Pizza

It was just another evening in Negra Arroyo Lane, Albuquerque. I had just completed my exhausting journey through rush hour traffic and parked in my driveway when I saw that my neighbors, the Whites had done the same thing as well. Mr White, head of the family, got out of his car, walked around to the back to get stuff from the trunk – a red sports bag and a pizza box. From the back of his car, emerged their son, who hobbled with his crutches towards the entrance of their house.

I called out “good evening” and waved, but they didn’t seem to have noticed me. It’s okay, they must have had a long day, I told myself. The Whites were usually cheery enough to reciprocate, just not today. I walked out to the sidewalk and lit up a cigarette, watching the kid entering the house, while his parents stood at the doorway talking.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it looked like Mrs White didn’t want Mr White to enter their home. She took the sports bag from him but refused him entry. She didn’t seem to want the pizza either. Mr White’s face turned from one of elation into one of defeat. Ouch.

I stamped out my cigarette and walked to my front door. As I unlocked it, I turned to look at the Whites again. This time I saw Mr White stomp angrily towards his car, pause, and threw the box of pizza onto his roof! What happened next was magical – and I kid you not – the pizza flew out of the box and landed on the roof, while the box fell onto the ground. The pizza, uneaten and a perfect circle, lay there, as though it was meant to be there all along. I quickly went into my house, not wanting to appear nosy and peeked out through my windows. Mr White had started up his car and sped off. Something must be going on between the Whites!


Writing Prompt from Reddit: [WP] When you die, you end up in the universe of your favorite TV show as a background character. You see the events of your show unfold from your point of view.

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