Don’t Mess With My Dinner

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I ordered a pizza one day last week with a “plan-ahead” order.

I know what you’re thinking: Me? Plan ahead? That’s crazy talk! But on this occasion I did.

Amazing, huh?

But I digress…

The pizza was supposed to be delivered at 5:30. By about five p.m. I was getting hungry, and at 5:30 I was looking out the screen door every five minutes to see if the pizza guy had arrived yet.

At 5:45 I looked out and saw the Papa John’s delivery car parked on the street. “Yes!” I thought. “Finally!”

Then I saw the delivery guy walking BACK to his car from my next-door neighbor’s house. With an EMPTY insulated delivery bag!

“Oh no,” I thought. “Oh no no no no no. The neighbors STOLE my PIZZA! And I’m flipping STARVING!!”

I thought about how I’d have to point out to the delivery guy his mistake, and how he’d have to go all the way BACK down to the Papa John’s store and get me a new pizza. Which would take FOREVER. (Did I mention I was hungry?)

Then I thought about the neighbors eating MY pizza. Grrrr. I envisioned walking next door and confronting them, ripping my six-cheese-thin-crust right out of their greasy little hands. 

And then… Oh joy of joys!!… The guy took a new, FULL, insulated delivery bag from the back of his car. He waved cheerily at me, fortunately unable to see my glowering face through the screen door.

I hopped out there as quick as a rabbit with my new, happy, I’m-getting-to-eat-finally face on. Yay for dinner!

The neighbors are lucky they didn’t steal my pizza.

You mess with my food, I will cut you.

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