When a boy and his cheating girlfriend get caught up in an assassination attempt, they are taken on a journey through the city’s underbelly with two odd and out-spoken hit-men.

Written by Gregory Patrick Travers

They say that everybody has had a bad day every now and then. Whether it be the Law of Averages, Murphy’s Law, or just plain old bad luck, everybody goes through a period of time where the odds seem unfairly stacked against them.

For Chad Wright, on this particular and peculiar day in June, the odds, much like the world around him, seemed to have had completely abandoned him.

When he had left work that day, hopping into his “Midnight Blue” Mazda 3 and driving off in a hurry, excited to surprise his girlfriend with two tickets to her favorite band The Wrecks, he had not expected that he would find her in her room with another man. But sadly, this was the case.

At first, his girlfriend Melony was caught off guard, then she became angry at Chad for not calling first, then she became very apologetic, full of tears, and admitted that over the last six months she had been having an affair with this man she called Victor…and she was in love with him.

It might have not been so bad if Victor had not been so ruggedly handsome and his penis much larger than Chad’s, but again, sadly, this was the case.

Boiling in a stew of anger, hurt and jealousy, Chad stormed off down the stairs and out of the house, for he had been raised to know that if you didn’t have something nice to say then you shouldn’t say anything at all.

He climbed into his “Midnight Blue” Mazda 3, started the engine and pulled out of the front driveway. As he drove down the winding hill towards the front gate, he saw another pair of headlights approaching.

At first glance, it appeared to be a taxi, but as it drove by him he read the text lit up across the sign on the roof.

“Pizza Guys,” he read. “…Delivering Last Meals.”

Now, if Chad had been thinking clearly he might have found this particular slogan to be a tad off-putting, but as he was caught up in the hurricane of emotions running through him, he just was not thinking straight. Finally, he could take it no more and he put the car in park.

He gave himself a good look in the rear-view mirror and asked himself, “Are you just going to let them fuck and eat pizza?”

A grin broke across Chad’s face and he put the car in reverse as he decided–No. This time he wasn’t just going walk away. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to do, but he wasn’t walking away. His whole life he would run away when things got heated…not this time. And if that Chris Angel, sexy Jesus-looking hippie tried to pipe up, Chad was going to pop him one in the nose without a second thought.

The Mazda 3 sped backward up the winding path, swerving into a patch of daisies and crushing a pair of solar garden lights beneath the heavy rubber of his tires before it came to a park beside the beat up box Civic that had drove passed him on the way in. He got out of the car and stormed up the steps, afraid that if he paused, even for just a moment, he might lose this new-found bravery and intensity.

The Pizza Guys had left the front door open slightly and he could hear them talking to Melony inside, but it was muffled and hard to make out exactly what was being said. Seizing the moment, Chad took a deep breath and then, raising his leg, kicked the front door with all his might.

The door swung open violently and hit one of the Pizza Guys in the back, which knocked him off balance, causing him to drop the pizza box in his hands.

Chad smiled knowing that their dinner was now ruined.

But when the box hit the floor it did not SPLAT! like Chad had expected. Instead, it landed with a heavy KLUNK! And instead of a cheesy slice of pepperoni sliding across Melony’s parents’ marble floor, it was, to his surprise, a shotgun, with its barrel sawed-off and shortened.

Victor looked down at the gun and back up to the Pizza Guys, who looked down at the gun and then back up at each other. Everyone remained silent and still for a moment, then Victor spun around and made a hard dash for the kitchen.

“Fuck!” cursed the delivery man that Chad had hit with the door, as he chased after Victor.

Panicking, Chad turned for the front door, but felt a large hand plant firmly on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw the hairy knuckles and gorilla-like arms of the other delivery guy.

“You’re not going anywhere,” said the Pizza Guy.

Never before had Chad seen a man with an eye-patch as this man wore. Such a dramatic costume piece belonged in pirate movies or other far-fetched action films. Although, the present situation Chad had found himself dealing with was indeed itself something that seemed pulled out of a blockbuster Hollywood feature.

“Go stand over with your girlfriend,” the delivery man ordered.

Chad was disgusted by the thought of it. “No way,” he replied.

The delivery man withdrew a pistol that was tucked between his protruding gut and his waistband. Pointing the barrel at Chad, he repeated his command. This time Chad was a little less disgusted by the thought of it and walked over beside Melony.

At that minute the blonde Pizza Guy with aviator shades, who was much skinnier than his dark, stubbly, eye-patch wearing counterpart, came back into the front hallway, gasping for breath and soaked with perspiration.

“He…He got away,” he panted, bending over and gripping his stomach. “He’s too fast…Jesus Christ…How can a junkie run that fast? It’s insane! He’s like a cheetah…or a gazelle…”

“Please don’t kill us!” begged Melony, tears rolling down her cheek. “My parents–they have money! Lots of money! There’s all kinds of jewelry in their room. Take it! Take all of it!”

“Will you fucking relax?” said the one with the eye-patch. “We’re not here for you. We’re here for your junkie boyfriend.”

“Me?!” cried Chad. “But I’ve never done drugs my whole life!”

“Not you,” the one with the eye-patch replied. “The one she’s actually having sex with—Victor!”

The skinny blonde one stood up, straightened out his hat and aviator sunglasses, then picked up the sawed-off shotgun that still lied on the floor, saying, “We woulda popped him too if it wasn’t for you knocking me with the front door!”

“I’m sorry!” Chad pleaded. “Please don’t kill me!”

“Quiet, kid. We ain’t gonna kill ya,” said the one with the eye-patch. “But my colleague is right when he says you owe us for that little blunder. You and your girlfriend are going to take a ride with us, help us find Victor. And then, if the four of us still can’t find him, then I’ll kill you.”

The two armed Pizza Guys led Chad and Melony outside the house and down the stairs where the old box civic and Mazda 3 sat along with Melony’s parents new Navigator SUV in the front driveway.

The blonde one with the shades turned to his partner and said, “If Victor goes to the cops, they’ll be looking for pizza delivery cars. Maybe we should switch rides–take the Mazda 3.”

The one with the eye-patch laughed, “If there’s one person that junkie ain’t going to, it’s the cops. Besides, I’d rather get thrown in jail than be caught cruising around the city in that chick car.”

Chad looked up from his sneakers where his eyes had been firmly planted, and said, “Hey! It’s not a chick car.”

“It’s a total fucking chick car,” said the one with the shades. “You have no balls, buddy.”

Before Chad could protest the fact that he did indeed have balls, he was thrown into the backseat of the Civic by the one with the shades. Melony was ushered by the one with the eye-patch around to the front passenger side and pressed in just the same before he came around the front of the car and got into the driver’s seat.

The engine hacked and coughed while the old vehicle struggled to start but, after some time, the box Civic puttered off towards the front gates and all that could be seen in the night was the glowing Pizza Guys sign winding slowly down the hill.

“Listen,” said Chad after they had gotten back out onto the public streets. “You can let us go and I swear we won’t do anything.”

“I know you won’t do anything, kid,” said the one with the shades. “You’re a Mazda 3 driving little bitch with no balls.”

“I have balls…” Chad said softly in his defense.

“I don’t know about that one,” said the one with the eye-patch. “How did you let another guy shoot on your net?”

“My net?” asked Chad.

“That’s a metaphor for pussy,” said the one with the shades.

“And you’re the goalie,” elaborated the one with the eye-patch. “Other dudes are the players. It’s your job to make sure those other players don’t get their puck in your net.”

“In my pussy?” asked Chad.

“No. In her pussy,” said the one with the patch.

“Oh,” said Chad.

“But Victor got his puck in her net,” the one with the shades pointed out.

“Oh, he pucked the shit out of her,” said the one with the patch. “He pucked her two ways from Sunday.”

“What does that even mean? Two ways from Sunday?” asked the one with the shades.

“I don’t know,” said the one with the patch. “My mom used to say it all the time.”

“Ah, your mom. Now there’s a woman who could suck a proper dick.”

“Not funny,” warned the one with the patch. “You’re going to hell for that one.”

“Oh! That’s the reason he’s going to hell?” Melony blurted out. “Not for the fact that he kills people?!”

The one with the patch turned and said, “Hey! There’s a major overpopulation problem right now, sweetie. We’re just thinning the herd. Besides, the people we kill are bad people. And we get up real close and shoot them in the head so there’s no chance of any civilian casualties. You should be mad at the real murderers–the soldiers who drop bombs on villages from thousands of feet in the air and kill whole families!”

The one with the shades kissed his teeth, “Nah, but I seen that ‘Support Our Troops’ sticker on that Navigator parked in your driveway…”

“And besides,” continued the one with the patch. “Who are you to lecture us on morality? Ever hear of a little commandment called Thou shall not commit adultery?”

“We’re not married,” said Melony.

“Well, there ya go. Sex before marriage, you still fucked up.”

“Can we just drop this, please?” said Chad, burying his face in his hands.

The patch-wearing delivery man scoffed, “Geez, kid. Don’t be such a safe-space, little pussy…Fine! Everybody, let’s change the topic. The princess doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” said the partner. “We’re here.”

Chad and Melony looked out their window but failed to see where “here” was. They did not seem to be anywhere besides parked on the side of the street in the poor part of town. The part of town their parents would always warn them never to go to. The part of town that was filled with addicts, beggars, crazies and all of the other undesirables that can be found in the cracks of society.

“Where exactly is here?” asked Melony.

“Here is where your junkie boyfriend scores his heroin,” replied the one with the patch.

“Why do you keep calling Victor a junkie?” she asked, obviously offended by the accusation. “He’s been clean for five years!”

The Pizza Guys both laughed.

Then the one with the patch said, “Sweetie, you’re going to have to start accepting the fact that Lover Boy lied to you about some things…a lot of things.”

“Why would he lie to me?” she asked.

They both laughed again.

Then the one with the shades answered from the backseat plainly, “To fuck you.”

“And then rob you,” added his partner, opening the driver side door. “Now get the fuck out of the car.”

Once away from the safety of the Civic, Chad and Melony followed close behind the Pizza Guys, who looked very much out of place in this neighborhood, with their matching bright red fleece golf shirts and their red trucker hats embroidered with a large animated pizza slice in the center. They didn’t seem to notice or care. Chad figured it was because they had guns. People’s opinion of you matters significantly less when you’re holding a sawed-off shotgun in your hands.

Through the cloak of darkness that hung over the night all that stood out were the whites from the eyes of the tramps and transients following them closely as they made their way across the road. This was a terrifying sight for the two kids at first, though they soon realized that the vagrants and vagabonds were already comfortably wrapped in the cocoon of their sleeping bags and had no intention of moving.

The four of them entered an alleyway where a man stood by himself, rolling a quarter back and forth on his knuckles. Like Victor, he had a thin frame, long greasy hair and was covered in tattoos. He saw the Pizza Guys approaching and reached for his pistol, but he was too late.

“Don’t even think about it, Wes,” warned the one with the shades. He lifted the sawed-off and pointed it to the long-haired man.

“Who is this?” asked the man they called Wes. “And who told you my name?”

The one with the eye-patch twisted Wes’ arm and slammed him face first into the brick wall, “We know a lot of shit about you, Wes.”

Wes winced and groaned, “You guys ain’t cops, we own the cops…Who the fuck are you?”

“We’re the fucking Pizza Guys, what’s it look like?” said the one with the shades, still aimed at his target.

“And we’re delivering last meals,” said his partner.

Wes laughed, “Oh yeah? Since when?”

“Since nunuya freakin’ business,” said the one with the eye-patch. He pushed on Wes’ arm still twisted in his grip, letting him know that his next answer had better be something less sarcastic. “Where’s Victor?!”

Wes screamed out in pain, “Argh! No! I swear! I haven’t seen him in ages!”

“See?!” said Melony. “I told you!”

The man with the patch paid no attention to the girl and continued to examine the witness, “Listen, fiddlesticks! I know Victor is a great custy and you don’t wanna cut off the money train by ratting him out, but listen to what I’m saying to you! This guy owes money to some very bad people! Does the name Tommy Cirvini mean anything to you?”

Wes’ face turned ghost white. “Tommy Cirvini? Are you fucking serious?”

“Serious as satellite radio, homie,” said the one with the shades.

“Alright! Alright!” he conceded. “You just missed him! He grabbed a point and said he was heading to the Bathhouse! That’s all I know, I swear!”

The one with the patch let go of Wes’ arm and started to walk away.

“Look out!” yelled Chad.

The Pizza Guys spun around to see Wes pulling out his pistol. Without a second thought, the one with the shades lifted the sawed-off and fired off a deafening blast. Wes was lifted from his feet, his chest splashing open like a water balloon, and when he finally landed smack down on the concrete…he was dead.

Melony screamed out, “Oh my god! You killed him!”

The one with the shades watched the body on the ground for a minute to make sure it wasn’t getting up, then turned to Melony and said, “Uh, yeah? That’s kinda what we do.”

Once the four of them had returned safely to the car, the one with the patch turned to Chad trembling in the backseat and said, “Thanks for the heads up back there, kid. I’m Dallas. The guy beside you is Page.”

The one with the shades turned and smiled.

“Dallas and Page?” said Melony. “So you’re like a cowboy and he’s some sort of scribe?”

“No, not at all,” said Dallas. “We took our names from the greatest wrestler of all time–Diamond Dallas Page.”

“Creator of the greatest signature move of all time,” Page added. “The DDT.”

“Can’t forget the Diamond Cutter, though,” said Dallas. “That shit was fierce.”

Melony huffed and rolled her eyes, “Who the hell is Diamond Dallas Page?”

The Pizza Guys just looked at each other and shook their heads in disbelief.

“Kids today…” said Dallas as he started the Civic and pulled off into the night.

“They don’t know shit,” said Page.

 

Once they had been driving for a little while longer, Chad spoke again. “That guy said Victor was going to the Bathhouse. He didn’t mean like a Bathhouse Bathhouse, did he? Like with gay men?”

Page nodded, “Yup. Besides being a junkie, he also sucks fags’ dicks for money.”

“No way,” said Melony with a smirk. “Victor is not gay. Trust me, I would know.”

“I didn’t say he was gay,” said Page. “I said he sucks fags’ dicks for money.”

He had a tone in his voice that made it clear he was starting to get annoyed with all the things the young girl thought she knew.

“You don’t have to be gay to suck a dick,” said Dallas. “There’s a lot of money in male prostitution. It’s actually one of the mob’s lesser advertised business ventures. And your pal Victor was working out of a bathhouse run by Tommy Cirvini, who you may not know, but for all intents and purposes is the king of this city. And when you work for the king of the city, you owe the king his cut. Unfortunately, Victor picked up a pretty bad smack habit along the way and decided to stop paying his penance. Now he’s in some trouble.”

“Wait,” said Chad. “If the Bathhouse is run by this mobster guy, and Victor is going to the Bathhouse, won’t they just get him there?”

“The fags don’t know Victor has been missing his payments,” said Dallas. “Only Victor and Tommy Cirvini know that.”

“And you,” said Chad.

“And us,” confirmed Dallas.

“And us,” said Chad.

“And now you two as well, yes,” said Dallas.

“Can you stop using the word fag, please?” said Melony. “It’s super offensive.”

“Oh, here we go!” said Page. Though his eyes were not visible under his aviator shades, everybody knew they were being rolled. “What’s wrong with the word fag? I didn’t say ‘kill all fags’, nor did I say ‘lynch those faggots’ or ‘fuck a faggot in the ass with a grenade’, no. All I did was use the word fag to describe a homosexual. There’s nothing sinister behind it.”

“It’s what you’re implying,” said Melony.

Page groaned, “Let me stop you right there, Thought Police. Don’t you ever tell me what I’m implying. I said it; I know what I’m implying. You want to know where being offended derives from? When people get offended it means there was something about that topic of conversation that makes them uncomfortable within themselves, something that they don’t want to think about, something they don’t want to face. So instead of looking within themselves to face whatever is making them uncomfortable, they run from it. They tell you not to talk about it. They tell you it’s offensive.”

“I kinda know what you’re saying,” said Chad. “I called a black guy ‘colored’ once and he lost his shit. I mean…they are colored. What am I supposed to call them?”

Dallas and Page looked at each other and broke out into laughter.

Chad, feeling a little more confident, asked, “So how did you guys become hit-men?”

The two stopped laughing on a button.

“Take off your hat, Page,” said Dallas.

Page did as he was requested and removed his trucker hat, revealing a large shiny bald head with the exception of a few blonde straws reaching over to the other end like a desperate hand in the one-hundred-meter dash reaching for the finish line. The sight of this sent both Melony and Chad aback as, by the shaggy blonde mess that had been sticking out of Page’s hat, they had assumed he had a flourishing head of hair. Though they tried their best to avoid eye contact, they couldn’t help but stare.

“Now take off your glasses,” said Dallas.

Page did as he was requested and removed his aviator shades, revealing a pair of bright baby blue eyes. One of those eyes, however, was lazy and stayed staring at the bridge of his nose despite the fluent activity of its counterpart.

“Look at this bald-as-fuck, lazy-eyed monster in front of you,” said Dallas as he motioned to Page with one hand while driving with the other. “What exactly do you think the world has to offer an ugly cocksucker like this, huh? I got the answer for you–not fucking much! Do you think it’s a coincidence that most of the people who live a life of crime happen to be ugly as fuck? Society creates its own monsters by rejecting those who don’t correspond to popular opinion. So we got two choices; deal with the shitty hand the world has given us or go criminal.”

“This killing people shit keeps us paid,” said Page. “And we’re doing society a favor. We’re making the world safe for you fucking Beverly Hills bastards.”

“Oh…” said Chad. “But you kill who Tommy Cirvini says to kill.”

Dallas paused, “Yeah, well…We all gotta choose a side.”

The rest of the ride was silent after that.

***

Before long they were surrounded by the bright lights of the downtown skyscrapers and, after exiting on an off-ramp, they found themselves driving down a long strip of local college students out on their Friday night pub crawl. Soon after, they pulled up to the Bathhouse.

“Alright,” said Page, loading his shotgun. “Everyone put on their gay faces. Dallas: you’re cool; you already have a dick hole in your face.”

“Not fucking cool, dude,” Dallas replied. “But seriously, it might get squirmy in there so, I can’t believe I’m doing this but…”

Dallas pulled out a small revolver from the glove box and handed it to Chad, who held it in his hands like a new-born baby, afraid to make any sudden movements…or any movement at all for that matter.

“But I swear to God,” said Dallas. “If you try to go hero on me my partner will shoot you and then he will kill your girlfriend, your mother, your father, your grandfather–if he’s still alive, your grandmother–same stipulation…Shit, if you were involved in some sort of Big Brother program, which judging by what we know about you, you probably are–we’ll kill that fucking kid and his poor double shift working single mother too.”

“And I’ll do it too,” said Page plainly.

“I got it,” said Chad.

“Good,” said Dallas. “Now tuck it in the back so you don’t shoot yourself in the dick.”

Chad did as he was told and tucked the gun in the back of his pants. “Got it,” said Chad.

Dallas smiled, “I learned that little trick from a dude I met in the bin. A guy called Spinz…”

“Well that’s just riveting,” said Melony. “But what exactly is your plan? You’re just going to run in there shooting?”

“Hey, Melony…” said Chad softly.

Melony spun around, “What, Chad?!”

He leaned forward and said what everyone except Melony seemed to be thinking, “Why don’t you SHUT THE FUCK UP?!”

She darted back, frozen. Not in fear, but in shock, from a side she had yet to see in Chad until that every moment.

“They haven’t steered us wrong yet,” he continued. “We follow their lead.”

The box doors of the Civic clicked open and the four of them got out, concealing their individual firearms and heading across the street to the red light in the distance.

Before they got to the staircase leading down to the front entrance, Chad turned and said quietly to Dallas, “You’re not going to open fire on all these gay people, are you?”

Dallas stopped in his tracks, “What the fuck did I tell you? We kill the bad guys! Victor! The guy who was six deep in your girlfriend a couple hours ago, you remember him? Stop thinking about fags, you fucking faggot! Now straighten up and act gay as fuck!”

Page chuckled, “Easy to say from a guy wearing a golf tee two sizes too small for him.”

“I’m serious, Page!” warned Dallas. “Fuckin’ game faces, you hear me?

The door to the Bathhouse opened and the doorman was met with four smiling, happy faces surrounding the doorway like a pack of eager Christmas carolers. And, much like their Christmas caroler appearance, they spoke in chorus with a proud but painfully awkward, “Heeeyyyy!”

The doorman scanned over the odd quartet for a moment and then ushered them inside. Once in the main hallway of the Bathhouse, there was another man behind a glass partition, who asked Chad what kind of accommodation he was looking for. Chad, who was quite nervous, began bumbling nonsensical words and sounds until Dallas finally stepped forward and spoke for him, saying, “We’ll take a viewing room, please.”

“Fantastic,” said the man behind the glass. “30 dollars.”

Dallas gave Chad a nudge in the arm, “Pay the man.”

“Why me?” asked Chad.

Dallas groaned, “‘Cuz you’re the fucking ten thousandth customer, just fucking do it!”

Chad shook his head in protest, “I really don’t think it’s my responsibility…”

Melony rolled her eyes, “Oh. My. God! You guys are ridiculous! Here…”

She pulled out two twenty dollar bills and slid it under the opening in the glass. The man then took her money and gave her the appropriate change as well as the keys to their rooms.

“Everything okay?” asked the man behind the glass.

Melony shrugged. “They just have a serious case of blue balls…”

“I see,” said the man with a smile. “Manuel will show you to your room. Enjoy!”

And just as the man said, the doorman ushered the four of them down the hall to their room.

Once inside, Chad said, “Did you see all those holes in the hallway wall? Looks like there was already a shootout in here…”

Page chuckled, “Those ain’t bullet holes, buddy.”

“So what now?” asked Melony. “How do we find Victor?”

Dallas passed the bed and pulled back a large set of curtains on the far wall as he turned to Melony and said, “It’s not going to be easy. One of us is going to have to stay here and stake out the viewing rooms. Then, either Page or myself will go door to door and see if Victor is in any of the private rooms–”

Melony raised her hand, “Uh, Dallas?”

“Quiet,” said Dallas. “Meanwhile, Chad or you will have to scan the glory holes to see if you can find his dick. Melony, I would suggest you since you’ve seen a lot of that dick and you know what to look for…”

Chad interrupted, “Dallas?”

“This is no time to be self-conscious, kid,” said Dallas. “Your girl cheated on you, it sucks, I get it. But we need to keep our eyes on the prize.”

Finally, both Melony and Chad pointed to the viewing window behind Dallas and screamed, “Dallas! Look!”

Dallas turned and looked through the window into the next room. There, laid out on the bed, getting his penis sucked, was Victor.

“Motherfucker…” whispered Dallas.

Then, he and his partner raised their weapons.

Page smiled as he cocked back the hammer of his sawed-off. “Ding-Dong, bitch!”

What followed was a storm of bullets that hailed into the next room, blasting through the window separating the lodgings and sending thousands of tiny shards of glass crashing to the floor. The man sucking Victor’s dick sprang up and jumped from the bed like a grasshopper, fleeing the room in seconds. Victor lied perfectly still.

Dallas walked through the shattered glass, his weapon still aimed directly at Victors’ head.

“Get the fuck out here,” he growled.

Victor did as he was ordered and, cupping his testicles, got off from the bed and carefully stepped over the jagged shards of glass, into the next room.

“Please,” begged Victor. “Don’t kill me. I’ll get Cirvini his money, I swear! I swear to you!”

Melony, who had been absolutely heartbroken at the sight of her boyfriend getting his dick sucked from another man, broke into tears and came rushing over to him, banging her fists on his bare chest as she cried out, “How could you do this to me?! You told me you love me!”

At that very moment, Victor knelt to the floor and picked up a jagged piece of glass. He grabbed Melony and pressed it to her throat.

“Back off!” he screamed. “I’ll kill the bitch! I swear I will!”

Dallas took a cautious step forward. “Don’t be stupid!”

Victor pressed the edge of the glass into her neck. It broke the skin and a thin stream of blood drizzled down to her collarbone.

“Not another step!” yelled Victor. “I mean it! I’ll kill her!”

BAM!

A sudden, deafening pop filled the room and Victor dropped from behind Melony, dead. This confused the Pizza Guys, as the bullet did not come from Dallas’ glock, nor did it come from Page’s sawed-off. In fact, everyone stood still for a moment wondering just where the shot had come from…until they saw Chad in the corner, the revolver in his hands and a stream of smoke rising up from the barrel.

Dallas smiled in relief. “Nice fucking shot, kid…”

At that moment the Pizza Guys lowered their weapons and Melony ran to Chad, throwing her hands around him and bursting into tears.

***

After a long, silent drive back to Melony’s parents’ estate, Chad and Melony were let free from the box civic.

“You really went above and beyond the call of duty today,” said Dallas, leaning out the driver side window. “If you ever want to join the team, let me know.”

“Thanks,” said Chad. “Uh, how do I find you?”

Dallas chuckled, “Just order a pizza.”

And with that, the two Pizza Guys drove off down the hill towards the front gate and out into the early morning.

Chad and Melony stood there in awkward silence. Melony finally broke the tension.

“Listen, Chad,” she said. “I just want to say, I’m sorry…I-I never meant for you to get hurt.”

“Then why?” asked Chad. “Why did you do it?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know. Victor was just so dangerous and mysterious…I just couldn’t help myself. I mean, you’re super nice to me but…sometimes you’re too nice. And you’re so plain and boring…and you drive a Mazda 3.”

Chad looked at his feet, “Oh…”

Then she grabbed his hand and pulled it close. “But tonight you proved how brave you can be! You saved me! That’s when I knew you could be dangerous, you could be a bad boy!”

“I loved you so much,” said Chad. “For so long I thought that if I could just date someone who was really pretty, then that would make me a better person, that it would raise my value as a man…But I know now that I was wrong.”

Then he pulled his hand from hers and continued, “Maybe the reason that I was so plain and boring with you was that you didn’t inspire me to be anything but. Tonight I realized it has been a long time since I have been inspired, probably because I have spent all my time trying to be the man you want me to be instead of finding a girl who loves the man that I am. You are a spoiled, selfish, and inconsiderate human being, Melony, and I mean this when I say it…Go fuck yourself!”

And with that, Chad left Melony alone on her front steps as he got into his “Midnight Blue” Mazda 3 and drove off out into the world with his head held high…and his balls firmly back in place.

The End.