It was a small order, a couple sandwiches, some chips, a soda.
The total was $15.80., a credit card order, the address was in the 'hood.
I arrive at the door, pound on the door and wait. A large woman comes
to the door and asks where she should sign.
"I'll need to see your credit card and your I.D., please" I say.
"Ummmm....ahhh...." she gives me the same look nearly every customer
gives me when they don't have the goods, the loss of eye contact, the
lifting of the head, the hand going up.
"It's my boyfriends card....ahh, he...he just left...." she stammers.
"Is he going to be gone long? I can come back if--"
"No, no.... he went to work. He won't be back for awhile. He
went to work" she explains.
"Hurry up! Hurry the fuck up!" a loud male voice booms from inside the house.
"Can you pay in cash?" I ask.
"Ahhh... no, I ain't got any cash".
"What the fuck is the problem? Hurry up!" the voice from inside yells again.
"Sorry" I say and walk back to my car.
I get into my car only somewhat defeated, this type of shit happens all the time.
I start the Pizzacar and drive off. I'm about 8 blocks away when I spot a car in
my rear view mirror weaving through traffic, passing people on the right,
honking his horn.
I'm thinking, who the fuck is this, Popeye Doyle?
The car, a Hyundai with one side totally smashed in, pulls even with me and I
see the driver, a man, yelling and waving his arms.
"Go back! Go back! Bring that sandwich back, motherfucker!" he screams.
I recognize the voice. It was the one coming from inside of the house.
"Gimme my food!" he demands at 25 mph.
"You got the money?" I yell back.
"Yeah" he replies.
"Pull over here" I tell him, pointing to the side of the street.
We pull over, the guy jumps out of his car and runs up to my window.
"Gimme my food. Why'd you leave?"
"Because the woman said she didn't have a credit card or any money"
"How much is it?" he says, pulling cash from his pocket.
He turns around so I can't see his loot.
"I got 14 dollars" he shoves a wad of cash at me "Close enough, right?"
"Nope" I say "You're a buck-eighty short."
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash, at least another $25.
He thrusts two more dollars at me.
I hand him the bags.
He runs back to his car, starts it, peels out, blows a red light and is gone.
Damn, he must of really wanted that sandwich.
Bring that sandwich back, motherfucker!