His name, I believe, was Robert. Well, I lied. Forgive me. I didn't ask his name. He arrived thirty-nine minutes after I hung up the phone, ending the call with the nice young lady who assured me that the tasty bastard of a pie I ordered would be waiting outside my front door in thirty-FIVE minutes. I would have paid anyway, but I'm a firm believer in ethics, including the work kind. I refused to pay for the pizza, and needless to say, refused to tip the boy who brought it four minutes late. I hope they won't be too hard on him. Oh, I also spoke with his manager, who I have thoroughly convinced that the boy reeked of questionable substances! I know that lying is frowned upon, but I think that allowing the boy to get less punishment than he deserved would be a much heavier load on my conscience in the long run. Again, though, I hope they aren't TOO hard on him. Pray, my friends, if you've ever brought consequences on yourself that you thought you could handle, only to find out that the bite you took came from the dinner of a seriously sadistic sombitch.
I'll be getting back to my [four minutes colder than I expected, plus the time it took me to type this compassionate piece of work up] pizza. I'll be eating the whole thing. Myself.
I'll be getting back to my [four minutes colder than I expected, plus the time it took me to type this compassionate piece of work up] pizza. I'll be eating the whole thing. Myself.
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