"The Tip"
"Dammit, Isaac!" Michelle the pizza slut screamed as she took her last call of the day. "Quit lighting your crotch on fire and get to work!"
"Shove it up you ass!" Isaac replied, amusing himself by setting his nether regions aflame. When he tired of this, he retreated to the exterior of Pizza Hell to smoke with the other 99.99999% of the employees. Rob, the delivery driver, burst in and quite angrily saw he had been assigned delivery number 666, and that it hadn't even been made yet! He cursed under his breath as he hastily assembled the large pan with half bacon and half meat mix. This would make his run late, and late pizzas meant small tips. He read the address on the delivery and was additionally chagrined to note that it was in the new area that had just been added to the delivery route- Silent Hill. Something had called him from there.called him to deliver a pizza. He slammed the pie into a box and headed out the door.
After twenty minutes of reckless driving, he finally arrived in Silent Hill. It was so dense with fog, that he could barely tell what were those strange forms he kept running over with is car. They looked human, but who cared? If he stopped to help them, he would have an even smaller tip, and maybe even have to go back to jail. He chanted the Pizza Hell motto- no one is looking, no one will notice- and sped on. He had a juicy tip to earn, and he wasn't going to earn itself by being late!
The address led him straight to the doors of the Silent Hill historical society. He knocked on the huge oaken doors, but not a reply was heard. He got frustrated, and decided to just shove the doors open. It was poorly lit inside, but luckily, someone had dropped their flashlight right by the door. He looked left and right, but it was completely deserted. He did spot an interesting picture hanging on the wall, and he leaned closer to investigate it.
"Misty days, the remains of judgment?" Rob scratched his head. It featured a man in darkness, holding a huge spear and wearing a weird had, surrounded by grotesque figures of corpses strung up in metal cubes in on the ceiling. "It's him!" he gasped, leaning in for a closer view. "That guy, in the cube on the ceiling! He owes me twenty bucks, and he hasn't been returning my phone calls! Well, now that I know where he is." Rob filed that thought away and started sprinting down the hallways. Suddenly, he fell down into a well. A hideous being writhed in the darkness, advancing on him menacingly, gurgling and spitting.
"Did you order a pizza?" Rob asked, dodging the creature's acidic vomit that it sprayed from its orifice. It shook its head negatively. "No? Well, then, screw you!" and Rob stomped it's head into the pavement, quite irritated to note that the pizza was getting colder and colder in this chillier environment. Late and cold! Rob's mind automatically started discounting his tip, and with an inhuman resolve, he burst through the walls of the well, into a dark corridor. There was a fog horn-like sound that he followed down through an endless dark hallway. Finally, he made it out into a labyrinth-like area, and started exploring the rooms and hallways, desperate to find the person so he could get his tip. He found a cube of faces in the center of one room, and found that once turned, they would rotate and adjacent room. After much experimentation, he finally managed to open a door to a cramped chamber below. There were bars bisecting it, and a young blonde woman was seated on an austere bed on the other side of the bars.
"Did you order a pizza?" Rob asked.
"No, have you seen James?" She replied.
"I don't have time for this! FUCK!" Rob screamed, running back upstairs. As he sped past the cube, he accidentally knocked it off of its pedestal, apparently making the other room go haywire and ruining the machine that worked it. He kept running through the corridors. As he was passing through a smaller hallway, he heard some mumbling and pacing from some rusty jail cells above him.
"Hey up there!" he called. "Did you order pizza?" The shuffling and mumbling stopped, but nobody came into view.
"No. What house is it?" A disembodied voice asked.
"Well, the number on the ticket is six-six-six." Rob read aloud.
"Oh. That's only a few halls down, sixth door on the left. You can't miss it."
"Thanks, disembodied voice!"
"No problem!" It answered. Rob jogged off again. He felt so stupid, because he finally realized, with the prisoner's advice, that there were, in fact, numbers besides most of the blood soaked doors. He finally found it, and, as he learned in the Pizza Hell instructional video, he smoothed his hair before ringing the doorbell. The doorbell had a distinct sound, like screaming. He heard a shuffling sound on the other end, and the door finally opened, revealing a pot bellied man, of medium size, wearing a bloody butchers apron and having a giant pyramid thing attached to his neck.
"Took you long enough." He grumbled. His voice had a strange, strangled, and metallic glean to it.
"Sorry, there was some bad traffic." Rob gave his weak excuse. The man pulled out some bloody bills from his apron's pocket, and as Rob counted out his change, he saw the man examine the cold pizza and shake his pyramid from side to side in a disapproving way. He pressed the change into the man's hand, and was upset that the man had ignored his psychic plead for a tip and instead abruptly shut the door. Rob wasn't going to give up so soon- he had a damn drug habit to feed and he deserved that tip for being so damn dapper! He rang the doorbell fiercely until the pyramid headed man came back.
"Can I help you?" he pressed a hand caked with dried blood into his hip.
"I want a tip!" Rob demanded.
"You want a tip? Ok." The man retreated into his house for what Rob supposed was more money. Rob was relieved. When the man came back, he was holding an immense spear.
"Here's your tip!" He exclaimed, stabbing the tip of the spear through Rob's head.
"Dammit, Isaac!" Michelle the pizza slut screamed as she took her last call of the day. "Quit lighting your crotch on fire and get to work!"
"Shove it up you ass!" Isaac replied, amusing himself by setting his nether regions aflame. When he tired of this, he retreated to the exterior of Pizza Hell to smoke with the other 99.99999% of the employees. Rob, the delivery driver, burst in and quite angrily saw he had been assigned delivery number 666, and that it hadn't even been made yet! He cursed under his breath as he hastily assembled the large pan with half bacon and half meat mix. This would make his run late, and late pizzas meant small tips. He read the address on the delivery and was additionally chagrined to note that it was in the new area that had just been added to the delivery route- Silent Hill. Something had called him from there.called him to deliver a pizza. He slammed the pie into a box and headed out the door.
After twenty minutes of reckless driving, he finally arrived in Silent Hill. It was so dense with fog, that he could barely tell what were those strange forms he kept running over with is car. They looked human, but who cared? If he stopped to help them, he would have an even smaller tip, and maybe even have to go back to jail. He chanted the Pizza Hell motto- no one is looking, no one will notice- and sped on. He had a juicy tip to earn, and he wasn't going to earn itself by being late!
The address led him straight to the doors of the Silent Hill historical society. He knocked on the huge oaken doors, but not a reply was heard. He got frustrated, and decided to just shove the doors open. It was poorly lit inside, but luckily, someone had dropped their flashlight right by the door. He looked left and right, but it was completely deserted. He did spot an interesting picture hanging on the wall, and he leaned closer to investigate it.
"Misty days, the remains of judgment?" Rob scratched his head. It featured a man in darkness, holding a huge spear and wearing a weird had, surrounded by grotesque figures of corpses strung up in metal cubes in on the ceiling. "It's him!" he gasped, leaning in for a closer view. "That guy, in the cube on the ceiling! He owes me twenty bucks, and he hasn't been returning my phone calls! Well, now that I know where he is." Rob filed that thought away and started sprinting down the hallways. Suddenly, he fell down into a well. A hideous being writhed in the darkness, advancing on him menacingly, gurgling and spitting.
"Did you order a pizza?" Rob asked, dodging the creature's acidic vomit that it sprayed from its orifice. It shook its head negatively. "No? Well, then, screw you!" and Rob stomped it's head into the pavement, quite irritated to note that the pizza was getting colder and colder in this chillier environment. Late and cold! Rob's mind automatically started discounting his tip, and with an inhuman resolve, he burst through the walls of the well, into a dark corridor. There was a fog horn-like sound that he followed down through an endless dark hallway. Finally, he made it out into a labyrinth-like area, and started exploring the rooms and hallways, desperate to find the person so he could get his tip. He found a cube of faces in the center of one room, and found that once turned, they would rotate and adjacent room. After much experimentation, he finally managed to open a door to a cramped chamber below. There were bars bisecting it, and a young blonde woman was seated on an austere bed on the other side of the bars.
"Did you order a pizza?" Rob asked.
"No, have you seen James?" She replied.
"I don't have time for this! FUCK!" Rob screamed, running back upstairs. As he sped past the cube, he accidentally knocked it off of its pedestal, apparently making the other room go haywire and ruining the machine that worked it. He kept running through the corridors. As he was passing through a smaller hallway, he heard some mumbling and pacing from some rusty jail cells above him.
"Hey up there!" he called. "Did you order pizza?" The shuffling and mumbling stopped, but nobody came into view.
"No. What house is it?" A disembodied voice asked.
"Well, the number on the ticket is six-six-six." Rob read aloud.
"Oh. That's only a few halls down, sixth door on the left. You can't miss it."
"Thanks, disembodied voice!"
"No problem!" It answered. Rob jogged off again. He felt so stupid, because he finally realized, with the prisoner's advice, that there were, in fact, numbers besides most of the blood soaked doors. He finally found it, and, as he learned in the Pizza Hell instructional video, he smoothed his hair before ringing the doorbell. The doorbell had a distinct sound, like screaming. He heard a shuffling sound on the other end, and the door finally opened, revealing a pot bellied man, of medium size, wearing a bloody butchers apron and having a giant pyramid thing attached to his neck.
"Took you long enough." He grumbled. His voice had a strange, strangled, and metallic glean to it.
"Sorry, there was some bad traffic." Rob gave his weak excuse. The man pulled out some bloody bills from his apron's pocket, and as Rob counted out his change, he saw the man examine the cold pizza and shake his pyramid from side to side in a disapproving way. He pressed the change into the man's hand, and was upset that the man had ignored his psychic plead for a tip and instead abruptly shut the door. Rob wasn't going to give up so soon- he had a damn drug habit to feed and he deserved that tip for being so damn dapper! He rang the doorbell fiercely until the pyramid headed man came back.
"Can I help you?" he pressed a hand caked with dried blood into his hip.
"I want a tip!" Rob demanded.
"You want a tip? Ok." The man retreated into his house for what Rob supposed was more money. Rob was relieved. When the man came back, he was holding an immense spear.
"Here's your tip!" He exclaimed, stabbing the tip of the spear through Rob's head.
