I gawked at him as he stared back at me, expressionless.

"How... how much?" I asked, surprised at how stiff my tongue felt.

"20 K, as agreed."

This had to be Matt pranking me. What pizza place would do this?

"Where's the money?" The man's hand was in the bag again. He was holding something. I could see his forearm twitch as he rhythmically squeezed it. He reminded me of a crouching predator, his composure a glassy pond that could be disturbed by the slightest breath.

I struggled to answer his question.

"Where's the money?" The man stepped towards me, pulling his hand slightly out of the bag and revealing the sinister glint of a blade. I couldn't breathe.

He took another step, a hint of a smile appearing on his stone features. There's no way Matt would be smart enough to pull off something like this.

In desperation, I squeaked "Show me," and gestured towards the pizza box.

He let go of the knife and pulled open the box, revealing a huge amount of white powder split between several bags. Either somebody had decided to give me a $20 000 flour delivery or this was cocaine.

"I don't want this," I said feebly.

He smiled crookedly and set down the box, pulling out his knife. "If you're not a buyer, you can't know about us. He stepped towards me again, his eyes shining with hunger.

Fuck.

I needed to do something. I looked around for anything that I could use, but all I could see were the food wrappers that Matt and I had left on the couch while we were drinking.

Wait.

"Hold on, I have a money stash behind the couch! I'll give you everything!" I was practically squealing in my fear.

The man narrowed his eyes. "20 K?"

"No but it's a start. I'll give you all of it, you can take whatever you like."

His eyes narrowed to slits, and he grabbed me by the right arm, ready to snap it in an instant. He laid me over the couch, agonizingly twisting my arm.

"Grab it then," he whispered in my ear.

I looked over the back of the couch and reached down desperately. For one of the beer bottles that Matt had dropped back there. My hand brushed one and I shakily grasped it.

Then it tapped against the wall.

clink

Everything happened at once. The sound of glass triggered the man like a coiled spring. He savagely snapped my arm, but I could hardly feel the pain as I whirled towards him. I felt more resistance in my shoulder, but ignored it as I continued to spin, hearing another snap as my arm was mangled in an instant. I blindly slammed the bottle into his skull and he reeled back, reaching for his knife in vile rage. I was already slamming the door behind me by the time he regained his senses.

I ran.

The speaker on the other side of the phone went silent for a moment. "Sorry, we don't do extra large for first time customers."

Bob made a stretched face and laughed at the curious notion. "What kind of business doesn't serve first time customers?"

Bob could hear the scratching sound of a hand used to muffle the receiver, although he could barely make out the words. The pizza guy was having a side conversation with his manager. "Dumbass! Guy we don't know comes out of nowhere and makes a big order? That there's a rat. Unless he's got a cargo truck of ex-mil hardware and a fucking reference, you find out how he got this number and you give 'em the special."

Bob hung up immediately. A restaurant with a rat problem was bad enough. Now they were going to leave spitball specials in his food? What was the world coming to?

[removed]

Finally, he finished the last of his cheese pizza with no crust. He had never felt so satisfied. It had only taken him 2 months to finish the lot. He looked around his lounge.

Wait, whose lounge was this?

He was wearing scuba diving flippers and his undies. A thought occurred to him: I need to get a cat.

He left the house to get a cat. On the way he was sure that screaming at the two undercover cops he thought he saw in a van parked by the roadside would dnes a raelc message that he was onto rhem, they'd nevee b ounce if he expected them to come.

So where the hell was his goddam dog?

"Heere pooch pooch pooch pooch pooch pooch pooch pooch. HERE POOCH POOCH POOCH" He yelled, clicking his fingers in the faces of passers by in case the knew where his dog was.

A policewoman suddenly appeared in front of him, rudely interrupting his attempt to climb into the trash can to find. .. ah shit what was it?

She asked a few questions that he missed, but he did hear "when did you last sleep? What's your mane?"

WELL I SLEEP WHEN I CAN BUT MY NMAE IS SOMETHING I CAN'T JUST BRING UP STRAIGHT TO THE POINT FROM UNDERNEATH WHERE IT WAS WHEN I STARTED THIS WHOLE CAPER, YOU SEE I SET OUT ALONG THIS LONG AND LONELY ROAD IN SEARCH OF A HOLY QUEST TO BRING BACK TO MY LODGE THE FEARSOME BEAST...

As he w4s car3fully expla

Inning the circumstanc3s of his curre Mt state, he realised that he had been broVGht to the desk of what appeared to be a P0liece station. ThaT cannt be r1ght he thought.

"WELL?" the angry looking officer behind the desk asked

D

A QUESTION? what was it?

"OH right! I'd like to order a large Ch3ese P4zza with no crust please"

I had driven past the decrepit, shitty building at least a thousand times since moving into the apartment complex it sat next to, constantly polluting the space in which I chose to inhabit semi-permanently. Apparently the owners of the place were advertising geniuses...to compliment the decaying restaurant's uninspiring and borderline infuriating building, there was a single word on the glass double-doors in the front: "PIZZA". Three months of seeing the place convinced me to finally check it out.

The only vehicle in the parking lot was the beat-up 2002 Ford Ranger that always sat outside of "PIZZA". I parked next to it, walked up to the dirty glass doors, and peered inside. I couldn't actually see anything through the dust and fingerprints that covered the doors, so I pulled at the handle - locked.

"Who the FUCK is that!?" A voice pierced the doors from inside. The doors shook a little bit as the hooligan inside pressed his crazed eyes up against the door to analyze the potential threat.

"Uhh...My name is Ronald...Are you closed? Or something?"

"...fucking...WHAT? You uh, you...you want pizza? Cheese pizza?"

"...uh...Yeah? Sure?"

"Uhh....Okay..."

The lock clicked from the inside and as the opaque glass doors flew open, a cockroach scurried out of the building. Very promising.

"...then, uh...come in. I guess..."

He soon sees the pizza delivery person approaching. In an instant, a large, balding man in dark suit and Hawaiian shirt detains the individual, apprehends the pizza box and sends a burning glare through his eyes and into his brain. He feels the intensity and the utmost desire to acquire his pizza. He is barely able to process the situation before all orifices of his apartment were overrun by armed, masked men. He wakes up in a dark room. He doesn't know where he is...but it smells of baked cheese, pepperoni and an overwhelming scent of heated, salted fish. Hope washes over him. The relief fades and he feels his senses are deceiving him when...

There I sat tapping the steering wheel. Cars slowly passed by rubbernecking me, nosey prick was a label I threw out with every eyes that met mine. I don't think I was speeding. My brake lights all work just fine. Maybe they knew something. An ocean of thoughts crashed through my mind as the officer slowly approached my car from the back. I stopped tapping my fingers, my eyes dart to the pizza bag, hope it stays warm.

The cop tapped on the glass, I rolled the window down using the crank; old car, shitty times. "License and registration." The officer said with routine.

"Was I speeding?" I nervously questioned.

"No. License and registration."

I reached to the cup holder, got my wallet from where I kept it next to my pack of smokes and green lighter. Took out my license, then immediately dug into my glove box for the registration. Soon as I found it, they were in the cop's hands. His partner crept to my car, creeping through the glass with his searchlight.

"Where are you coming from?" Asked the officer as he scanned my I.D.

"Juan's Pizzaria." I was nervous. Do they know? "I make deliveries for them. Pizza deliveries. I'm running late."

The second cop pointed his light on the pizza bag. They must've shared a strange look or something because the next thing I know is both cops reached for my door handles. "Get out of the vehicle." the first cop demanded. I unbuckled my seat belt and nervously I complied. I really hope this is over an unpaid ticket. The officer grabbed me by the arm pulling me out then he slammed me against my car with his nose almost kissing mine. "What kind of pizza? Don't lie."

I looked at them both before answering, "Cheese pizza."

"With or without the crust?" The second cop asked.

"I can't remember." My voice was cracking. They know. They must.

"Check it." The first cop ordered the second without breaking eye contact. I knew this is my chance. Now or never. There's no way I can do jail time for this nonsense. I wasn't the bad guy, just the guy hired to do a job. I don't ask questions. But they always gave me answers, "If you get stopped, just run," Running was all the answers they gave. Of course I knew my bosses had no problem with me running, but I don't know who the other person is I make the delivery to. They could be anyone. They could be killers. Jail wasn't so bad compared to an angry mafioso or a crazy guy from the cartel, but than again I was never intent on sleeping with one eye open next to a skinhead named Big Rick. Some nicknames I don't want to know the origin of.

The second cop leaned into the car. He unzipped the bag, "Holy shit." The first cop took his eyes off me and that's when I kneed him straight in the gonads. Down he fell like a rotten red wood, gasping in pain. I ran as far and as fast as I could while the other cop screamed for me to stop. I heard footsteps chasing me from behind. I ran and ran, and jumped over six fences before the footsteps stopped echoing behind me. I'm not scared to go back and tell them I lost the delivery, I'd be punished and in debt, maybe beaten up a little, who cares. Running is what they always told me. I'm scared the person who put it in the order will find out it was me who failed to make the delivery. I can't die just yet. Not until I fail out of college at least and my life goes to shit. I still have a bit to fall before I'm okay with death.

So I ran. I ran so far away. Maybe I can find another delivery job after the heat dies down.

[removed]

Ted finished reading off his credit card numbers to the guy on the other end of the line. "Now, you're ABSOLUTELY certain you want the cheese pizza with no crust?" he was asked again, for the third time. "Yes! My wife can't tolerate gluten, stop asking. Are you saying you can't make it? Because I'm sure someone can handle my order if you can't." The only reply was a grunt and the click of someone hanging up.

"Honey!" Ted yelled into the next room, "Honey, I'm not sure about this new pizza place. It's like they didn't even know what to do when I told them I wanted to pay with my card. Watch, this is going to take forever and not even be as good as your brother said. Why did we take his advice anyway? Something's wrong with that kid."

ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong

"All RIGHT! I get it! You're at the door, jesus, calm the fuck down. I can't teleport to it now can I? What, what do you want? A tip? That's not happening buddy, it's been TWO hours and this isn't even close to being hot. Not to mention the box is all banged up, what's that bulge there in the middle? Get the hell out of here, and hope I don't call the boss on you."

The large, neckless, and angry looking man who had shoved the misshapen package in his hands as soon as the door was open merely let out a familiar grunt before spinning on his heels and stalking off.

As Ted reached for the flap to open the undoubtedly horrible pizza, a scream came from the living room. "THEODORE JOSEPH WILLIAMS! Why the HELL is there a thirty-five thousand dollar charge on the Visa?!"

Wow, thanks for introducing me to this subreddit. I really love writing short stories with ridiculous plots, but I'm a bit lazy when it comes to starting. This will definitely help! Will be submitting something to you soon haha.

"I've got cheese pizza no crust, now give $25000." "$25000 FOR CHEESE PIZZA?!" "For kilo of coke, not bad deal. You take Coke or we have problem." "Yea. You see... Well, if you... The thing is... WHAT IN THE DAMN HELL!?!

Rorschach's Journal. May 30th, 2016.

Bird shit on ugly cars. The quiet desperation of daily chores and cheating on your worthless husband; untidy lawns. Mediocrity stinks worse than the foulest gutters of the city. I hate the suburbs. I hate retirement.

Once a man has seen society's black underbelly, he can never truly turn his back on it. Never pretend it doesn't exist.

'Cheese pizza with no crust.'

Good joke. Everybody laugh.

A flabby failure living in his mom's basement. Too old for soccer practice. Got into drugs, set up a deal; I was listening. Fate didn't set him on that path. I met him halfway.

Squealed a bit when I used the hammer. Wouldn't talk, didn't matter. Now he's dead.

Never compromise.

That order request would be a red flag to anyone listening anyway. You should pick a phrase that sounds more plausible. E.g. "Can I please have 3 small pizzas, 2 sides of ranch, and 1 breadsticks."