got me like oh-oh-oh-oh oh my god

[counterclock]

Who: Avery Strider counterclock & Karson Valenti enrages
What: Pizza delivery. Also known as, these douchebags interact a lot for people who hate each other as much as they do.
Where: Avery's apartment.
When: August 3rd, night.


It's late and she's swamped with two papers and she's starving and doesn't have time to go shopping. Therefore: pizza. Lots of pizza.

Two pizzas.

Two large pizzas, each ordered with very, very specific instructions, like "regular sauce on half of the pizza but light sauce on the other half" and "can you just sprinkle the jalapenos on like... two slices, just enough to taste them but I really don't want them on a whole pizza." After bantering (arguing) with the Pizza Hut Guy for like, ten minutes they reach a satisfactory agreement and she hangs up, flops on the floor and crushes her cat under her boobs while whining about her classes. The cat desperately attempts to escape, but Avery has arms of steel. She is immortal. She is eternal. She is the hero Locke needs. She is the night.

She is wearing a ratty Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles pajama top with the too-short sleeves shoved up around her elbows and a pair of ill-matching Incredible Hulk boxers.

This is what she is wearing twenty minutes later when she's considering snapping her laptop in half and using the pieces to construct a suicide weapon and she hears what she assumes to be the pizza dude ring the buzzer.  Even though she only lives like three blocks away from the Pizza Hut she got delivery anyway, because the extra five bucks fee is way better than putting on pants and getting it herself.  She waddles over to buzz him in and then slumps against the doorjamb and waits.

Comments

[enrages]

Today, the Pizza Hut was a little understaffed. Some douchebag NPC didn't show up for his shift, so Karson was stuck having to help out with making the pizzas when he wasn't rushing deliveries all over the fucking city. Needless to say, he's not getting paid near enough for his work.

Which is why, when he receives the bitchiest order that has ever existed in the history of the entire galaxy, he promptly ignores the shit out of the orders, makes two pizzas covered in jalapenos, puts a single pepperoni in the middle of each, and then goes to deliver. To his benefit 1) no one ever knows his name so they can't report him, 2) they usually only look at the pizzas once he's gone, and 3) he totally spit on these pizzas.

Karson's always paranoid about apartment complexes, though. At least if he's murdered in front of a house, it'll be easy to catch the perpetrator. But here? There are too many doors to account for-- who knows which ones have a serial murderer behind them, just waiting to see a stranger in the hallways. Delivery boys have high murder rates, after all, and...

Oh, here's the door.

INSERT THE ANGRIEST KNOCKING EVER IMAGINED HERE.

[counterclock]

Jesus, someone needs a drink. Avery unfortunately does not actually have alcohol in her house so she can't shove a beer in the delivery guy's face upon opening the door and tell him to chill out, even if that would be hilarious, and she doubts his work would tolerate a toke-break. Oh well. She swings the door open, already preparing some kind of "what, do you gotta take a piss or something?" comment, but then she looks at the impatient douche and just kinda

stops.

"Um, wow. You work for Pizza Hut." Well, he had said he was a delivery boy.

Avery blinks. She is still in a TMNT pajama top and a pair of Incredible Hulk boxers, and shadeless, and though the minor scrapes have healed the big ones are still very present. Her hair is kind of a mess, but she doesn't fuss with it or fidget like she might with someone else (she kind of has a thing about looking good? whatever) and instead looks dead at him, boxers and scabs and scraggly hair and all, and wrinkles her nose.

[enrages]

SCREAM.

[enrages]

SCREAMING INTENSIFIES.

[enrages]

SCREAMS INTO THE LIMITLESS ABYSS AT THE END OF THE WORLD.

[enrages]

Wait, hold on, eyes going right to those scabs and bruises, and hello guilt, how are you today? Wait, no, guilt shut up you are on the job.

So, instead of flipping his shit straight into the sunset, he bites down on the inside of his cheek and speaks through gritted teeth:

"That'll be 25.30$."

[counterclock]

For a few seconds she watches what she expects is a bout of very vehement internal screaming before Karson appears to get ahold of himself, after which he goes back to being a little dicksore, in usual predictable fashion. Of course she knows his habits after meeting him twice. They don't seem that complicated. Screaming probably makes up at least 68% of his pasttimes.

Avery clucks her tongue thoughtfully, looks at the boxes in his arms, and says, "Let me see the pizza first."

[enrages]

"Can't do that. Against the rules." In his attempt to not fly off the handle, he has transcended general sentence structures. He has gained the eloquence of a shot gun.

[counterclock]

"No, douchelord, I don't mean have it. I want to look at it." Obstinate, she folds her arms and raises her brows at him challengingly.

[enrages]

"Money first." Douchelord. He is nearly frothing at the mouth at this point.

[counterclock]

"Fuck no. There is no rule that you can't open that pizza box and let me look at it before I pay for it."

She tries to keep cool, but maybe she's getting a little agitated. "Now let me see it because I'm not giving you shit until I make sure you didn't spit in it. Otherwise you can go fuck yourself."

[enrages]

Okay, that's it. That's the final straw. He drops those fucking pizzas like they're hot-- which they are, and stares intently.

"I spat on every fucking slice, you asinine bitch of ungodly proportions."

[counterclock]

And that's the exact minute where she gets an idea.

It's an evil idea, of course.

Because her phone just so happens to be on the side table right beside the door, so it isn't hard for Avery to reach right over and pick it up, keeping the screen away from him and looking at it triumphantly. "Thanks for admitting it, jackass. When I decided to record the pizza man coming for a documentary I had no idea it'd be this successful.

"Now why don't you pick those up and fuck off while I send this recording to your manager." Yeah, because the last time you threatened him that totally went over well. "I don't think the company will be too happy with you spitting in food and calling customers bitches, but we'll see if you get another job when the first Google search for Karson Valenti comes up with a youtube video of this conversation."

She steps back and jerks her chin at her camera, which is resting on the kitchen counter pointed in sort of the direction of the door. The camera isn't on and it isn't really aimed properly, but Karson doesn't know that.