An open letter to The Pizza Boy.

August 3, 2008 at 12:53 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment
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Pizza Boy.
I think you work at Dominos. All Pizza companies run together in my mind.

You came to the house a month or more ago and I didn’t have enough money to pay you. I was babysitting and the mom hadn’t left me enough cash. I couldn’t even pay you from my own wallet because I hadn’t brought any money with me.

I was so embarrassed, my red face was probably registered as a red light source by scientists.
I was ready to pack up the kids and march you to my house, which was only a 80 second walk away, to raid our cash jar.

But you said it was Okay. Don’t worry about it.
I’ve been here before. you added. You probably thought I’d be eaten alive by the monsters that night anyway. Couldn’t take my money.

The kids were running around, kicking each other in the crotch – or something.
So I said, Thankyousomuch.

You probably had to pay for that pizza out of your pocket.
And I couldn’t even get you a tip.

I should have insisted you come to my house, monster children behind me and all.
Even if we were in a bloody snowstorm. You deserved that money.
Especially for what you did.

So here I am, thanking you.
I wish I had your name, so I could pay you back.

a little toothpastefordinner.


1 Comment »

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  1. awww I hope you get to see him again.

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