Thursday, September 7, 2006
The five minutes I spent in line caused me to drift into the fucked-up fantasy land my head often travels to periodically throughout the day. I began to imagine what all these strangers would do if I decided to pile up 10 slices on my plate. There was already a buzz that there may not even be enough pizza to feed the entire staff. As murmurs of “they only got 25 pizzas?” grew in the air so did my aspiration to just grab 4 boxes of pizza and take them to my desk. I wasn’t even that hungry and I am only able to really eat two slices in one sitting ( unlike the entire pies I could once devour when I was a food addicted yet surprisingly slender child) but just to see the looks of horror on my office mates faces as this quiet, unknown, extremely adorable girl from the copy department shoveled slice upon slice on her flimsy plate while sucking the grease off her paws and splattering cheese on her clearly more casual than corporate outfit of jeans and a tank top would have been absolutely delightful.
What would they have done? Now, this thought ignited the fantasy of a post pizza hoarding scenario. The office manger would tackle me to ground tugging the slices from my hands as I screamed out “But your email said free lunch! Give me back my pepperoni!” Other staffers would jump in, some to save the office manager as I went to kick her arm that had a strong grip on my pepper and onion pie, while others simply dove in to save that perfectly good mushroom slice from falling to the floor. Finally the GM would come in and ask “what the hell was going here!” as everyone pointed to me and mangled mush of destroyed pizza boxes and spilled soda pop. (The soda spilled when Marsha in HR stood on her cubicle and tried to drop kick the parmesan cheese out from my under my arm, she missed me and fell on top of about 10 cases of Coke and Diet Coke. Did I forget to mention that part?) As he’d ask me to get my things and please leave the office, I’d wipe the tomato sauce (now mixed with blood from my busted nose) from my mouth and splash it on the floor saying “yes sir.” Then just as I was about to exit the office I’d run back and grab the last undamaged pizza from the table and run.
By the time it was actually my turn to select my slices I was already full, full of delight that is ( and I suppose pretty full of myself). Even though nothing extraordinary occurred as it did in my little mind montage, I still had the same kind of sinister grin on my face that my 8 month niece gets when she’s in the midst of doing a major poopy in her recently changed diaper. I took two slices, smiling at passer-bys as I returned to my desk. After I finished my lunch I couldn’t help but walk past the pizza party again just to test myself and unfortunately I did nothing, at least not this time…