GeniusOTU

"C'mon, c'mon." Artie juggled the pizza box up in down in his arms. The thing was so freaking hot! But then again, having a pizza made with peppers, extra cheese, pepperoni, and God knew what else, would cause a pizza to be extremely hot. Artie had learned this through his proud three years as a pizza boy.
Artie then rang the doorbell again, struggling with the steaming pizza box in his arms. Nobody, amazingly enough answered. Artie hoped that it wasn't some idiot jocks playing a prank on him- calling in an order (especially a rather ridiculous one and this particular order was no exception), then giving a false address for the delivery. Artie hoped this wasn't the case.
Artie juggled the pizza box in his arms once more. He hated the night time. Especially the night sky, it reminded him of the aliens that had been his fear and fascination since early childhood. Artie knew that one of the ordeals of being a pizza boy was the willingness to go out on night orders which were often common.
He reached from out under his arms and was about to ring the doorbell once more when the large white door opened. Behind the door stood a red haired teenager (much like himself, thought Artie) in the typical geek/preppie ensemble- dress shirt, cargo pants, etc.
"You're the pizza man, right?" The guy asked.
Artie impatiently nodded. Who did this kid think he was? It was dangerous to be outside at night... The aliens... The aliens... "Yeah, uh, the order comes to $14.89." The guy handed Artie a ten and five dollar bill, grabbed the pizza box, and then he shut the door.
Of course he shut the door. Artie sighed. All this crap he had to put up with... Oy vay! He still couldn't believe he had gotten a decent tip. Artie decided to get a little retribution from the preppie boy. He swung his leg at the now shut white door. Oh God, he hoped he wouldn't get fired...

Charles sighed. Of course he had forgotten the tip! Oh well, the pizza man was gone. He shrugged. What to do? Charles had often been alone in his house, but had yet to master the art of curing tedium. Once more, he shrugged. He hated being alone, he hated being rejected by girls, and he was pretty sure he hated his father.
His dad was often gone on business trips (whether they were that or not, Charles wasn't sure) since his mom had died. Charles Jr. had often acted as if Charles's mother had never existed.
Charles wandered over to the kitchen and set the pizza down on the counter. Something wasn't right... By some feeling of gut, Charles wandered over to the front door and pulled it open. There was a big gray streak on the usually pearl white door. Probably courtesy of the pizza man. Fabulous.
Then Charles smiled. His father would hate having a part of his "perfect" house ruined. And no matter what the status of your relationship with your parents is, annoying them is always a very satisfying thing indeed. Charles silently thanked the pizza boy, wherever he was...

Okay, I hope that wasn't too lengthy or too short. Peace out.