Seriously, why the hell do I do these things to myself?
So the day had ended. I had wrapped up organising a bunch of stuff that will be happening within my school over the course of this month and the next. I had been dismissed and spun on my heels gleefully to sprint out the door. My sprint turned into a blitz, cutting across roads and streets, sidewalks and alley ways. All to get to the local Pizza Hut for a slice of stuffed crust pepperoni pizza … with extra pepperoni.
Really, to most, the distance I had covered would’ve seemed like a metaphorical Odyssey. A Herculean effort just to maintain the stamina required to even make it down the long and winding road. But Dandy was determined as all hell to taste that cheese melty bliss in his mouth as he sat back in his chair like a self-completed sack of shit and purred like a E-Type Jaguar after a well needed oil change. Wait, if you got the Jag to start. *ba-dum-tish*
It’s not like I was meeting friends or anything down there. I was by my lonesome. One man on a quest for his Holy Grail of Melted Cheese. Service jacket, black jeans, formal shoes and all, treading along the sidewalk til he had reached his destination. Hell, if you paid me to solve the world’s problems and the payment was a lifetime supply of various types of pizza, I think I’d come up with the solutions in less than a week.
Pay in pizza and Dandy is your man for any job.