Trevor had worked as the delivery guy for Gio's Pizza for the past three years, but this stop took the prize as one of the weirdest he'd ever experienced.
He knocked on the door at the home on Barrie Lane, pizza carton with a large sausage and pepperoni, extra cheese, in the warmer held in his hands.
When the door opened, two rugrats in their cartoon undies looked up at him. The one in the Sesame Street briefs yelled his head off and did a little dance. "It's the pizza! It's the pizza!"
The other kid, a little calmer, spoke in a wispy voice. "You made good time."
Trevor looked puzzled as he entered the house. He saw the kitchen and made a beeline, the two tykes following in his wake. He unzipped the insulated vinyl warmer and pulled the pizza box from its cozy envelope. He placed the box in the middle of the kitchen table and turned to see the quiet kid, a wallet in one hand, extending a credit card with the other.
"Listen, kid, where's mom or dad?" Trevor asked. He declined the credit card. "I don't think this is your card, so I can't accept it."
"What's he mean?" The other kid wailed. "Is he not gonna give us our pizza?"
"Oliver, calm down," snapped the kid with the wallet. He opened the wallet and took out a twenty. "That should cover it," the kid chirruped.
Trevor stifled a groan. The pie cost $19.97, which would give him a tip of exactly three cents. He felt steamed. "Look, I am going to need to see..."
"Our dad's in the shower..." The wallet kid spoke quickly and gestured down the hallway. "He said for us to pay you."
Trevor craned his head and heard the sound of running water from a room halfway down the hall.
"Never had anyone pull this sort of trick," he groused, thinking the old man had faked a shower to get out of paying him a tip.
The quiet kid had wandered off to join the excitable one at the table. Trevor, still angry, started to leave when he glanced down at the counter. His eye caught a silver ring beneath a cake dome. In a smooth motion, without even stopping to debate, he lifted the dome and swiped the ring. "Screw me, will you," he thought to himself. The ring looked like real silver and should more than make up for the lack of a tip. He'd never ever done anything like this in his life, but this was the third stop tonight where he'd been stiffed of a tip.
As he replaced the dome on the cake stand, he looked across the room. The boys were standing in kitchen chairs and lifting the lid on the large carton, giving Trevor nary a thought or glance.
"Enjoy," Trevor said sarcastically while slipping the ring into his pocket. He'd wasted enough time and had two more stops to make before heading back to the restaurant.