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Sunday, August 26, 2012
Woman on the Verge of Paradise: Pizza Delivery, Part I.
This series, written several months in retrospect, loosely follows
from this post. Hint: “pizza” represents something else.
darted for the Tea Bar’s only vacant outside table.Brandi placed her Iced Ginger Peach Tea aside
my Chocolate Chai Frost and declared, “It's about time we caught up!”
I jumped right in. “So, I know I talk a big game about celibacy, and not wanting a man…” —I
relaxed into my chair and sighed, the sun piercing my face— “…Maybe it’s just the heat. But what
I really want is ‘pizza,’ good ‘pizza’ before I die.”
you,” she nodded and clasped her glass. Orange-pink liquid surged up her straw,
halted mid-stream, and shot back down. “Hold on! Why didn’t I think of this
earlier, Robyn? I have a guy friend who wants ‘pizza’ with no string cheese.He’s
nice and normal too, wouldn’t give you anything to write about.”
up!” I giddily devoured my frost, without noticing its taste.
to self: Psst, are you sure you want pizza
with no string cheese?
in response to note to self: Did you say something? I wasn’t paying attention.
Pizza! Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!
hereafter named “Delivery Boy,” called a few days later. His voice was deep and
decisive, the tone of a man smooth with take-out, yet respectful enough to not suggest Round Table for the first date. Instead, we made plans to meet at a local
Starbuck’s that Thursday evening.