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Requital

I had been working at the Pizza Palace for a year and a half as a delivery driver in a big snazzy college town. I had to go in to work at about four or five p.m., almost everyday. This was about the time I was lifting my hung over head out of bed in a dazed haze. I hadn't had a raise since I'd been working there.

The manager's name was Gary. We had a mutual hatred and disgust for each other. He threatened me all the time, saying, "your time is coming, one more fuck up, and you are gone."

I didn't really care. It was just a silly game, these jobs were a dime a dozen. I had been written up two times for calling in sick, and being late for work or something. One more write up, and I would be history from Pizza Palace.

Gary had a greasy slick looking pubic hair styled - black mustache, which he was always stroking with his pepperoni fingers. He also had big puffy feathered hair, parted in the middle and all. He looked like your typical fast food restaurant manager. I suppose his image went along with the shiny new sports car he was leasing. The guy was a true jackass, full of his own ego and responsible managerial ethics.

They made us wear puke green brown uniforms, with nametags. They wouldn't allow us to grow facial hair. The long hairs that worked there had to rubber band their precious locks up in a ponytail, then scrunch it all up in their Pizza Palace hats. We had to tuck our shirts in. Gary was real big on that one. He loved walking around all night, pointing at your mid section and saying, "TUCK!" The cooperate company had many rules and regulations, such as; "The customer is always right."

I say fuck that. Many times the customer is wrong. Sometimes I wanted to smash the customer's face in to a spicy tomato sauce pulp.

I had a plan. Yes indeed, did I ever have a plan for my revenge on corporate Pizza Palace. I also had a crew of willing insane companions, who would help me carry out this masterpiece of revenge.

Let's meet my gang, shall we?

We had Bill. Bill was a college drop out in his late thirties. He reeked of this mysteriously sickening body odor, which you could smell from a mile away. It was like nothing I had ever smelled before, and I'd smelled death many times, as a junior college paramedic student working on ambulances and in emergency rooms.

Bill had been there five years without a raise from the minimum wage. Bill and me drank whiskey together occasionally. Fellow workers at the Pizza Palace couldn't believe I hung out with 'Stinky Bill', as he was nick named. But I liked the guy. He was real. He hated the world, the mostly phony people in it, and himself for the most part. He made me laugh. He wasn't a part of society, and didn't want to be.

Bill was the complete opposite of Gary. Bill walked around scratching his head with a confused look on his face most of the time. It was as if he wasn't sure where he was, or how he got there. He was the sort of guy you would see in a mental institution.

(And yes, I've seen it, was locked up in one for a brief time, not by choice.) All the Pizza delivery bags reeked of Bill's body odor because he carried the bags under his armpits after delivering the Pizza. He was also the kinda guy who would bum you his last cigarette, even if he had no money for more.

We had Tim. Tim was the assistant manager in his early twenties. Tim and me got along just fine. We smoked pot in the walk in freezer when Gary wasn't around. We just had a mutual bond of slackerness. Never taking much seriously at our job, or in life. I don't even get how he ever became assistant manager. I guess he was a good actor when needed be. Tim and me tripped on some chemicals one night at work. We both decided the uncooked pizza dough felt like some sort of extraterrestrial substance, as we dug our sweaty fingers through it, laughing the night away, stuck in some bizarre alien pizza land. Tim also had a hot girlfriend we all wanted to fuck.

We had Kevin. Kevin was a computer science major at the big college in town.

A smart fellow with a taste for raves and drug abuse. He used to be a delivery driver, until he got his first drunk driving, and tried to beat up the cop who pulled him over. Kevin had to make pizzas now, with the inside crew, since the incident with the law. He missed the tip money we drivers would make when not getting stiffed by some greedy bastard. Kevin and I enjoyed going to the local trendy bars occasionally. We would get totally obliterated and hit on all the slutty drunken college girls. Kevin also introduced me to the strange world of computers and being on line.

We had the Cogden. Cogden was a heavy metal kid who weighed about three hundred and fifty pounds. Gary never asked him to tuck his shirt in. I never knew if Cogden was his first name, last name, or nick name. I never bothered to ask. He got special privileges for being a lard ass. Cogden was almost 30, lived in his parent's basement, and dealt drugs to just about anyone with money. I didn't care for him all that much, but everyone kissed his ass, cause he could score you anything your addicted heart might desire. He also had a certain stench lingering around him, but it was weak, compared to Bill's.

We had Rulf. Rulf was a foreign exchange student from Germany. Rulf liked dirty porno movies, and hardcore punk rock music. I always called him Ralph, and he never seemed to notice, as his English wasn't too swell. Rulf had been an inside pizza making man for a couple of years at the Palace. He could have been a driver, but didn't want to be. "Youz Americans and yourz crazy roads!, not fo me, no wayz sir!" he use to say when I asked him why he didn't deliver the pies he made. Rulf worked like a dog, and paid for all his own college tuition. I admired this about Rulf. Most college kids seemed to live off their parents, or big loans, or college scholarships and shit. Rulf would also go to the bar and drink with Kevin and me once and a while, when he wasn't working 60 hour workweeks, with a full semester of classes.

We had Barb. Barb was an alcoholic - cross-addicted lady in her late thirties. Barb was a Harley Davidson type old hippie, with a crack cocaine addiction her biker husband had got her hooked on. Her husband refused to work, so Barb supported their habits and rent. There was a rumor that the FBI wanted Barb's husband in five different states. I only caught a glimpse of him once because he never left their pad much. He had to come pick Barb up from work after her shitty van broke down one night. He pulled up on a huge Harley bike. He had his shades on at midnight, full leather attire. He lifted his sunglasses up and gave me one of the most insane huge pupil eyed looks I have ever seen. I definitely didn't want to try and say hello to him. Barb hopped on back of the Harley. He revved the massive bike up, speeding off into the night, Barb's hands clutching his massive beer gut.

We had Chris. Chris was a twenty something musician, with no plans for college or the future. Chris was a waiter at Pizza Palace. Chris sort of lived in his own little fantasy like dream world. He thought his crappy noise band called 'Tinker' was going to hit it big some day. He didn't believe in washing his hair, which was somewhat short and always dripping with grease. Chris also refused to use fresh water in his bong. He kept the same bong water for 2 years, trying to convince me that it would get you more stoned. I almost puked hitting his bong more then once in his over crowded rented house of empty beer cans and smelly clothes. Chris could also out drink me. I seen the guy slam a pint of 80 proof whiskey in 3 minutes, with out vomiting, as if it were water. He also walked around all night at the Palace doing this weird monk like chant with his throat.

We had Jose. Jose was a bass player in some death metal band. Jose was under suspicion for some strange things going on in town. It had been in all the papers. He was a funny Mexican who made me laugh all the time. The cops had been looking for a man who would break into girl's apartments and hide in their closets until they came home and went to bed. The man would then come out of the closet with his pants down, standing above them, jacking off as they slept. He was well on his way to becoming a rapist.

A few of the girls in the numerous cases had woken up just as the man was about to climax. The man would run off into the night, leaving the terrified girls screaming in horror. Nobody really thought Jose was sick enough to do this. But who knows? His eyes screamed psycho to me more then once. Nobody really knows anybody, not even if they think they do. The cops came into the Pizza Palace one day and arrested him for supposedly hiding in the backseat of some girls car, holding a knife to her throat, telling her to keep driving, as she heard spanking sounds in the back seat. They released Jose for some reason. Not enough evidence I guess. The man wore a ski mask. Jose and me also tried out for a porn movie once. Some slick used car salesmen looking dude charged us 30 bucks to take naked pictures of us. He said he would make us the next John Holmes. We never heard back from the guy at the shady hotel operation. We had found out about it through some Detroit Newspaper. I'm still worried my naked picture is floating around in some gay navy boy sailor magazine somewhere.

The rest of the people who worked there aren't worth mentioning, cause they were not going to be part of my plan. They just needed to stay out of the way. I had to have a tight knit group of freaks that I could trust.

There was a waitress named Jill, I'd like to mention. She had the prettiest ocean blue eyes, and blonde long hair attached to her massive boobs. She was sort of your poser hippie type college student. But dam, did I ever want her. She had a certain giggle laugh that would always make me hard. I never talked to her much, cause I heard she had a boyfriend. Most of them do. I also heard he cheated on her all the time. It was always in the back of my mind, to ask Jill out some day. I just had to inflate my balls up enough to do it. The few times we did talk, I began stuttering and getting real nervous around her beautiful smelling girly scent.

So anyway, my gang had gathered at Chris's one night, so I could go over the plan. They were all sick of working there, just like me. They were sick of the shitty pay, the lack of respect we all put up with. We all hated the Palace for one reason or another. The slime ball millionaires who owned the place were gonna be sorry. Fuck Gary. Fuck the district manager. Fuck the franchises. Fuck the system. We all got good and drunk at Chris's. I spouted out some words of encouragement for them…….

"Be fucking creative people! Let's make Gary pull the mustache off his greedy face! Lets take back what they have taken from all of us! Our dignity! Our Respect! Our fucking Pride! Remember my amigos! This is our time, this is our world! These jobs are a dime a dozen! We don't have to lick the rich scum ass that uses us anymore! We are the core of their world and ours! We are all above the signature printed on our minimum wage paycheck! We hold the key to our own destiny! Fuck the Pizza Palace!"

My gang all started chanting and laughing "Fuck the Pizza Palace!" over and over again after my little speech. I was a leader for the first time in my life.

The plan was quite simple. Saturday night rush hour, everyone would carry out a task to screw up the order of things. I let my gang use their imagination for the most part. But if they couldn't think of what to do, then I would give them some warped task to carry out. We all sat around at Chris's, laughing our drunken ass's off, imagining the damage we could do to the company and its customers in one night of pure anarchy ridden vengeance.

Saturday night came. We all walked around grinning at each other. I had my look shining. My look I get in deep thought after one to many drinks. It was just about time for some fun. There was a certain silence in the pizza smelling air. A feeling of anticipation lingered. The sauce was about to explode.

Rulf and Kevin had bright red stoned eyes. They started putting all the wrong toppings on the pizzas they were making. Bill was extra stinky today, and his breath reeked of cheap whiskey. Tim's balls shriveled up. He didn't show up for the big night. He called in with some lame excuse, claiming his future wife was sick, and that he had to take care of her. That's ok Tim. The plan goes on.

Barb was coming down from smoking too much crack, and looked like paranoid death itself. Chris stunk like whiskey, beer, and some odd perfume. He had put a massive amount of faggy looking black eyeliner around his eyes. His monk throat chants were louder then usual. Gary kept telling him to stop it. Cogden's fat ass showed up late. He kept sniffling and itching his nose. I think he was wired on coke. Jill smelled better then ever. Gary was looking a little sweaty.

My first delivery was going to some dorm room college kid. I recognized the room number. This fucker was a regular, who never tipped. Not even a nickel. I shook his 2-liter of Pepsi up real good, driving towards the biggest college campus in the United States. My dented pick up truck, with the paint eroding away to rust. I lit a joint, and turned up the tunes. I hawked some gigantic green goobers in his breadstick sauce, mixing it in with my stinky finger. I had a nasty cold. He stiffed me (no tip) of course. He shut his door before I had a chance to thank him, so I knocked on his door. He answered.

"Ya, what up pizza man?"

"I really hope you enjoy your food tonight. I made it myself. Thanks for choosing Pizza Palace." I said, with a hard to figure somewhat crazed look in my baked eyeballs.

"Yaaa dawg, whatever g, huh huh ha, sheeeeet." He slammed his door in my face again. I smiled at some 18-year-old perfectly tan tittied college bread beauties, hopping back in my hit and run truck. I imagined the 2-liter spraying all over his precious homework papers.

I told a few more customers that they were greedy assholes for not tipping, and that next time they order pizza, they should get off their lazy ass and pick it up themselves. I pretty much let all the thoughts I had always wanted to say come out in full force.

Bill was delivering his first wrong topping pizza of the night in his barely running Chevette. Bill was drunk, babbling to himself, swerving all over the lanes. His delivery was to a rich house. A hot looking yuppie Mom answered the door in her country club tennis outfit. She looked a little stunned, seeing Bill standing there, and getting a nice whiff of his stink. She handed him a check for the exact amount, mumbling a phony thank you, with her dental insurance nice white teeth. She shut the door in his face. Bill knocked on it again.

"You, you and me, we could be alright together.' Bill said.

"What?" she asked.

"I mean no, not like, well you know, I was wondering if you would like to go fishing on a date with me. I got a lake close to my homemade cabin."

She started getting real nervous, with a look of pure panic in her facial expression.

"I'm a married women with children, but thank you all the same."

"I don't care if you are married, I could fuck you a lot harder then, well, I mean, your husband. I think I love you." Bill stammered.

The look of fright on her face was the best thing that had ever happened to Bill. He started to get a hard on. She slammed the door, locking it, grabbing her cell phone to call the cops. Bill turned his lips inside out, sticking them against her glass window door and left a big kiss mark with his breath. He burned rubber out of her driveway, taking a swig off his whiskey and chuckling to himself.

Barb was delivering a wrong topping pizza to a frat house. She had already spit on the pizza driving over there. Some typical rich college kid with a silly baseball sports cap on answered the door. He had the big macho muscles and the Greek letters on his shirt. He had been drinking with his clone like frat buddies. A few rude comments were made about Barbs weight problem in drunken laughter. The guy at the door was smug and cocky. "How much is it?" he laughed.

Barb didn't appreciate it when they asked her jokingly to give them all head for a white trash porno they were making. She grabbed the guy at the door and body slammed him down five steps, onto the cold cement. His head making a loud cracking noise, as his stunned frat brother's jumped off couches to come to his aid.

"You want some too mother fuckers!" Barb yelled at them all.

The muscle headed jocks all looked petrified, as Barb sped back to the Pizza Palace, trying to get a hit off her empty crack pipe in a rage.

"What a crazy bitch" one of the dumb jocks said, as another one quickly called 911.

Cogden laced a few of his pies with some of his very own home grown mushrooms. He also said he put some dog shit on one of the usual stiffer's pizza. I don't know if I believed him. He kept asking me for that 20 bucks I owed him. Fuck it. The fat bastard. Chris kept dropping shit on purpose. He spilled customers drinks all over their laps, and pretended to trip over his own feet, as steamy double cheese supreme pizzas took flying leaps into peoples tables and faces. Chris ruled. He pissed his own pants on purpose. The damn monk chant master was doing his job to perfection.

The phones started ringing off the hook with complaints from angry customers. Gary was slowly losing his mind. Tim showed up drunk off his ass and started yelling at Gary in front of mad customers. Something about quitting and what an asshole Gary was. Tim's words were all slurred and hard to make out. But the turd breath pulled through. He wasn't such a wuss after all.

Kevin and Rulf started a food fight in the kitchen. It was awesome; everything was going so well, I wished it would never end. Jose had barfed some greenish looking beans all over the kitchen floor, mumbling something in Spanish about being wanted by the law an hour into his shift. He left after that. The cops showed up looking for him about half an hour later. I never saw Jose again.

The night continued in to chaos. Gary was yelling at everyone, asking what the hell was going on. He suddenly zeroed in on me.

"You are behind all of this! I know this is all happening because of you! I should have fired you a long time ago you worthless evil bastard!"

I pretended I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Dude, Gary, you are really losing it, chill out, things will be ok."

I'm sure by now the acid Cogden had slipped in Gary's coffee was kicking in.

"Fuck you!" he yelled, walking away to deal with more complaining customers and insane employees.

Barb started breaking dishes on the ground. She knocked a big shelf of pizza pans over and smiled at me as she sped off in her Van for another hit of the white rocky devil. Rulf and Kevin started a fire in the oven. Bill mumbled something about bad credit and bullshit jobs, grabbed his drunken head with both hands and sped off in his crappy car. Cogden slipped me some ecstasy, telling me I now owed him 60 dollars. He waddled his fat ass out to the Pizza Palace parking lot, pissed on Gary's car seats, burning rubber out of the parking lot.

I snuck into Gary's office and stole a bunch of inventory papers and other documents. I ripped them up and tossed them in the overflowing garbage near the dishwasher.

Chris was passed out now with his pants around his ankles in the public restroom.

So many other things happened in all the chaos that I can't even remember it all. It was time for me to get out of there before Gary had a nervous breakdown. I didn't want to deal with any cops. I was just about to head out the back door, when I saw Gary sitting in the corner of the kitchen, curled up, sucking his thumb and looking up at the grease stained roof. Kevin and Rulf were throwing slimy pieces of ham at him, which were sticking to his forehead.

"I'm Kermit the frog's super model shadow. I am the Easter bunny's love doll. I'm a twisted sister and the leader of the free world." Gary mumbled.

I had opened up an entire new world of possibilities for the poor guy.

I almost felt sort of bad. Not really.

Jill walked up to me.

"Isn't this crazy? What's going on in here tonight?" she said giggling.

"Man, I'm not sure Jill, but I'm getting the hell out of here."

"I think I will too, this is just too much."

"Do you want to go get drunk at a bar and play some darts? I've always thought you were beautiful."

Her eyes lit up, to my amazement.

"You are so sweet, thank you."

She scribbled down her address, and told me to pick her up in an hour.

As I drove away from the Pizza Palace, I saw fire trucks and police cars pulling up with sirens blaring.

Jill and I made love later on that night. All night long, like wild horny beasts.

I got a job the next day at some other pizza place across town.

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