Special Delivery

February 5, 2012
Last stop of the night and I was ready to get home. I grabbed the big red bag that kept the pizza snuggly warm and headed up the driveway. The house was a large dark Victorian on the top of a steep hill, seperating it from the rest of the neighborhood.

A chill ran up my spine as I rapped on the door. This was the kind of place where terrible things always happened in slasher movies. This thought was even more in my mind as the door slid open and I was greeted by a bald freaky looking little man whose left eye was much larger than his right.

"Are you the pizza delivery boy?" he asked, his voice eery and disturbing. You'd think he would know that I was the pizza boy considering that I was standing on his stoop in a Pizza Bucket uniform and holding a large pizza box.

"Yes. I have a large mango brocolli pizza for you. It'll be $14.78." His brow furrowed and his eyes darkened.

"Of course," he hissed. "I'll be right back." He turned and headed through a door to the left. I waited a few minutes, still creeped out, glancing around nerously. I heard his footsteps coming back to the door. I looked up and saw him swing something at me - felt pressure on my head. Then everything went black.

I awoke a while later and blinked my vision clear. I looked around and found that I was tied to a wooden chair in what appeared to be a basement. The creepy little man was sitting in a large velvet chair on the other side of the room, eating his pilfered pizza.

After a few moments he noticed I was no longer unconscious. He slid from his seat, still munching on a slice, and walked over to me.

"So," he said, stretching out a long strand of cheese and biting it in the middle, "you thought you could bamboozle me didn't you Roger?"

"My name is Carl." He threw down his pizza and pointed at me angrily.

"Stop bamboozling me Roger! You tried to make me pay for this pizza!"

"That's my job. You order the pizza, I bring the pizza, and then you pay for it."

"Don't tell me how it works Roger! I know how it works!"

"Dude, chill out. My name's Carl."

"Bamboozler!" he cried, running for the pizza box. "How do I even know that this is actually pizza?!" He grabbed the box and flung the pizza across the room. He began climbing onto different pieces of furniture and jumping into the air, flapping his arms and quacking like a duck.

After a few minutes he calmed down, and picked up a shoebox from a nearby shelf. He lifted the lid and pulled out a square piece of red paper. He sat it on top of my head and stared at me expectantly.

"What are you waiting for?" he demanded. I looked at him, dumbfounded.

"What are you talking about you weirdo?"

"Make an origami crane!"

"I can't."

"Why not?!"

"I'm tied to a chair."

"LIES! Why do you lie to me Roger?"

"Dude, you tied me to this chair. You see me tied to this chair. How can you deny it?" He rubbed at his chin.

"Perhaps you are right Roger. Perhaps you are right." He picked up a sheet of newspaper, and very carefully folded himself a paper hat and then tried it on, examining it in a mirror.

"This is the perfect accessory," he said very seriously. "Not only is it a hat, but it can be easily turned into a tiny boat. You simply take it off your head, and place it in a nearby body of water such as a pond or possibly a large puddle."

"Bro, can I go? I got stuff to do tomorrow."

"Very well Roger." He untied my ropes and led me back to the front door. "I'll see you tomorrow." He handed me twenty dollars and shoved me out into the darkness, slamming the door.

I rubbed at my sore head as I head for my truck.

"Man, I gotta stop delivering to this guy."

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