The Pizza Man (A Short Story)

Marybeth was the most popular girl at my high school. This was mostly because of genetics. Her mom was a former beauty pageant winner, and her father was an underwear model. Marybeth got the best of both of them, including her mom’s blonde hair and her father’s piercing blue eyes.

This is why it shouldn’t be any big surprise she was also the frontrunner and eventual winner of every high school honor you could think of, homecoming queen, prom queen, class president and (more the result of perverted teachers than actual intelligence) valedictorian. 

Her charmed life continued after graduation. After a year of following in her father’s footsteps and modeling underwear in multiple catalogs, she moved to Hollywood and had a semi-successful career in horror movies. She couldn’t act to save her life, but she didn’t really need to because she was willing to show her perfect chest at the drop of a hat.

That perfect chest once again on display. Only this time, instead of being on the latest straight-to-streaming release, it was in my walk-in refrigerator. Her piercing blue eyes staring lifelessly back at me as I admired the straight, clean cut I had made across her jugular. 

I smiled at the deceased starlet as I grabbed a box of pepperoni and walked back into the kitchen, closing the door with my foot as I exited. I was a bit disappointed I would only be able to enjoy my artwork for a short while longer. The health inspector was coming in a couple days, and I was certain Marybeth would be a code violation.

As I set the box on a counter, the bell above the front door alerted me to a customer and I hurried to the front of the house. I nearly paused for a moment when I saw the police uniform but realized it was just Lucas making his tri-weekly after hours stop.

“Your usual, Luke?” I asked him with a broad smile as I walked over to the cash register. “You know if you call ahead, I could have it ready before you get here.”

Lucas looked up at the menu for about a minute, as though he thought he was fooling me for a second. Like many in town, I had known him for most of my life. Even when we were in school together, he was a creature of habit and afraid to try new things. I could have literally written down sausage and mushroom with a side of buffalo wings and ranch dressing by the time he spoke.

“I was tempted to try your supreme pizza,” Lucas finally said. “But I think I’ll just go with sausage and mushroom again.”

“Wings?” I asked.

“Of course,” he replied. “With some ranch dressing please.”

“I’ll get right on it,” I told him. “You can come into the kitchen if you want. I’m not busy tonight.”

Lucas followed me into the kitchen and stood near the walk-in door as I started making the crust. In hindsight, I probably should have been nervous but once again, Lucas was a creature of habit and in all the times he had joined me in the kitchen, had never once given the refrigerator a second or even first thought.

Instead, his eyes caught sight of the ticket attached to a bulletin board near the kitchen door.

“I see you’re going to the reunion on Saturday,” Lucas said.

“Yeah, I thought I’d check it out," I told him, pretending he hadn’t already asked me that exact same question four times before.

“Do you think Marybeth Adams will be there?” He asked me. 

Despite it being an innocent-enough question (Lucas, like many, had a crush on her in high school), I had a momentary twinge of panic before answering.

“I would assume so,” I replied in a tone that was so calm, I was a bit afraid he’d realize it was an act. “She was the reunion chair and the whole reason we are even having one. Are you going?”

Lucas shook his head.

“I need to work,” he replied. “I’m covering for someone and picking up some overtime.”

“My tax dollars at work,” I joked. Lucas didn’t reply and once again was less than conversational, watching me in near silence, responding to questions with one-word answers until his food was prepared and packaged.

“Keep the change,” Lucas told me, handing me a $20 bill. He was technically short by about $3 since my prices increased a few weeks earlier but, being his friend, I just smiled and accepted the “tip.”

“Have a good night,” I told Lucas as I escorted him back into the front of the restaurant and he walked toward the door. “I’m sorry you can’t make it on Saturday. I’ll make sure to tell Marybeth you said hi.”

Lucas nodded his head then left and I watched as he got into his car and drove off.

“What a strange guy,” I said to myself as I contemplated closing early since Lucas was usually my last customer on Tuesday evenings anyway. “I’m surprised he hasn’t shot up his police station or something.”

Then, turning the sign to “closed,” I locked the door and headed back into the kitchen and then refrigerator.

“Lucas says hi,” I told Marybeth, keeping my promise as I once again mentally reviewed my plan to dispose of her body. “I just wanted to tell you because he won’t be there Saturday. Though, I suppose that doesn’t really matter since you won’t be there either.”

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