The exercise:
Write about: the pizza party.
Bakery was feeling pretty relaxed this morning. It's not hard to see that the bakers are feeling less stressed out these days, and the flow of customers is so much more manageable for everybody. I was up front by myself until 11 and I only really needed help from the back a couple of times.
Day off tomorrow, more or less, and then I'll be going to my final farmers market of the year on Saturday to try to sell some Ambrosia apples.
Next week I'll be working 8 until close at the bakery Wednesday to Saturday, and then the following week I'll be working for the town Tuesday to Friday, 9:30 to 1:30.
Busy days ahead.
As usual.
Mine:
"What... what is going on here?"
"Oh, hi Mr. Hillman. Bobby will be so pleased when I tell him his teacher made it to his birthday party!"
"Yes, of course. It's my pleasure Mrs. Decker. But... I'm not sure I understand what it is that I'm looking at."
"Didn't Bobby tell you it was a pizza party?"
"He did, but I didn't imagine... this."
"Yes, well, he really does love pizza."
"But where are the plates?"
"Bobby would like everyone to put their slices on another slice and use them just like plates."
"I see. And the cups?"
"... we're still trying to figure out a way to use a slice for a cup that doesn't end up spilling juice all over the place."
"Right. Right. I think I'll just assume that I should avoid the bathroom then."
"That's probably wise, Mr. Hillman."
2 comments:
I sometimes think you sound busier these days than when you had a 9-5 job. Is that true? Or is there just more variety and interest? I sometimes think I'd like a 9-5 job too, but then I wonder what I'd do with all that free time.
That's a lot of pizza in your story, I find myself alternating between impressed and nauseated. I am still trying to figure out how to use the pizza slice to hold orange-juice as well, so you've caught my imagination... but maybe in the wrong way? Either way, your little scene reeks of chaos and peperoni, and I am very amused by it :)
The pizza party
The doorbell rang, two quick buzzes followed by a sustained one. Dan hit pause on the remote and froze the film, grabbed his wallet from the table and hurried to the front-door. The hall was short and made to feel larger by the full-length mirror at the end, so as usual he nearly turned the wrong way to the reflection of the front door.
"Pizza!" said the pizza boy. He was smiling his usual blank, spaced smile, and smelled of autumn bonfires. "Extra-large. You having a party?" There was a note of optimism in his voice, and Dan smiled despite himself. He handed over the money, opened the lid and took a slice out. "Yours," he said. The pizza boy's face lit up.
He closed the door and turned to go back to the film. At the end of the hallway he saw himself with the pizza, and the pizza-boy looking over his shoulder. Puzzled he turned back, thinking he was sure that he'd closed the door behind him.
He had.
He turned again, wondering if he'd just imagined things, but there was the pizza box, there was himself, and behind him was the pizza boy, standing in a rectangle of darkness. He looked over his shoulder: door still closed. He backed up, chills making his spine tingle, until he could feel the door pressed against his back and made himself look in the mirror again. It was surprisingly hard to lift his eyes.
The pizza boy stepped out from behind him and walked towards him. He stretched his hands out and they pressed against the glass on the wrong side of the mirror. He was blocking Dan's view of himself now; there was only a corner of the pizza box visible.
"You having a party, bro?" The boy's words were slurred and resonated with vibrato. Dan could see the skin of his palms turning white as it pressed, impossibly, against the glass. "Pizza party, bro?"
Dan's legs felt cold and stiff and he desperately wanted to put the pizza down; the box was starting to burn his hands and arms. He didn't dare open the front-door just in case the pizza boy was out there too, so he forced himself to go into the living room, hugging the wall and staying as far from the mirror as he could get. "You having a party, bro?" asked the mirror boy again as he got inside and put the box down on the table. He slammed the living room door and dragged an armchair across to block it. Then he sat down as far across the room as he could, his heart pounding in his chest and cold sweat sluicing down his whole body.
After a couple of minutes he had himself back under control. Clearly he'd imagined it all; whatever the kid had been smoking must have just tweaked him a little. He smiled, just a little nervously, and opened the pizza box. He'd move the armchair later.
He heard the sound of a heavy impact and the glass in the hallway mirror shattering.
Greg - well, it's definitely less structured. It can be tricky to plan around, especially with the on call work. Plus, during the summer, it's hard to be completely done with work, what with the farm being right here.
Ha, glad you liked it :)
That... well, I shouldn't have read that right before bed. It's excellent, just for the record. Unsettlingly top notch stuff.
Still wish I'd stopped at the last post tonight though...
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