Fat Pizza Pizzas - They're Big And They're Cheesy!

by TAFKA




Andrea stood with the phone cradled between her ear and her shoulder. 'I'll have one mouthwatering meaty madness with extra bacon.'

'That'll come to $15.95 delivered. And watch out for the delivery driver, he's a jittery bastard. Keeps coming back from deliveries spouting something about sexy Martians trying to steal his skin or something.'

'K. Will do.'




Artie picked up the order ticket and checked the address. He went over to the map board and determined the best route, allowing for time, traffic, and - of course, alien encounters.

He sidled over to Maertin, who was busily removing pizzas from the oven and carving them into eight proportional slices.

'It's not done yet.'

Leonard, the night manager, was always on his back to be doing something while he was waiting for pizzas to deliver. He kept saying something about time and money and him not being worth the $4 an hour they paid him to drive around.

Artie shrugged it off and meandered towards Elissa.




Elissa sighed noisily. Yet again, she was on until close, which meant dealing with all kinds of creeps before the night was done. She had the sensation of someone standing directly behind her, which always got on her nerves - particularly after a long night.

She shrugged. It was probably just the annoying conspiracy geek again. Or some serial killer type.

'Are you going to grab a towel and help me or not?' she said as she slammed a pizza lid down heavily into the dish drainer, splashing Artie with greasy suds.

Artie picked up a towel and started sloppily wiping the lid. He twittered nervously. 'You know, I've had some really weird customers tonight...'

'Piss off Artie.'

'But I thought I was supposed to help?'

'I don't want to talk to you now. I'm busy. Go talk to Linda.'




Artie shrugged and walked over to despatch. Maertin looked up from the large pan Hawaiian he was deftly flicking into the pizza box.

'It'll be another ten minutes Artie. Find something to do or Leonard's going to have your arse. And don't keep bugging the girls on make-bench. You know you're on your last warning as it is. Why don't you just go fold up some more boxes and I'll get one of the girls to let you know when your delivery is ready.'

Artie dodged the hot pan as it was skillfully flung beneath the bench into a pile of its cooling sisters. He hung about for a moment, until Maertin gave him a 'look', then dawdled over to Linda, who was trying to teach the new fourteen year old Sharni the basics of pizza making, without much success.




Linda looked up from her conversation, grateful for the distraction. Her face dropped as she realised she'd gone from bad to worse.

None of the staff much liked Artie. Most of the staff disliked one another as it was, but they all were brought together by their mutual loathing of the delivery staff. And everyone rallied against Artie. She supposed he wasn't so bad a person, but his voice grated on her, and his puppy-dog keenness to share every moldy bone of conspiracy trivia with her drove her to considering justifiable homicide. She glanced over to the sink, where Elissa was stationed tonight.

Elissa gave her a nervous smile.

Linda mouthed back at her 'You are going to pay. Don't know when. But you are.'

Elissa twitched and went back to her mindless drudgery.

Artie noticed the exchange, and backed off slowly before Linda could focus her attention back on him. He walked back to despatch, to find that the pizza was almost ready to go.




Maertin flicked the Triple M into the waiting box, folded the lid down with practiced skill, and placed the extra garlic bread in its own specially printed promotional paper bag.

'She's ready to go Artie.'




Artie pocketed the docket, and tucked the pizza and the bonus extra garlic bread for the very special repeat customer into the heat-bag. He started towards the door when Leonard growled at him.

'This pizza is for one of our best customers. She orders a Triple M with extra bacon every Friday without fail. We want her to continue to order her Triple M with extra bacon every Friday night. So... DONT. MESS. THIS. UP!'

'K.' Artie mumbled meekly as he walked out to his car.




Artie pulled over and pulled out his torch, double-checking the address on his docket.

He picked up the order, and nervously made his way to the house. He inhaled nervously, repeating the mantra 'Don't mess this up. Repeat customer. Don't mess this up.'

Shaking, he rang the doorbell.




Artie screamed as Andrea answered the door.

'What?'

'You're the first human I've delivered to all night.'