Destination/Drop Off (Story 1)
I pulled in front of Antica Pizzeria and parked my father's gray Toyota Tacoma. It was midnight.
I looked through the customer’s note that said I needed to go inside and pick up two medium pizzas, and that the order would pay me seven bucks when I completed it. I accepted the order when Carl, the customer, assured me that he’d pay me an extra twenty bucks in cash after I delivered it. I wasn’t going out for seven bucks, but twenty-seven? Make it worth my trip, Carl, and I’ll bring your pizza!
The strong scent of cigar smoke hit my nose when I entered the restaurant. There were no customers, either because of how late it was, or how shitty the place was: tables full of empty plates, and as dirty a floor as I’d ever seen. The woman behind the counter reminded me of Aileen Wuornos: dirty yellow teeth, face made up like a street prostitute, and it was her responsible for the cigar smoke. As I walked toward her, I told her I was there for a DoorDash order.
“Name?”
“For Carl,” I said and showed her the customer’s name on my phone.
She went to the kitchen and then immediately came back with two boxes of pizza. I thanked her as I pressed the pick-up button on the app, which then gave me directions to Carl’s address. The destination was only six minutes away.
“Be careful out there, and have a good night,” the woman said.
I turned my head and nodded. Once I got inside the Toyota, I put on a playlist of heavy metal music from my phone because the CD player in the truck is shit.
I was a minute away from Carl’s address when I entered the mobile home neighborhood and saw a police car parked in the manager's parking spot. As I kept driving, I began to tremble a bit, and slowed to below the speed limit, not only due to my recently suspended license, but also because I saw a group wandering around in the road who all looked to be under ten, and neighbors were starting a street fight. It was clear this place was a freak show.
Once I arrived at Carl’s, I looked around before getting out of the truck. I heard a woman sobbing, her angry spouse beating her, and the sound of infants crying in horror from the next mobile home. I exited the truck holding Carl’s pizzas and a pocketknife I keep for protection. I heard rap music mumbling in front of me as I rang the doorbell. The music stopped abruptly, and Carl opened the door. He was a large, bald, muscular guy with piercings all over his face, wearing only a white tank top and red boxers. He gave me a frowning look, which I figured could be because I was late. He aggressively snatched the two boxes from my hands, causing two slices to fall to the ground. I put my foot in the door before he could slam it.
“Hold it, hold it, where’s the extra tip you texted you would give me?”
“Extra tip? Motherfucker, I don’t owe you shit. Just because I said it doesn’t mean I would.”
Before he slammed the door on me, I pushed it weakly, attempting to threaten him with my tiny knife. I was using all my strength to try and keep the door open when Carl stepped back and let it swing open wide, causing me to fall into his home. I went to the floor and he began kicking me in the abdomen, then lifted me, shoving me out onto his shitty porch before punching me in the nose, causing a huge amount of blood to stream from both nostrils. He lifted me again.
“If you ever do that shit again, I will break your fucking head!” He hurled me onto his broken wooden staircase. As I got up, I took off my sweater to cover the blood from my nose, and, still holding the knife, I ran to my truck, jumped in, and rushed out of the neighborhood.
