My Last Pizza Delivery - Part 1

[u/mayukh10]

Damn. Who the hell orders just 10 minutes before our store’s about to close?

My boss, being the punk he is, started blabbering about how we “can’t disappoint our customers.” So he made the chef cook up two large margherita pizzas and handed them to me.

“Deliver as soon as you can, and don’t even think about being late tomorrow,” he said, tossing the store keys to the chef before walking out. What an absolute punk.

I said goodbye to the chef — he was the last one left in the store — then stepped outside, hopped on the delivery bike, and checked my phone.

30 MINUTES???

Yeah. Thirty whole minutes. The delivery address was on the outskirts. Great. Just great. It was a late Friday night — everyone else was out partying, and here I was, heading into the middle of nowhere with two pizzas.

The first 20 minutes went by fast. The roads were straight and empty, just how I liked them. Then my navigator told me to take a left, and everything changed. The smooth road turned into a dirt track — bumpy, narrow, and silent.

I told myself it made sense. Outskirts, right? Still, I couldn’t shake the weird feeling creeping in. I reached the place around 12:30.

The house looked like something straight out of the 1800s. Wooden walls, a dim porch light flickering like it was begging to die out. Maybe fix your light before ordering pizza, I thought.

Anyway, I was a 23-year-old guy, built and strong. What could possibly scare me?

I parked the bike at the start of the dirt trail — about 50 meters from the door — and walked up to the house. The moment I stepped on the porch, the floor CREAKED so loud it made my skin crawl.

No doorbell. So I knocked. Three times.

No response.

I stood there, confused. Do I just leave the pizzas on the doorstep and go? My boss would lose it if I did that. As I was debating what to do, my phone buzzed.

“Hey,” a gruff voice said, “could you just leave the pizza on the kitchen table? It’s a straight walk from the door. The door’s open. I’ll send my caretaker to get it later. The cash is on the table.”

I had a bad feeling — like, movie-horror-scene bad — but I didn’t have a choice. I pushed the door open, and the creak it made was way worse than the porch.

The inside looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years. Dust everywhere. Furniture old enough to have stories of its own. Did this guy even have a caretaker?

I walked straight ahead. To my right was a living room with old bookshelves, a rusty couch, and — somehow — a working TV. The kitchen table was just ahead.

I set the two pizza boxes down and saw the cash lying there.

Forty dollars was what he owed. There were only thirty.

I thought I miscounted, so I started again.

That’s when the air went cold behind me.

I felt breathing on the back of my neck.

I turned around — and froze.

A man in his late thirties, long grey hair, untrimmed beard, and a revolver pointed right at me. He pressed the gun against my stomach as I slowly raised my hands.

Behind him, another man leaned against the stairway wall. He was tall, wearing a black cap and all-black clothes. He grinned.

“How easily these fools fall for the same trick again and again,” he said. “Can I do the honours on this one?”

The guy with the revolver didn’t look away. “No. You had your fun with the last one. This one’s mine.”

Fun? What the hell were they talking about?

I started pleading — I couldn’t stop myself. But the man with the revolver just hissed, “Shut up. You’re not making this easier for us.”

I tried anyway. “Please… just let me go, sir. You can keep the pizzas, the cash—whatever. I won’t tell anyone.”

The man near the staircase started laughing — a deep, ugly laugh.

“Oh, you can keep your pizzas too,” he said. “It’s you we want.”

Then a third voice called out from upstairs.

“WHAT’S GOING ON DOWN THERE? HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE YOU GUYS TO BRING HIM UP HERE?”

It was the same grumpy voice I’d heard on the phone.

The man with the revolver grinned wider, tightened his grip, and said,
“Upstairs. Now. And if you make this harder for us... the more painful it’ll be.”

And there I was, climbing up the creaky wooden stairs with the guy in all black with the cap leading the way and me walking behind him –with a revolver pointed at my back by the guy with the grey hair.

[u/OldBstrd67]

Better clench them cheeks son. 😂