Ordering Pizza, WC: 423

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Hedwig

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“You wanna make the call?” Garry asked, offering Cara the menu.

“You can,” she said, not glancing from her magazine. Garry pulled his arm back.

“You wanted the pizza,” He tried again.

“I’m in the middle of an article,” Cara said, her eyes fixed resolutely on the page.

“Right,” Garry said, blinking. The phone number on the cover of the menu was large and red. He opened the menu again. An appetizer might be nice. He stared at the list of garlic breads and salads. Minutes passed.

“I’m getting hungry,” Cara said, switching her gaze from the magazine to a brown spot on her arm.

“Right,” said Garry, “Need some quiet.” He slunk away to the kitchen. He opened the freezer and cool air washed over him. They might have a frozen pizza he could put in the oven. But Cara had wanted take-out.

Garry produced the cell phone from his pocket. As the heat crept up his face, he unlocked his phone. He was half a second away from opening the keypad when his eye flicked to his weather app, now sporting a blue notification icon.

He opened the app.

Severe thunderstorm warning until 8 p.m.

Momentarily, he pondered the logistics of passing through two doors while balancing both a pizza and an umbrella and then minimized the app and reopened the menu. One large New York Style pizza with sausage, he rehearsed. New York Style. Sausage.

He slowly dialed the number on the cover. It rang for an eternity. The phone was hot against his ear, and his hearth thumped loudly.

“Toni’s Pizza,” a voice finally answered. Garry paused, thrown by the brevity of the greeting. “Hello?”

“Hi,” Garry answered in a puff.

“Can I help you?”

“I’d like to place an order for pick-up,” Garry said, taking pains to keep his voice clear.

“What will you have?”

Thank goodness for easy questions. “One large New York Style pizza with . . .” Garry flipped the page specifically to stare at the word, “Sausage.”

“Large New York pizza with sausage,” the voice repeated. “That all?”

“No – sorry – yes. Yes, that’s it.” Garry’s neck prickled. Stupid, stupid.

“Thirty minutes,” the voice said, and the line went dead.

Garry stretched his arms in a wide arc over his head. He folded the menu and flicked it onto the kitchen table. Marching back into the living room, he announced with a smile, “One large New York Style pizza with sausage, T-minus 30 minutes.”

Cara looked up.

“I thought we agreed on bacon?”
 

Gunpowder Nash

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Nice story, and very typical to have someone too aloof to choose at one moment, only to criticize your choice the next.
Now, why did Garry (with 2 r's) order pick up just after seeing the storm warning. I'd have had them deliver, but I bet he'd prefer to get out of the house for a bit regardless, since Cara seems such a prize! I am letting my imagination run away again.
I like the ending, and it made me smile, as I have dealt with people like Cara before.
 

Joseph Schmol

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“You wanna make the call?” Garry asked, offering Cara the menu.

What if this opening was constructed in reverse (instead of dialogue first, with action trailing; action first)? I think it would be more "real" (closer to real time) and perhaps, feel more immediate. i.e., Garry offered Cara the menu. "You wanna make the call?"

“You can,” she said, not glancing from her magazine. Garry pulled his arm back. ditto

“You wanted the pizza,” he tried again.

“I’m in the middle of an article,” Cara said, her eyes fixed resolutely on the page. Her "resoluteness" is already well established.

“Right,” Garry said, blinking. The phone number on the cover of the menu was large and red. He opened the menu again. An appetizer might be nice. He stared at the list of garlic breads and salads. Minutes passed.

“I’m getting hungry,” Cara said, switching her gaze from the magazine to a brown spot on her arm. nice detail

“Right,” said Garry, “Need some quiet.” He slunk away a bit of heavy-handed W/C to the kitchen. He opened the freezer and cool air washed over him. W/C They might have a frozen pizza he could put in the oven. But Cara had wanted take-out.

Garry produced the cell phone from his pocket. As the heat crept up his face, he unlocked his phone. He was half a second away from opening the keypad when his eye flicked to his weather app, now sporting a blue notification icon.

He opened the app.

Severe thunderstorm warning until 8 p.m.

Momentarily, He pondered the logistics of passing through two doors while balancing both a pizza and an umbrella and then minimized the app and reopened the menu. One large New York Style pizza with sausage, he rehearsed. New York Style. Sausage.

He slowly dialed the number on the cover. It rang for an eternity. The phone was hot against his ear, and his hearth thumped loudly.

“Toni’s Pizza,” a voice finally answered. Garry paused, thrown by the brevity of the greeting. “Hello?”

“Hi,” Garry answered in a puff. unsure what this means

“Can I help you?”

“I’d like to place an order for pick-up,” Garry said, taking pains to keep his voice clear.

“What will you have?”

Thank goodness for easy questions. “One large New York Style pizza with . . .” Garry flipped the page specifically to stare at the word, “Sausage.”

“Large New York pizza with sausage,” the voice repeated. “That all?”

“No – sorry – yes. Yes, that’s it.” Garry’s neck prickled. Stupid, stupid. I think you might want to italicize here

“Thirty minutes,” the voice said, and the line went dead. Nice touch of reality here!

Garry stretched his arms in a wide arc over his head. He folded the menu and flicked it onto the kitchen table. Marching back into the living room, he announced with a smile, “One large New York Style pizza with sausage, T-minus 30 minutes.”

Cara looked up.

“I thought we agreed on bacon?”
I really like this last line -- you nailed it!

Interesting piece, Hedwig. I especially like how you establish, and maintain, an undercurrent of dissatisfaction. Nicely done.

I added a couple of thoughts to the text above.
 
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Elianne

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Just one quick feedback: The pizza guy didn't ask for Garry's address?