November 19th, 2001 Sin Pizza By Gary It Begins with a Lie At any given moment in the course of our lives, there are an infinite number of things that are heinously inappropriate to bring up in conversation. A perfect example of this might be last night, when over the phone I told a Pizza Hut employee that they couldn't deliver my pizza, because I just found out I had small pox, and I was far too contagious. No, of course I don't have small pox. The problem originates from a flaw in my character, which for some reason makes me create long lists of things in my head that I should NEVER, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SAY TO ANYONE, EVER, which leaves in my head, a virtual fireworks factory at the end of a very short fuse. This fuse gets ignited whenever I find myself engaged in a conversation that I want out of, and the results are often quite criminal. A second later and I'd likely have blurted out "forget that pizza, I'm harboring Taliban refugees." A List of Things to NEVER DO The story starts last night, when in a really wacky mood I thought it would be fun to set a world record for something. It should be noted at this point, after a night to cool off and rethink things, that NOTHING GOOD has ever come from someone deciding to set a world record with no up-front idea as to what record should be broken. This kind of thinking has killed countless stupid daredevils, and probably countless more innocent bystanders. So the first thing that popped into my head was "most delivery pizzas ordered in one night." Safe enough. I checked my '97 "Guinness Book of World Records," and NO ONE HAD EVEN TRIED THIS STUNT YET!!! After a quick calculation based on how all the newer "GBoWR" editions you see in Barnes & Noble and Wal*Mart have no records that don't relate to sex, midgets, body mutilation, Brittany Spears, or some combination thereof, I knew I was SO IN if I only ordered like 5 or 10 pizzas, which is great because I'm SO broke right now. Plus, I wasn't hungry. Not at all. So I called Pizza Hut. I put in an order for 12 pizzas with a lot of different toppings, and it came to like $500 or something. Here's where I freaked, told her to belay that order because I just remembered I had small pox, panicked that I had just said one of things on my list of things never to say, slammed the phone down, then ran around like a moron. I smashed the phone repeatedly into my bed, which wasn't causing any damage, so I decided to use the wall instead, and then I was worried I'd break my phone so I started banging my head into the wall, which hurt, and then out of anger at the phone for making me act like this, I started banging the phone into my head. I'd say about thirty seconds later I woke up again, and my phone still worked which was great because I had an awesome idea about how to get out of trouble with the FBI while I was dreaming. I thought it up right at the end of the part where I was in the dragster with the Gorillaz in their music video where they fight that giant moose with the rockets (I love that one!). Redemption I dialed Hungry Howie's pizza delivery and quickly ordered a single large pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese pizza, reminding myself over and over in my head not to mention anthrax, the president's health, or that I would be holding hostages at gunpoint while waiting for my pizza. These were all floating around in my mental list of things not to mention in public, and I was very proud that I kept them all under control. My thinking was that when the CDC guys showed up in their toxin suits, I'd just be sitting there eating pizza from some "other" place, which would like totally blow away Pizza Hut's story, because who in their right mind would call up to order pizza at one place, start a frenzy about small pox, then call some other place and just order a pizza - no threats or anything? Slowly I was destroying "motive," and "modus operandi." Besides, if you ever watch "Cops," and in secret, we all do, sometimes, then you'll remember that no drug bust (or whatever) ends with the cops kicking down the front door on some chubby kid eating pizza and watching Comedy Central. I was just trying to paint the picture of a well-adjusted guy who's big goal for the night was to not laugh cheese through his nose. I was also practicing the "my front door has just been kicked off its hinges by a group of hooded strangers" look so I'd have an honestly surprised expression on my face when it happened. Thankfully, Nobody Cared 8 slices later (that's a whole pizza), I was so beyond full, so beyond caring if the CIA showed up, so broke, so fat, so depressed at what I'd done (the pizza AND the virus thing), that I decided to just face the music. I called Domino's back and apologized to the girl about that small pox thing, and she had no idea what I was talking about. Then I remembered, and I said "Oh my mistake, that was Pizza Hut." There was an awkward silence, after which she said "So, did you want a pizza or anything?" I thought about it. The one thing that helps you out when your depressed, fat, broke, and bloated with sin pizza, is more sin pizza. Yep! - more pizza. So I ordered two, one with sausage, one with extra cheese, and then I asked her about the 30 minutes or less deal. She said "yep, guaranteed in 30 minutes or less." I said "Well, it better be, or one these hostages gets it." Then I slammed the phone down, felt the hot & cold flash of panic surge through me, and almost jumped to my feet to run around screaming in abject horror. But, as I was far too full to stand up, I settled for an "Ah, screw it," and flipped to the Cartoon Network. After all, "Cops" has NEVER kicked down the door on a bloated kid watching the Power Puff Girls. It just doesn't happen.