A/N: Howdy-howdy! X3 So this is the second installment in the Chow Down! series, though it should probably be the first. Don't be thrown off just because it starts with Riley, I've decided she's my (bad) luck charm and needs to be in more stories to take some of the misery off of the other characters. ;) Poor girl!
Frank, in my mind, eats no pizza...so this one's Collie/Eddie instead. I wonder which is more canon...? ;3 Tell me what you think!
Chow Down!: More Cheese, Please!
Riley grumbled to herself as she crawled out of the car, snatching the pizza box with one clawed hand and slamming the door with the other. Four prank deliveries in one night, would you believe it? Maybe it was time to get out of the pizza delivery game…there was supposed to be a new ice cream parlor opening soon, and they would certainly need hard-working, honest, earnest employees. Riley just so happened to fit the bill beautifully, when she wasn't suspicious of being duped yet again. Her mind was very nearly made-up: She'd quit tonight, go work as cashier and attendant at the gas station for a couple of weeks, and apply for the ice cream parlor the second it was hiring. It was a good, solid plan on which to build an economic future, at least for a teenaged girl in Denton. Babysitting didn't break in squat in a small town like this, and she didn't have enough money to pay for the gas needed for an out-of-town job, so it looked like she truly and well stuck in Denton. At least until she scrapped together enough money for college, then she was home free!
She stopped in front of the shabby apartment door, smoothing down her logo-ed shirt ("Pizze Bronzato: Perché andarepre l'oro quando sei l'unico in esecuzione?") and fiddling to make sure her pony-tail fell from out of her equally logo-ed cap perfectly. She might be only the delivery girl, but she was a cute delivery girl, since her pride—and single status—would allow nothing less of her. She took a deep breath, plastered on a perky smile, and rang the doorbell. Something crashed down inside; there was some cursing, and some giggling; and the door opened to reveal a disheveled young man clad in blue jeans and leather, a little flushed and slightly out of breath, and a chipper young lady with dyed-red hair resting her chin on her arms over the arm of the sofa in the back. Riley's smile wavered, then returned full force.
"Pizze Bronzato delivery!" she called cheerfully, thrusting the box at the all-too-obviously-a biker. He looked confused, then a bulb went off dimly in his hand. One tattooed hand dove into his pocket, pulling out a wad of bills.
"There," he grunted, grabbing the box. "Now scram!"
The door slammed instantly in Riley's face, leaving her outside to count her change.
"You schmuck!" she hollered, clenching her fists and stomping one foot in rage. "You shorted me eight bucks!"
Earlier That Evening
Frank sneered, mood visibly darkening by the second. At the best of times, men like this annoyed him…but at the worst of times, times like these, men like this drove him to violence. The prat sat there, dirty boots propped up on the lab table, dumping mud onto the otherwise clean surface, looking around with the air of one soon to move in. He and his stupidity, his chauvinism, his uncouthness, made Frank ill. He would sooner slice the man before him into little pieces and eat them himself than allow the punk to come anywhere near his home again, but Columbia was getting to be too much of a distraction to allow for work on Rocky, and the brute was somehow able to keep her occupied and happy. Until the project was closer to completion—or at least until Frank needed Columbia's special attentions again—this buffoon Eddie was the perfect and, indeed, only answer.
"Vhere are you taking zah girl?" Magenta asked, more to drown-out the annoying tick-tock of the grandfather clock than out of actual interest.
"Town," the man grunted vaguely, and with a wicked grin. Frank's stomach churned.
The silence stretched on for a few more seconds before it finally frayed Frank's final nerve.
"COLUMBIA!" he shouted indignantly, making Eddie jump and fall out of his seat and Magenta quirk her brow curiously at him. "GET DOWN HERE, NOW!"
"I'mcomingI'mcomingI'mcomingI'mcoming!" replied the nervous, high-pitched voice everyone in the room had come to know so well in a single, breathless stream. The elevator landed and Columbia dashed out, wearing a fluttery pink shirt and yellow mini-skirt. Around her middle was a white plastic belt, and below her freshly-cropped hair, splitting open in a grin that ran ear-to-ear, were a pair of bubble pink-painted lips.
"Eddie!" she squealed, launching herself into his arms and wrapping her's around his neck. He winked, rather stupidly Frank thought, at Magenta before settling his arm around the girl's waist and tugging her after him.
"Where we going on our date, Eddie?"
"You'll see."
The footsteps faded; the door slammed; a motorcycle kicked up in the front yard; they were gone.
"Thank God they're gone," Frank muttered, gently massaging his temples in a vain attempt to rub away the rage.
"Amen to zat."