It’s late at night, clock clicking past three in the morning, you and your friends are laying on a torn, potato chip crumb covered couch, sporting big grins, slack jaws, droopy eyes, and sweaty T-shirts. You’re half-awake but fully-hungry, half-cooked but not fully done, half-exhausted but fully up for ordering a giant, hot and steamy, late night pizza pie.
Someone suggests it and everybody wants it. And then it’s all over.
First you start picturing burning hot mozzarella sliding around on slippery tomato sauce. You dream of wet and glistening pepperoni, the corners black and crispy, little grease puddles laying in the folds. And you know, you just know, that pizza will taste delicious. Because how can it not?
See, we all know this ain’t your 6pm Dinner Order, where toppings are debated, phone numbers are looked up, and the table is set for dinner, complete with triangle-folded paper towels and a giant 2L bottle of Coke centerpiece.
No, this is the Late Night Scarf-It-And-Sleep Order. This is the one your doctor warned you about. This is the one that took out Grandpa. Yeah, this is the big ball of dough that sponges up everything else in your belly. It’s the only cure for rapid outbreaks of the Midnight Munchies, that empty, raw, growling feeling your gut gives you when it’s tired and confused and suddenly wants breakfast.
The Scarf-It-And-Sleep generally consists of somebody dialing whatever number is in their cell phone, ordering a plain cheese or pepperoni pizza without asking anybody else, and then just throwing it on their credit card because they can’t be bothered to collect five bucks from everybody sitting around playing Nintendo.
The only issue with the Scarf-It-And-Sleep is that even in the middle of the night you get told what you always get told. “That’ll be 45 minutes to an hour,” they say. And brother, you know and I know that you don’t want to be waiting an hour for pizza at three in the morning. Somebody might just crack and drink a bottle of salad dressing or eat a chunk of butter the size of a deck of cards, man. It’s a tense scene.
And that’s why it’s great when, once in a while, you get that surprise really, really early pizza delivery. When twelve minutes after you place your order, the doorbell rings and wham-bam, thank you gram, it’s here and it’s hot and it’s time to toss that greasy square of hot cardboard on the floor and just rip right into it like a pack of hungry lions around a dead zebra.
So this one goes out to the pizza chains that surprise us with an early delivery once in a while. Thanks for filling our bellies with your greasy goodness just in time for bed.
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