Just Pizza

Any decent human being wouldn't desire to live in a place where the walls smell strongly of second hand smoke. They also wouldn't desire to live in a place with a cracked ceiling and with a prostitute as a neighbor. But, yet again, Pete was never deemed "a decent human being" by society's standards. his apartment was disgusting, but Pete didn't mind the place he lived. Even though this place was run down, smelly and trashy, to Pete it was home. The cracked ceilings, broken pipes, occasional gun shot, and low rent were what made it home. To him it was perfect.
“Apartment” isn't even a word that should define this place.
.
.
.
Shit hole seems more fitting.
And this shit hole was worse at night then it was in the day.
Pete tossed and turned constantly in his bed. Each position was more painful and uncomfortable than the last. The blankets were like a furnace, they held in so much heat, Pete began to sweat. So, he would quickly kick them to the floor, but the air would become brisk, so he would pull them back onto the bed, just as quickly as he tossed them off.
This process repeated for ten minutes.
There was a massive kink in his neck and the pillows that were stacked beneath weren't easing the pain by much. The pain then began to pulse through other places on his body. It traveled from his neck to his back, his shoulder, and then his side. Pete stretched himself out, hoping that would solve the problem. It didn't help much, it just made the situation worse. That’s when Pete decided to feel around his covers for his cell phone, when he finally grasps it, he checks the time.
2:45 AM….
In mild frustration, Pete decided to give up the fight for sleep. He sat up and rubbed his sleepy eyes, with a harsh sigh he stumbled from the bed, tripping over dirty clothes that were scattered all over the floor and boxes of random junk he was always too lazy to go through. Pete’s bedroom was always a slight bit messy. There were always clothes on the floor or a pile of crap somewhere. The only place that seemed to be spotless was his clothing hamper….
Stumbling into the living room, he plopped himself onto his half broken couch. Even though there were rips, tears, and stuffing busting from the seams, the couch always stayed super comfortable. He curled himself into a tiny ball and wrapped himself in an old blanket as he flipped on the TV. The picture was a bit fuzzy, but it was clear enough for Pete. He searched through his fair share of late night/early morning horror films that were playing. He flipped from horror film to horror film. There was A Nightmare on Elm Street, Jason, Scream (which was more funny then scary…), Silence of the Lambs, Halloween….
And then he finally settled on one.
Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
Pete liked scary movies. No, he LOVED scary movies. He’s obsessed actually. He knows all the famous horror movie quotes from the top of his head. Most people can’t catch him when he says one, but in his head, he feels the mild satisfaction of remembering the line.
Horror movies are one of Pete’s hobbies.
Pete was curled up in the far corner of the couch, watching Leather Face saw a victim. He let out a big sigh, and stared at the screen. His eyes were heavy with sleep. No matter how much he tried to sleep he would always find himself giving up and plopping on the couch to channel surf. The sleep that Pete gets is very little. It’s amazing that he can function during the day without having any sleep for 3 days.
Pete. Has. insomnia.
Insomnia is on the long mental list Pete has of things that are wrong with him. He is used to his daily routine of staying up all hours. But just because you are used to something, it never means you’re ok with it. You learn to block things out as if they don’t bother you but they secretly rip you apart inside. Pete knows this feeling too well.
Pete thumbed over an old scar that was on his arm. The skin felt soft and raised. It’s been there for a few years now. He tells everyone it was from an “accident”.
But no accident happens on purpose.
Pete knows that, But who wants to dish their life story to people who obviously will be oblivious to the situation? Everyone acts like they understand but no one really does. No one can ever fully understand. Hot tears burned Pete’s eyes, he started to become hysterical. Lack of sleep, headaches, followed by remembering past memories equal the perfect panic attack situation. Pete’s hands began to shake and he quickly rose from the couch. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and looked around the room frantically for something, anything that could calm him down. He then walked back into his bedroom and pulls something from underneath his bed.
---
Pete finally managed to get a little bit of sleep. The sun ran though his window and blinded him. He quickly covered his eyes with his arm and almost dropped his bong onto the floor. That would have been another mess Pete would dread cleaning up. Pete stretched out his arms and slowly sat up and hopped off his bed. He stumbled his way through the hallway and into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door and winced at the lack of choices. He slammed the door shut and went into his cabinet and grabbed out a jar of peanut butter and bread. Pete then picked up his cell phone and dialed a familiar number; he listened to the line ring.
1, 2, 3 rings.
“Hello?” a soft voice said.
“MOMMY!” Pete practically yelled into the phone. He could hear his mother laugh on the other line.
Ever since Pete moved out of his mother’s house, he has called her every single day. Most people would love to not have their mother around after they move out, but that isn’t the case with Pete. Pete loves his mom. And he could talk to her all day. His mom was the most important thing to him.
“How are you honey?” Pete’s mom said, Laughter still fresh in the air.
“I’m fine! Just ya know….. Trying to make breakfast!” Pete slapped a huge spoon full of peanut butter on bread. “How are you?”
“I’m just fine honey.” He could tell something was up.
“Well that’s great….” Pete put another mound of peanut butter on his bread slice.
“Pete, I need to talk to you about something….” Uh oh… Pete thought. He put the spoon down on the counter.
“Um, ok. Is everything ok mom?” Pete was worried.
“I’m worried about you…. I got a call from your therapist…. You canceled your appointments… why?” Pete was slightly relieved that nothing happened to his mom, but he had been avoiding this topic with his mother and he really doesn’t want to talk about it.
He sighed, “Mom, I can’t afford it…..”
“But, honey…. It’s ok! I’m fine with paying for the treatment!” Pete’s mom has been paying for his therapist appointments since Pete was 13. Pete loves that his mom cares about him so much, but he can’t help but feel he’s caused her too much trouble. And Pete hates that.
“Mom, that’s really nice, but I just can’t take money from you. I feel terrible if I do.” He sighed.
“But honey, I love you, and If this is helping you, then I want you to keep going to therapy.” Pete stayed quiet for a while. He was trying to think of something he could say. He almost feels embarrassed. He put so much stress on his mother throughout the years and now he continues to do so.
“Pete, are you still taking your medication?” his mother asked.
“Yes mom. Every day.” He cringed.
“Well good…..” sensing the tension, Pete’s mom decided to change the topic.
“So, did you get yourself a boyfriend yet?” Pete’s face blushed.
“MOM!” he practically yelled again. His mother laughed.
“What? I’m just wondering.”
“Mom you ask me that every day, and the answer is always no!” Pete was turning very red.
“Do you at least have your eye on someone?” his mom pushed.
“Mom this conversation is over. Good bye.”
“Bye honey!” she was about to hang up
“WAIT!” Pete screamed.
“What? Is everything ok?” Pete’s mom got worried.
“I love you mom! Bye!” Pete laughed.
“I love you too sweetie!” she smiled and they both hung up.
---
Pete sat himself down on his busted up couch while he stuffed his face with a peanut butter sandwich. And a tall diet coke to wash it down. Pete flipped on the TV and started watching cartoons as he ate. Pete always had a specific way he ate his sandwiches, he had to have it cut into fours. And the four slices had to be triangles. Pete would take the top piece first. Occasionally he would dip part of it in his soda, which was an old childhood habit, and then he would eat it. Pete always peeled the crusts off and threw them back onto his plate. Pete would then finish off the pieces counter clockwise.
This was one of Pete’s strange habits.
Pete had moved onto his second piece while he continued to watch cartoons on the cartoon network. Pete was huddled underneath an old blanket he’s has since he was little. He always refuses to get rid of that blanked no matter how many tears are in it. It’s the softest thing he has ever felt. Pete curls himself into a ball again and continues to snack on his sandwich triangles. After Pete finished his final slice he tossed the plate onto the table near him and sprawled out onto the couch.
Pete don’t give a shit.
Pete was also still hungry….
So, he decided to sprawl out in a ridiculous pose on the couch and make awkward noises to express his inner hunger pain. Pete had expressed his hunger for about 5 minutes, he then slowly sat up and went to the change jar he keeps in his room and dumped it on the chest in the middle of his living room that he used as a coffee table. He separated each coin. He had a stack for quarters, nickels, dimes, pennies, and miscellaneous objects he found. As he counted, he found out he had over $50 dollars saved up in quarters. Pete was surprised, and then he thought “I can totally buy a pizza with this!” Pete fishes through the piles of food menus that were all around the floor and found the one he was looking for, Pizza Hut. Pete dialed the number on his cell. The phone rang 1, 2, 3, 4 times….
“Um…. H-hi….” a soft voice spoke. Pete could barely hear it, “This is P-Pizza Hut…. How can I help y-you?” Pete paused for a moment, he smiled and then spoke.
“Hey sweetie,” Pete laughed slightly, “I would like an extra-large cheese pizza for delivery please.”
“Um….. ok…… umm….” Pete could tell this guy was nervous, so Pete read him his address before he could ask for it. Pete smiled, the boy sounded so shy.
It was kind of cute.
“That will be….. um…. Te-ten fifty…” Pete smiled again at the boy’s shyness.
“Ok sweetie, thank you!”
“…….Bye.” the boy hung up quickly.
Pete sighed and let out a small laugh. Then he slumped down into the couch and channel surfed. Pete thought about the boy on the phone, the way his voice flowed through the small speaker that were just barely audible, the tiny puffs of air that came out when he stuttered, and the softness in the tone his voice had. Pete loved it. Pete pulled the blanket up over himself and watched some TV special on ghosts.
Pete pretty much lives on his couch. Every day, almost 24/7 he’s laying there on the couch. Since Pete lives alone there isn’t much left to do, and he has to entertain himself. He was used to that though, even before he moved out of his mother’s house. Pete never had many friends throughout his life, so he has learned how to keep himself busy. Pete is an artsy person. He loves to paint, draw, write music, and play instruments. With the infinite possibilities he was always kept amused.
That and his child like personality.
Pete had started to see how long he can balance a plastic cup on his fore head while walking through the house. It was stupid but at the time it was the most interesting thing to him. He stubbed his toe a few times just trying to get the hang of it, and he also ran into a wall.
Again
And again……
Eventually there was a knock on his door, and he dropped the cup, and looked through the peep hole on his door
It was a boy, his head hanging low…
He was holding a pizza.
Pete smiled and opened the door, “hello!” Pete beamed. But the boy didn’t even meet his eyes. He took a good look at him. The boy was about the same height as Pete, maybe a little bit shorter. Small bunches of reddish, blondish hair poked out from his red brimmed hat. The boy shook slightly as he stood there. His nervousness was taking over. Pete noticed the many colorful wrist bands that covered the boy’s arms. And he also noticed the way his shoes were worn out; he looked at the small doodles on the boy’s converse and smiled again. He noticed the small rips in the boy’s skinny jeans and the way the boy shook. As he scanned his eyes back up him and noticed a few small scratches on the boy’s arm, and one on his hand. The boy’s work shirt had a few small stains splattered here and there.
Pete wished he could see the boy’s face…
“Thank you so much! Hold on,” Pete grabbed the pizza, “let me get your money!” he smiled and put the pizza on the couch as he counted up the quarters.
“Sorry, I’m taking so long…..” Pete laughed. The boy continued to hang his head low.
“…….it’s fine….” He heard the boy say. His voice was so small. Pete hurried up. The boy poked his head up slightly and took a look at Pete. He noticed the way Pete looked as if he just rolled out of bed, His messy black hair flopping around his face, the way it seemed to fall in the perfect place every time he moved his head around. He stared at the tattoos he saw that covered Pete’s arms, and at the bright smile Pete had. The boy was a bit fascinated by Pete. The boy bit his lip slightly while looking at Pete.
He was instantly attracted. Even though Pete looked slightly scruffy, the boy thought he was very handsome. Pete looked up at the boy and when he saw Pete, the boy instantly looked down, his face grew slightly red. Pete smiled and laughed slightly. Pete stood up from the table. He had finished counting. Pete shoved the quarters in a big zip lock back and handed it to the pizza boy. Pete reached in his pocket and pulled out a small wad of cash.
“Here, I got the pizza money, and a tip for you.” The boy took the money from Pete and sighed softly.
“….y-you didn't n-need to tip m-me….” The boy said. Pete took the time to glance at the boy’s name tag. The boy’s name was Patrick. The name seemed to fit him well. Pete wasn't sure why. But the way it sounded seemed to fit the boy. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.
“You deserve it. Take it. Please, Patrick….” Pete said. Patrick seemed slightly puzzled and his head shot up, he started shaking a bit harder.
“How do you know my name?” Patrick stuttered and shook…. He was scared.
“You have a name tag sweetie.” Pete said, he smiled warmly, “now take my money.” Pete laughed.
Patrick calmed down slightly and he blushed and looked back down.
“Thank you….” Patrick said quietly. Pete was smiling wide.
“No problem sweetie!” Pete said. Patrick started to turn away like he was going to leave. Pete called after him.
“You should really hold your head up more, let people see you. You’re super cute.” Patrick blushed more.
“h-have a nice d-day.” He stuttered, and turned away. Pete shut the door and plopped back on the couch to enjoy his pizza.