The Most Expensive Pizza

“Hey, hey! Y’all good with pizza?” Blake yells over the piercing sound of the combat video game some of the guys are playing on the only television in his place at the moment.

He is the first one out of any of us in the crew to get a crib. He is so stoked that as soon as he got things people could sit on, he invited us all over. A lot of us crash there from time to time too. He is like our big brother. He takes care of us and by the satisfaction on his face at the end of the night, even if he’s about to black out that night, it shows how much he loves taking care of us. It gives him a sense of purpose and us a place to be.

I can see how proud he is to be the one that brings us all together like this. He just wants us all to be okay. It takes a toll on him though. You can tell because he went from being the one behind the controller to the one lowering the volume to get things done. He doesn’t have fun the same way he used to. He doesn’t do the things he likes anymore and it’s changing him. He doesn't speak the same or move the same anymore.

I nod and reach into my back pocket for some cash to throw in for my portion of the pizza but Blake grabs my arm and holds it into place before I can take any money out, “Nah, it’s on me kid. I got this.”

Blake gets three 100 dollar bills from a big stack of 100s from his pocket and hands one each to three of his fastest bodyguards. He whispers, “Make sure it takes the guy more than 30 minutes to get here.”

They leave after receiving his vague instructions with a mission on their minds. They return half an hour later; covered with dirt, blood and bruises. They each silently find a spot to sit and send a confirmation nod to Blake as if they had just successfully completed something highly beneficial.

Shortly after, the doorbell rings. Blake answers and it’s the pizza guy. He looks all messed up and out of breath. He apologizes for the delay and goes on to tell Blake of the bizarre and violent encounter he had with three random strangers, causing his delay.

“Not my problem buddy. Rules are rules so it looks like these are free.” Blake grabs the five pies from the half broken pizza boy and slams the door in his face with no remorse before the mention of a tip could even occur.

He places the pies on a table and tells everyone to dig in with a big giddy smile on his face like he had just won some sort of game, and with great difficulty at that. I grab a slice, void of appetite by this point. It looks great, don’t get me wrong. A bit cold, but great looking quality overall. But, there is this bitter taste to it where sweet tomato sauce is supposed to be. If you ask me, cold, bitter pizza isn’t worth $300 plus effort. Craziest part is, the pizza was only $45.55.

Everyone rejoiced and grabbed a slice as fast as possible; with no regard for each other, the controllers or any of Blake’s other items. The sight of oily hands all over the controllers and reaching for bitter cold pizza in an animalistic way has me sick to my stomach, or maybe there was something actually in this pizza. Regardless, it’s at this moment that I realized I never want to share cold, bitter pizza with zombies ever again.