Ice, Ice BabySeptember 28, 2007 at 6:43 PM | Posted in Journal | 3 Comments
It was back in about nineteen and 86 or 87. I was delivering for Domino’s Pizza. It was January, I reckon. A cold rain turned to ice, and left everything looking like a glazed donut. It was very slick, and very dangerous.
So of course all the assholes ordered pizza.
It had warmed up to where the salted streets were clear, but sidewalks and driveways were ideal places to dislocate a hip.
I had a delivery in Castle Point, a big neighborhood of tiny houses. It was a mixed neighborhood, and crappy. Now, twenty years later, it’s all black and crappy. Forty years ago, it was all white and crappy. . .. Thusly, have I digressed.
I get to the house, and I have to walk up the driveway. The woman is standing behind the storm door, waiting, watching. I proceed carefully up the driveway, picking my footing. Suddenly, I slip.
I fall down hard, legs up in the air, flat on my back, after bouncing hard on my shoulder against the car in the driveway.
The pizzas, safe in their insulated bag, did a triple half gainer and landed on the ground next to me.
I didn’t see the woman’s face when I fell, but I can imagine it. She’s thinking lawsuit, insurance, and Oh, my God!
I get up slowly, limping on my shoulder. Shut up. I pick the hot bag up and expertly flip it over, and slowly make my way to the door.
She has her hand over her mouth to display astonishment. She says to me, "Are you okay?"
My concern was more about the pizzas. Was she going to refuse them? I wouldn’t get tipped or paid, and may have to come back out with free ones. This was going to be a shitty night.
I said in answer, "Well, let’s look at the pizzas," as if to say, *how I feel will be determined by whether or not you take the pies.*
So as I open the box and we look at them just as her husband walks up behind her. He has no idea what has transpired, just that we are looking at the pies.
We look at the pizza, we look at each other. A hand tossed crust pepperoni pizza is a remarkable achievement in human engineering. The thing is tough. It looked perfect. They should tile the space shuttle with these things.
The woman says, "It looks fine–"
And her husband says, "They look burnt."
We both turn and glare at him. He adds quickly, "But we’ll take them."