There were four minutes left before closing.

If I had gone to the bathroom, done my business, and stood in myself in the mirror for a few moments,

the ticket would have gone to someone else.

If I hadn't had such great luck with green lights the ticket would have gone to someone else.

If I hadn't had such great luck with green lights at the time and my way back from the previous

delivery, it would have gone to someone else.

If any number of things happened during the day to prevent me from being at the counter available when that ticket came in, I would have been spared and night of black terror.

But we were still open for another four minutes and I was able to take the delivery.

The order was for an extra large pizza cooked, quote, solidly crisp, loaded with as much meat as the dough could handle.

The box itself sadged, the weight almost cumbersome.

As I walked out of the restaurant, bearing the burden, I heard the distant howling of dogs.

I was sure they had smelled the meat-heavy package.

I drove for nearly 45 minutes.

The neighborhood was technically beyond our service area, but there weren't any other Peter

places closer to it, and the order would cost enough for my boss to give it the go-ahead. Each additional meat topping was

two dollars and the customer had ordered enough to have gotten two or three other

two-topping pizzas but they hadn't wanted that apparently.

Instead, they ordered something that was more lasagna than pizza.

They hadn't even ordered excesses of cheese or sauce to compliment the abundance of meat.

It was an unusual order. cheese or sauce to complement the abundance of meat.

It was an unusual order, but in the two years I worked the job, I had seen a few wader things.

Ordinarily, I described the area as simply rural, but as I pulled onto the road that led into the smaller cluster of houses, I found myself applying other descriptive terms to my surroundings.

...