The Pizza Man Rings at Midnight
*DING DONG*
The bell reverberated loudly throughout the house waking me from a deep sleep.
*DING DONG DING DONG DIIIINNNNNGGGGG DOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNGGGGGGG*
I sat up in bed realizing I wasn't hearing things. "Who the hell is that?" I looked at the clock. 11:59 PM. I pull on a pair of shorts and t-shirt. And walk to my front door.
"Who is it honey?" My wife calls from the bedroom.
"I don't know, I say. Be ready to call 911. Nothing good happens at this time of night." I reply.
Through the frosted glass I see a figure holding a box. 'What the hell is going on'. I think, 'What ne'er-do-well or scallywag is ringing at my door this time of night.
I crack the door with the chain still attached.
The figure steps forward into the light. He speaks slowly but with an intensity rarely heard. He is a Rastafarian man with long dreads. He has a Jamaican accent. He looks kind of like snoop doggie dog.
"Your... pizza... man..." He pauses between every word. With the last word he looks up at me. HE ONLY HAS ONE EYE!!!!!
"What in the love of Jesus' nipples happened to your eye?!?!" I shouted, spittle flying out of my mouth, every word tinged in fear.
"Diabetes... man..." He said, keeping the same crawling pace in his speech as before.
"Well my good man, you should continue seeing a doctor. Diabetes was the seventh leading cause of death in the United States in 2015 based on the 79,535 death certificates in which diabetes was listed as the underlying cause of death. In 2015, diabetes was mentioned as a cause of death in a total of 252,806 certificates. Took my grandfathers leg don't you know." I said matter-of-factly.
"Thank... you... for... the... information... man... unfortunately... my... job... doesn't... provide... health... insurance..."
"Well that sucks for you. I didn't order a pizza. Goodnight." I said slamming the door in his face.
"Honey, was that my pizza?" My fat diabetic wife screamed from upstairs.
"No honey. Eat a salad," I said grinning.
As I tucked myself back into bed I thought about what a sweet life I had. Those were my last thoughts, as the Rastafarian pizza man and my diabetic wife smothered me to death with a pillow and had sex and pizza on top of my dead body.
THE END
Credited to grghbbs
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