six bucks.

it had been forty five minutes before i called gino's pizza, wondering if my cheese and roma tomato pizza with a two liter of pepsi would show up before the final scenes of ironman. i wasn't too concerned, but it seemed like it was taking a little bit longer than usual. to be honest, it was already pretty late when i phoned it in. joe, the new york sounding stage name of the guy who answers the phones there, says to me that the order is lost. i laugh a little. that sucks, i say.

he apologizes and tells me he'll make it now. i am satisfied. i hang up and get back to robert downey.

i get a good two minutes of rockets and fire in before the phone rings. it's the delivery guy.

i am outside, he says.
i'll be right out, i say. i think to myself that they messed up and are sending two pizzas. i think about freezing the extra one for emergencies.

i go outside in pajamas with some wadded up cash in one hand and the lining of my sweatpants pocket in the other. i hold the door open with my foot and lean far enough outside to see that there is no one around. i stay in this position for a few moments.

when i call the delivery guy's number back, he tells me that he went to the wrong place and he says to give him five minutes. there are no parts of the address that correspond to my own. he is six blocks north and four long blocks west. he sounds wasted. he slurs in spanglish. i hang up.

he calls back.
do you at least have a lighter, man? he asks.
i say, yes, i do. you can't take it, i say, but you can use it if you want.
cool, he says.
now i know he's wasted.

so by the time he is handing over the mostly cold pizza and zigzag walking back to the car for the pepsi, the movie is over. i bite into the first congealed slice and the phone rings with a time-delayed joe on the other end explaining that the delivery guy is at the wrong address, i smile. i hear the car clunking away.

i wonder where he'll choose to spend that extra six bucks.