DISClAIMER: See previous entries.

Four pizzas delivered before noon. Can't say it's a personal best, but it's a good day. What's that? You think this is no big feat? Well, I'm sure your mother loves taking you to school dances after five years in high school.

The first order, large pepperoni and sausage. Extra thick crust. Ordered by two men who tried to rob a bank, and have been leading a hostage situation for close to sixteen hours. A SWAT team covered me when they led me through the barricade, they shoved me through the revolving door, I had a machine gun aimed at my head while the guys searched me for a wire or gun, before they took the pizza, tipped me with a gold bar they found in the back of the safe and bid me a good day.

I didn't mention this to the police while I left, but the guns they were using were using ammunition belts that weren't compatible with the series, they'd jam like a laser printer if it came down to a shoot out. But more importantly, do pawn shops cash in gold bars? Or can I go to the supermarket where they have those change machines, and toss in my spare change, jam the brick into the coin slot and get the cash amount at the register?

Next job, three personal pans and a six pack of diet cola. Three college girls are chained to an office building's main doors, protesting the prescription drug checks it processes. And they ordered pizza from a cell phone. The problem is, they're on a hunger strike. How did I sneak the stuff to them without the crowd and the cops noticing? Very, very carefully. I had a friend of mine crash his car into a street lamp next store, the cops and the crowd ran off to make sure he was okay and I snuck the food to the girls, they ate it in ten seconds and one pulled a ten dollar bill for me out of her shirt. I'd say her bra, but these are some serious hippies. And I'm also framing the ten dollar bill as a trophy.

The next two aren't worth telling about. Some sewer workers two hundred feet underground, and a window washer on a high rise got the munchies on the outside windows of the eighty second floor. Both times I used a bungee cord and a crowbar.

As I walked back into the parlor around twelve of five, with a crowbar over my shoulder and my bungee cord wrapped around my waist, I saw an unusual sight. A TV crew, a blonde reporter and her camera lug, were interviewing my boss as he rolled dough. Both the bimbo and her camera guy were on their knees as he spoke, he's a tad vertically challenged. I stood there next to a table full of people waiting for a pizza, watching him speak. The family did a double take when they saw me wearing climbing equipment, but the other delivery guys and chiefs didn't notice.

"My parlor has not been hurt. City get earthquake, hurricane, fire, no-thing hurt my business. We rebuild, we repaint, we move building twice. Closest we get to closing, invasion of…"

He looked down at the dough, deep in though before he saw me and yelled out, while they were filming.

"Hey! Davie, what were the tiny green things that try to eat you called? My mind, it skips me."

I thought it over, scratching my head with the crowbar as I did so.

"Eh…you mean the tofu?"

He nodded, turning back to the clueless reporter and her camera dude, who was trying not to laugh.

"Yes! Yes, the tofus try to wreck our last building. Police, they tell me to run. I tell them 'I got a shoe, and it's got a heel on it. No tofu gonna take my business.'"

…he actually said that. I was there. He actually beat those things down armed with one of his shoes while he hopped around in one sock and one boot.

I on the other hand, was ambushed by a dozen of those things, ended up victorious but unconscious, and for three days I was considered dead until I walked into work missing my hat and one of my kidneys. I found the kidney later and managed to get it back wherever it goes, but I really miss that hat. They gave me a new one for free, being back from the dead and all, but still. Twas' a good hat.

...I didn't sleep until I found it. And now it's gone.

I had to hold my sides together as my boss went into detail about that time the ninja robots invaded and I trashed one, used its armor as a costume and kept delivering pizzas while the city was taken over by the guy in the mask the news keeps going on about. Actually, I still wear that costume at parties, it's a riot. But the way my boss slaughters grammar like Jack the Ripper is just priceless.

The reporter fell so behind while he rambled she cut the interview short, probably on the verge of pulling her bleached hair out. My boss went back to rolling dough, untouched by all this as they looked around for some one else to interview. At the time, I was tiptoeing behind the counter, being ultra- stealthy with fifty feet of elastic around my waist and carrying a crowbar. Somehow, it didn't work out. They spotted me and ran over, that reporter must be wearing five inch heels by the way she walks.

"Sir! Sir? Would you be interested in broadcasting your opinion to the fine citizens of Jump City?"

"Sure, it's up there on my list under a sulfuric acid enema and chopping my…"

Before I could finished my statement the guy had the camera set up in front of us, she was fixing her hair next to me, and my crowbar and rope were on the floor next to me. Well, might as well make the best of this. The red light clicked on and she started.

"Mr..."

She looked at me, I answered.

"Setanta."

"Mr. Setanta is one of the city's pizza delivery boys."

…boys? I'm old enough to buy alcohol and cigarettes wrapped up together in a porno magazine.

"He has often ventured out in the city in times of chaos or riot. Mr. Setanta, do you feel the 'super' population of Jump City has been an asset to our society?"

I stared at her, not because the camera was focusing on my face either.

"Call me Dave. And if you mean the people with powers, I'm pretty neutral on the matter. I'm not protesting their existence, I've met quite a few and they're good people. On the other hand, I'm not trying to get powers or building a battle suit like many half-wits are."

The blonde faked interest, probing further.

"'Dave', your associates have testified that they are suspicious of you yourself being superhuman."

I looked to my left, glaring at the other pizza guys who were hiding behind the counter.

"I'm all natural."

"Your boss has mentioned several unique abilities of yours…"

I spun my head back and glared at the camera.

"Nothing that can't be pulled off with practice and dedication."

Finally, she switched to the main topic that these interviews were really about.

"How do you feel about the Titans? Anything you'd like to tell them about their achivements?"

…now, a few citizens had blankly stared into the camera and said 'Hi' or a short sentence. I, being not camera shy nor stupid, looked right at the camera and gave my message.

"You punks owe me a well earned tip. Don't think I let it go. I am not going to rest until I get what I rightfully deserve."

…they broadcasted this on the morning news the next day. All the interviews actually. Not much happens in this city that doesn't involve something blowing up, so they did all nine interviews on the slow side. They saved mine for last, including my statement for the city's protectors. The old news anchor chuckled when they cut back to the main set, seeming impressed.

"Well, that last guy seems to mean business. I've done a few news reports on him, remember his name folks."

And he bid the city good morning, and the news ended. I was sitting on the counter of the parlor, craning my neck up to see the TV tucked near the ceiling.

"…does my hat really shadow my face like that? You could only see my chin and mouth on there."

My boss shrugged.

"You always look like that. Like you wear mask. It look good on you, lot of good looking people wear masks."

He went on about all the people who wear masks. Most of them, members of the Justice League. Whatever happened to sports? Back in the day people beat each other up over baseball teams, now it's Green Lantern vs Superman on the moon all day long.

It was a slow day. Climb to the top of a stalled roller coaster car with a bag full of iced sodas and ribs. Some guy was stuck under a subway car, and if they pull him out, he dies. Eventually he wiggled his way out and he turned out fine, good for him. But an hour of being stuck under a train car and listening to priests giving last rights makes a guy hungry. He couldn't reach his wallet, but one of the priests slipped me a fiver out of the collection basket he'd been carrying to the bank when he heard there was an accident.

Then, the order came. Sausage, cheese, veggie personal pan, breadsticks…the order pattern has the same tone as the ones ordered by the Teen Tip-Hogs…Before my boss even finished writing down their order, I was standing behind him with my brand new kayak over one shoulder, a portable sail to make the trip faster, and a baseball bat. When he glanced at me as he walked over the oven he said.

"…Davie, these are superheroes…"

I sigh, walking to the door of the back room, tossing the bat away, and coming back out with another bat, jet plane style aluminum.

"That's my boy.."

He whipped up their order, loaded it into a climate-controlled bag that replaced my old one, and waved me off.

"Remember, the bigger they are, go for the knee caps!"

I thanked him for the advice, walking down to the pier whistling a happy tune.

One speedy trip across the lake, and I was standing in front of their intercom, tapping the doorbell with the handle of the bat. A different voice answered, deeper, worse grammar.

"Yo-yo?"

I clear my throat.

"Pizza."

I was nearly blown back by the sound that came from the speaker.

"YAHOOO! Send that baby UP!"

I smirked, thankful he couldn't see my face.

"Your little elevator thing is busted, I can't get the pizza in."

A serious question.

"Seriously? Storm must have shorted it out…"

I shrugged.

"Looks like some one busted it with a bat. Damn teenagers. They must have drove by in a speedboat to bust your mailbox."

A groan.

"…again? Son of a…"

And he clicked out, and I snickered at the sound of an elevator coming down, hoping I had enough pine tar on my bat tape.

When the main door slid open, I was crouched on a ledge over it, holding my bat over my head like a rogue samurai. When I saw some one step out, I leapt into the air, falling with my bat extended before me, screaming like a true martial artist before impact…

CLANG!

…and I bounced off like a super ball. I collapsed into the dirt, my bat knocked out of my grip. A heard that voice from high above me.

"…where are the pizzas?"

I struggled to pull my head out of the dirt as I pointed at the neatly stacked pizzas next to the door. I heard a loud 'Sweet!' as I pulled out and looked at who ever I'd just bounced off of.

…it's a freakin' cyborg…seven foot tall, six feet wide, blue an silver parts, and he was devouring one of the pizzas as he stood towering over me. I looked down at my feet, seeing the metal bat bent into a curve that matched the shape of this guy's bald head. I slowly glanced back up, watching him clean out the box before tossing it over his shoulder. He sighed, looking down a me like a lion that just ate.

"That hit the spot…"

…he hadn't noticed I'd tried to knock him out and break into his home…

"Dude, my bud Robin handles the tips, he's the only guy in here who carries cash."

I tipped up my hat brim to get a clear look at the half-metal face.

"…so…can you send him down?"

Hey, getting beaten down with a broken bat probably hurts. But the hungry cyborg closed his organic eye and shook his head.

"He's been in his room for days, won't come out. After that Slade guy again."

I raised an eyebrow, stepping back, the height difference made it hell to make eye contact with this…guy-thing.

"…who?"

The metal teen shrugged, rolling the normal eye.

"The guy in the mask, took over the city once?"

I nod, remembering.

"…Oohhh yeah…black and orange armor, has a base full of gears and cogs, bit of a lazy eye?"

The bionic brother did a double take.

"…how'd you know that!"

I shrug.

"Only three people in this region have ordered pineapple and sausage on a plain crust. Two of them live in dark lairs filled with gears and shadows. One of them wears a weird mask. My boss said he called himself 'Mr. S', then he took over the city and spared my life because I his cheese hadn't gotten all over the top of the box.."

The cyborg stared blankly at me, wondering whether to step on my or ask more.

"…eh, that's the dude…"

I slowly nod, backing toward the path down to the shore.

"…so, I'm not gettin' a tip?"

He sighed.

"Sorry dude, maybe when Bird-Boy finds a body."

I nodded, tipping my hat and walking off to my boat, until I was out of ear-shot. I then screamed toward the sky that I hated my life. So, why didn't I kill him? He's a seven foot tall cyborg. And my bat was broken. And my leg is sore from playing tetherball with those school kids.

So, I'm not getting a tip because some dead guy never floated down river. Who to blame? This 'Bird-Boy' owes me twenty bucks so far, I don't care who took over the city, I earned that money fair and square. Oh, he also owes me a new bat, a pizza bag, and that hat I lost and found in the Tofu Invasion. Okay, so the last one has nothing to do with him, I still want it back! Now if you excuse me, I have to go get a Slurpee and get change for a gold brick down at the 7-11.

Author's Note

...you heard me...the man misses that hat.