Link to article: Pizza Delivery on 123 Spook Street.
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[[include :scp-wiki:theme:halloween]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] Bullshit. Everyone's getting laid, drunk, or high tonight. Even those fucking tykes are getting candy at least. Not me, I'm stuck with delivery, chauffering pizza to all the parties around town like a loser. My next house seems fine though, just a mom and her daughter. The little girl's dressed like one of those Disney princesses, though I can't tell which one. It's a shame, it's the scariest day of the year and she's doing corporate dress-up. If it weren't for this stupid job I'd probably be handing out candy, and scaring kids with my Jason mask. But no, I'm here, bringing this woman her pizza. I step out of the car, getting a gasp of fresh air while I can, and reach into the backseat for the box with their address. Once I find it I bring it to the mother, she and her girl are sitting at a folding table with a pumpkin-shaped bucket filled with candy. "Here ya go. this'll be fifteen dollars and twenty-four cents." In the most polite tone of voice I can muster in these conditions. "Oh! Hello, my wallet's back inside. Would you mind if I went to get it?" "That's perfectly fine, Ma'am." Obviously. I'm not leaving without getting paid. "Okay, I'll be right back. You should head inside too, Josie, it's getting a bit cold out." The kid harumphed and went with her mom inside. The front door exposes the cold darkness outside to warm light from within. Taking advantage of the circumstances, I take a piece of candy from the bucket. Seems like a piece of chocolate. I pocket it right before the door opens back up. The mom steps out, play-fighting the daughter to keep her in. With the theatrics done, she walks up to me and holds up a few dollar bills. I take them, replacing them with the pizza box. "You're welcome to keep the change!" She hollers at me while taking the food back inside. I take a look at what she handed me and count up sixteen dollars. I could already feel the seventy-six cents burning a hole in my pocket. Speaking of pocket, I grab a few more pieces of chocolate from the bucket, that's what you get for not putting up a take one sign. @@@@ @@@@ ---- @@@@ @@@@ Back on the road, stuck with the choking scent of grease and marinara, with just a horrible hint of pineapple. My next stop is a ways away, on the other side of the city. With my phone preoccupied with GPS duties, I'm stuck with the rotten zombie of radio. Men who couldn't tell you what a podcast was at gunpoint tell me how the youth have gone soft, instead of the more sensible thing, shutting up and playing music. Their current topic was the holiday, and how kids don't have access to good scares anymore, one man who sounds like his half filled with snot says that there hasn't been a good scary movie released since 1999. At that, I turn the damned thing off. I don't need my brain rotting along with theirs. It's ten minutes of silence later when I hit the next house, tall, dark, and old. I get a feeling that this house predates all of my living relatives. I give the building in front of me a solid few seconds of awe before getting the pizzas. On the way to the door, I can't help but appreciate the decorations on the way, whoever the owner is, they sure know how to celebrate the holidays! Those gravestones look almost real! I balance two pizza boxes on my right hand and knock quickly to return the boxes to both hands. It takes a second but I begin to hear footsteps, and soon, the door opens. The door-opener is dressed as a skeleton, and is stunning with how realistic the costume is. "That's gonna be twenty-eight dollars and ninety-three cents." "Hm? Oh, I'll be right back, I don't really carry money with me." "That's fine sir, I'll be right here. That's a pretty nice costume, super realistic!" He closes the door soon after I stop talking, and is gone for a whole minute. Hopefully, he'll give me a tip, payback for the compliment. I can hear footsteps again. He's opening the door... "Here you go." in his bony hand is a wad of cash and loose change. I trade the boxes and cash with practiced motions, taking more care with the stack of boxes. once it's done, he closes the door. On the way back to the car I check the money he handed me, $28.93 exactly. Cheap skele-bastard. @@@@ @@@@ ---- @@@@ @@@@ A much shorter trip, helped by the fact the radio stations have wisened up and started playing music. It's a few winding roads, some made of dirt shaking the car around like its life depended on it. Where the roads lead me leaves my jaw hanging. Black shingled spires rising out of the ground like thorns. Granite tombstones give off an appearance like teeth in an animal's mouth, waiting to bite. I check my phone to see if this was the right address, only for it to be confirmed. This was a new house. I park in front of the driveway. This place just got one pizza, but they also went crazy with the breadsticks. They need the massive bag we typically use for our four-pizza party pack. The gravestones here are fine, but the fake webs and spiders make it seem like they're trying a bit too hard. With one hand holding the box and the other, a garbage bag of breadsticks, I have to get creative with knocking. One kick to the door later, it opens up. I almost begin telling the price before I see who opened the door, the skeleton. It takes a bit too long for me to compose myself. The skeleton has his arms crossed, wallet in one of his hands, clearly waiting for the price. "Oh, uh, thirty-nine dollars exactly. That's a pretty spooky costume you got there, make it yourself?" "Mhm." He fishes more cash out of his wallet and hands it over to me. In order to grab it, I have to hand over the box, then give him the bag. I end up making it more complicated than it needed to be though and feel like I wasted my time. Before I can say anything else, he practically slams the door on me. I know the answer before I look, but I can't stop myself. Thirty. Nine. Dollars. @@@@ @@@@ ---- @@@@ @@@@ I'm on the pavement once again, at a reasonable 5 miles over the speed limit. More smoke is coming out of my ears than the truck in front of me, and my face is as red as... well also the truck in front of me. There isn't a lot of red stuff in front of me at the moment. The sun is past setting and it's getting darker, so I'm forced to turn on my headlights so I don't run into... I don't know, the truck or whatever. Eventually, I turn into a nice looking neighborhood. Kids have stopped trick-or-treating and the road is lit up by light from TVs spilling through windows. It starts to cool my nerves to see- "MOTHER //FUCKER!//" IT'S THE FUCKING HOUSE. //AGAIN.// A reasonable five turns into an egregious twenty over the speed limit as I rush to a dumb-looking house on the corner. When I reach the house, I practically kick my door open. The other door is yanked so hard that for a brief second my anger switches to panic until I realize that I didn't break anything. I take out another pizza box and slam both doors shut. The way to the door is more like a march than a walk. I look at all the crappy, styrofoam gravestones with dumb, animatronic zombie hands coming out of the ground and scowl. I punch the door when I get to it, //as if that's what I want to punch.// The skeleton is quicker this time, as if he was waiting for me. "It's eleven forty-five." I'm trying to control myself, but if this bastard makes one wrong move I know I'm going to snap. "Thanks." "Fuck off." The skeleton looks taken aback a little as- //ooooooh fuck.// what did I just say. I seem to have gotten the attention of one of the people at this party, some guy in a fursuit who was talking to someone in what was the worst Frankenstein make-up I have ever seen. The skeleton reaches into his wallet and pulls out a ten dollar bill and hands it to me. I sheepishly accept the money and give him the pizza. He closes the door slowly, looking dead at me the whole time. The way back to the car is a march no longer, merely a trudge. @@@@ @@@@ ---- @@@@ @@@@ I don't waste my time on this one, the first thing I do is look up the address of the next house. //I fucking called it!// Same house, same yard. He's not making an ass out of me this time. I'm going home, nights over. @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ Though it //is// the last house on the list, I can't quit now. Besides, if I blow this one off I'll find myself in hot water with my boss. I ride off towards the next house, back at five over. I take a deep breath in and smell it, the pineapple. I turn off the radio, I need silence for this. Powered by a pure determination to get this over with, I ride on. I see the house now, the black spires, the gravestones, and pump myself up for what's to come. It's muscle memory now, I step out, take the pizza out, and walk to the door. I pay the decorations no mind as I knock on the door. It opens slowly, revealing the skeleton bit by bit. "Thirte-" "I'm not paying for that," The skeleton said in a monotone voice. "What." Also monotone. "You told me to 'fuck off' last time. I'm not paying you after that." "The money goes to the company, I just get tips. You didn't give me any of those before I yelled at you anyways." "I'm not paying a company that hires anyone like you either. Give me the pizza and fuck off. " That is it. I've had enough of this boney ass-hat. I wind back and sock him in the jaw. After it connects, I see the skull come clean off, landing ten feet behind him. The bones in front of me crumple into a pile. A second passes and I become aware of how quiet it has become. Without looking up, I can tell that everyone inside is looking at me. I gently lay the pizza box down on the pile of bones, and slowly close the door. Once I hear the door click shut, I run to the car as fast as I can and speed off before putting on the seatbelt. I think back to the skeleton, and how realistic his costume was. How real the gravestones looked. How were there that many houses that looked identical? Did that fursuit bare its fangs at me? As I thought about all of this, I felt a crushing fear overwhelm me as I realized something. "I'm so fucking fired." [[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box-end]]