i was taking some ficlet requests over on twitter as a way to brush up after working so heavily on zines, and i got some great prompts! i actually put this in psi snippets for five seconds, but i decided to post these separately when i get them done.
this ficlet was requested by ChairmanNom who wanted the thorney towers gang ordering a pizza!
You Guys Wanna Order a Pizza?
"Olives? You like olives on your pizza?"
Edgar pulled the tip of his ballpoint pen away from the pad of paper. He raised his head, shoulders squaring as Fred's voice broke out among them. Taking a breath, he asked why Fred objected with all the patience he could muster.
Sitting opposite from Edgar on the loveseat with Boyd, Fred vaguely gestured. His hands flicked from side to side as if physically gathering his intangible thoughts. Boyd leaned into the armrest, avoiding an accidental smack to his shoulder. Fred narrowed his eyes on Gloria, who had mentioned her appreciation for olives with such adoration that it churned his stomach.
"You can't be serious about wanting olives. They ruin the taste of the whole slice," Fred said, crossing his arms.
A wrinkle formed in Gloria's brow. She looped her graying, red hair between her fingers, saying, "Well, I disagree. I think they add a much needed juicy flavor."
"You don't need juicy when it comes to a salty and cheesy pizza," he countered. "Besides, just plain cheese is the best."
"I do not mean to cause offense, but a pizza without toppings can be rather bland," Edgar interjected, Gloria casting him a conspiratorial smile. He twirled the pen between his thick fingers. "If anything, I think olives are fine. Not preferable, but I wouldn't mind them."
Fred's mouth dropped open. "It's not bland! How's triple cheese bland?"
"It's all cheese and sauce, dear. No pizzaz, no real flavor," Gloria said, waving her hand and brushing off his disgust. "Olives add a subtle texture. Without olives, or really any toppings, the pizza would be gooey, and that's simply revolting."
Edgar tapped his pen to the pad as Fred and Gloria bickered. What should have been a simple pizza order dissolved into a debate about viable, appealing toppings. Olives waged war between Fred and Gloria, the latter raising her hand and turning her head away from Fred.
"Oh, don't 'talk to the hand' me, Gloria. We both know I'm right," he grumbled, hunching forward and tucking his long legs underneath the loveseat.
"Are bell peppers off the table for you? What about pineapple?" she sharply inquired, Fred's expression growing more daunted by the second.
Edgar grimaced and straightened his back. "I will not eat a pineapple pizza. Fruit should never be on a pizza, but I'll happily go with bell peppers."
"I'm glad we're on the same page, Edgar," Fred said, a hint of relief in his voice, "but the bell pepper slices at the pizzeria are always too big. I won't like 'em."
Gloria huffed and rubbed her neck. She pursed her lips, the wrinkles at the corners of her mouth deepening. She crossed her legs and leaned into the armrest of the couch, her gaze fiercely accentuated by her curled lashes. "You boys never want to try anything different. It's always cheese, cheese, cheese when it comes to pizza," she accused, drumming her fingers on her thigh.
Fred's lip curled as Boyd slipped off of his seat. "Because you always want to add all the healthy stuff."
"It's better than eating a mouthful of cheese," she countered, Boyd slinking over to the landline phone on the wall.
"Five minutes ago, you said we should put sun-dried tomatoes on it when the sauce is going to be made from tomatoes! That's too much tomato, Gloria!"
Edgar rubbed his temples as Fred and Gloria exchanged pizza topping barbs. The discussion tumbled into an argumentative nature over a topic he thought utterly foolish. Even as an emotional high schooler, he would not have bickered with his boisterous wrestling teammates over pizza. And while he knew everyone's taste buds were different, frustration swelled in his chest and rose behind his eyes, causing a faint, painful pulse to throb behind them.
"You never eat healthy, Fred. I always have to remind you that French cuisine is not always the best option," Gloria said, tapping her heel into the rug.
"Hey, snails are delicious! How come you don't want snails on your pizza?'
"That isn't a topping! You're acting childish."
Edgar dug the pen into the paper, worming it through the sheet and piercing through the ones underneath. Through gritted teeth, he growled, "Can you two stop your racket and make a decision about pizza toppings? It's driving me-!"
"...and could you repeat the order back to me? Just want to, heh, make sure it's right. Oh! Not that I'm saying you didn't get it right, but-! Um, yes, thanks."
The others snapped their attention to Boyd. He curled his finger around the cable, slowly nodding his head to the nasally voice of the teenage pizzeria employee. A small smile graced his half-shaven face. He thanked her and hung up, sighing heavily with the knowledge that the order was properly processed.
He hummed and looked at the others, wincing. In his mind, he forgot they were there, as he was too engrossed in ensuring he said everything correctly to her. The way they observed him immediately made him fiddle with the large collar of his button-up shirt. A laugh slipped out of him, and he dipped his chin to his chest, fidgeting with his credit card before stuffing it into his pants pocket.
"I, uh, decided to order two small pizzas instead of a large one. Better to have one cheese and pepperoni pizza and another pizza with more toppings," Boyd said, and he threw out his hands, excitement lighting up his face. "Oh! We can mix and match the toppings from one slice to the other!"
Fred and Gloria's faces flushed. They exchanged a glance, Edgar sensing they felt rather foolish for letting themselves get heated over pizza toppings. Edgar chuckled, acknowledging that Boyd had a point. Gloria tittered behind her fingers, embarrassment pitching her notes. Chuckling, Fred thanked Boyd, sinking back into his seat as Boyd returned, their tabby cat trailing him before leaping into Boyd's lap when he reclined.
"This is why you are our decision maker," Edgar said, the others nodding.
Boyd laughed, his calloused fingers brushing through their cat's fur, who purred as peace returned to their cozy apartment.