Welcome to Creep's Cast

I delivered pizzas to an address that I had never heard of before.

I almost didn't escape alive.

Written by J.O. Goodwin, 1990.

When you're at the end of your shift as a delivery driver, there is one sentence that is worse

than any other to hear.

Hey, Hal, hold up a minute. I've got a customer on the line. My shoulders slumped and I felt a

mix of exasperation and annoyance as I turned back towards the front counter. Please tell me you're

joking. I had just finished helping clean the pizza parlor after tell me you're joking.

I had just finished helping clean the pizza parlor after an eight-hour shift of manning the phones and register,

and running over what must have been half the county delivering orders.

I had locked the front door and been in the middle of heading into the back room to clock out.

Mind already at home, where dinner waited for me and my fiance lay in bed, ready to roll over and wrap her arms around me once I

climbed in beside her. But my boss's call had put a delay to that. I stood there for a few minutes,

staring at his hulking figure as he leaned against the imitation

brick, listening intently to whoever was on the other end of the line.

Aside from his quiet replies and the scribbling of a pencil on his notepad, the only sounds

that could be heard were the hum of the buildings, a ventilation system, which sounded like

blues or swing music crackling out

of the ancient radio on the back, and the constant smack of the rain against the glass on the

front windows. I waited, shifting impatiently on the balls of my feet. Finally, he hung up turning

to me, but I spoke before he even had a chance to open his mouth.

...