Alan leans into the driver’s side window. “I appreciate the invite Mike, but I didn’t have time for lunch today and I’m starving.”
“Awright bro, go get your grub on.”
What’s this? Pretty package, professionally wrapped. Huh, light weight. He turns the package slowly as if he’s doing a Rubik’s Cube. Probably for Denise. Smells righteous. That’s just my stomach sending that hungry message to the brain.
Alan sets the package on the table and opens the fridge. The aroma from the package fills the entire room. He looks at the package again, no postmark. Denise’s name is not on it, could be for me. The smell is overwhelming. He sits at the kitchen table and begins to unwrap it.
Like Palov’s dog, drool oozes from his mouth.
A pizza? Who would … why would someone wrap a pizza like a birthday gift? The aroma flies up his nose and he can almost taste the cheese and toppings. My favorites jalapeno peppers, pineapples, and mushrooms. How did they know? Maybe this is a new terrorist tactic, attack the infidels favorite food. Where’s my food taster when I need him?
The phone rings.
“Hello? There was a pizza on your doorstep? It’s good too? Cool, Mike that all I need to know.”
© 2016, charles stone. All rights reserved.
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