Content Warning: Mildly abrasive language

“You’ve reached Pizzaton, the mos-“

“WHAT?! N-no…no-no-no-no-!”

The underpaid cashier at the counter rolled her eyes with a click of her tongue. “Don’t be such a drama queen, m’kay? So you got Pizzaton, we’re not that bad. It’s all, like, rumors-”

“I don’t care!” the voice on the other side interrupted, one she could only assume belonged to a man going through some bad trip. “I don’t need a pizza place, I-augh, I need help!”

“Okay, first of all, you gotta, like, chill an quit yellin’, ‘s not my fault that-“

“Police, pleas-hrrk,” the man coughed and grunted, labored breathing turning into a mutter, “maybe if…haa…maybe if he thinks I’m on the phone with someone h-he…he won’t get closer…”

“But you’re, like, are talking to someone-“ this time it was a crumpling sound on the other side that interrupted her, “Sir, you okay?”

“No, I’m not ok-! Shit, I think that-“ he gasped, voice sounding farther for a second, “what was that?!”

“Wait, are you doin’ this sorta prank thing?”

“Why would I-?!” there was a brief pause on the other side, “I tried to call the police and accidentally called Pizzartron-“

“Pizzaton-“

“Like it fucking matters!”

“How did you even, though?”

“Wha-? I don’t- My finger slipped, alright?!”

“Ooookay, so why don’t you, like, call the cops now?” she sighed, signing a silent ‘cuckoo’ motion to a nearby coworker who gave her a quizzical look as to what was taking so long. “I got more customers on the line that just have to know what’s the difference between green and red peppers.”

“Oh for the love of-“ another grunt and labored panting were heard, “ah, shit…”

“Ew, you’re being a total wheezer. Don’tcha know it’s dangerous to run alone at night?”

“I’m not- I don’t…oh god…” an unapologetic cough cut the man off, right into the phone.

“Y’know, your coughing sounds realllly bad. Maybe you shouldn’t smoke while running?”

“That’s not funny. Hhha I wish this was because- because I smoked…”

“Mmmmkay, so like, I need to get back to work, so-“

“Wait!” the man sputtered and coughed again, “Please, stay on the line with me…I’m…Wh-where is your store, where’s that Pizzatr-“ he grunted again, “Pizzaton?”

“On the corner of 8th and Olive. Do you…want you make an order to go, or like…what?”

“8th? Th…that’s great! There are always people on 8th-“ his excitement soon dampened with a pained murmur, “ow, shit…”

“No seriously, what is up with you?”

“Listen, uh…um…miss. Is there…i-is there a first aid kit there? In the restaurant?”

“I dunno, should be. Why?”

“You don’t- Take a fucking guess!”

“Look, I don’t know what your deal is, SIR, but if you gonna get loud with me one more time I’m totally hanging up on you.”

“NO!” he snapped, reeling back and panting in pain,“aaargh, okay! Okay. Look, I’m in Spring Street…it’s, uh…hhha…how far is this from you- from the place?”

“That depends, like, on which part of Spring Street you are? That’s a ha-huge street.”

“I…I’m not sure, I can’t see any signs, and…” he paused again, sounding dizzy, “I-I don’t know which why I’m going.”

“Just look around, what’s there?”

“There’s, uh…a fountain? At some plaza? One with lights and…some poor excuse for a water stream…there’s also a walkway, I think?” He had to pause and catch his breath, tongue smacking as if cotton mouthed. “Bunch of statues of a guy on a horse, and…I don’t know, it looks like someone conned the mayor into believing it’s art…”

“There’s horses and fountains in like…everywhere. It’s his thing. What else?”

“It’s…man, it’s dark,” she could hear dragging feet as he moved ahead.“Wait, I…I think I see a…Playground? Wow that looks so…ominous, in the dark. Heh. Ain’t that ironic, that if there were still kids there it would be…hhh…so much scarier.”

“Oh, ‘kay, so you’re not that far. Just go across the playground, it’ll get you to the 7th, and if you cross that you get to the 8th. Cool?”

“Y-yeah, yeah. Cool-cool-cool, that doesn’t…that doesn’t sound so bad,” another moment to catch his breath. “H-hey, uh…can I ask a favor?”

She hesitated, squinting as if he could see her. By that point everyone around was already invested in the conversation. She switched to the speaker, just in case things get weird. "What kind of favor?"

"When I’ll get there…are-are you at the counter?”

“Yyyyeah…”

“Could you…could you get me inside, right to the first aid kit?” his voice wavered. “Before…before someone notices? I think it’s better your customers won’t see me…”

“Wait, why? How would I even know it’s you?”

“Because…” some shuffling of feet could be heard, muffled, “I’ll be the one bleeding from the waist…”

“C’mon-“

“I swear I’m not joking…”

“Wait you’re…like, you’re totally serious-“

“Hey, what’s uh…” he stopped her again, stalling as if he was an indecisive customer scanning the menu, “what’s your moooost expensive pie?”

“The…most expensive?”

“You know, for…for a person, not party sized, heh,” he chuckled, mood oddly lifted. “Just for me.”

“Uh…you mean the Royal-Combo-Deluxe?”

“Yeah, yeah. That sounds expensive, yeah,” he exhaled, coughing again,“if…if I get to your shop sometime…conscious…I’ll get that.”

“What’d you mean ‘if’-?” a thud cut her off, and a wave of concerned looks went between workers and customers listening in. “Wh-what was that? Did something fell over?”

“Yeah, haha. The uh…the sidewalk got really close, suddenly…”

“Are you…okay, sir?”

A dreaded silence followed from the other side of the call.

“Hey, are you there?”

People shifted around the counter, taking out their phones.

“Hello? …Hello?”

A week has passed.

It was a quiet noon shift, and everyone were halfheartedly listening to a news report coming from a screen hanging close to the ceiling, a low-volume murmur about a solved shooting case in the area, a week earlier.

The phone rang into the calm of the restaurant, and the cashier at the counter picked it up.

“Welcome to Pizzaton, how can I help you?”

“I’d like to order a pizza, please.”

She rolled her eyes. Well, duh, sir. “That’s what we do, sir. What’d you like?”

“Someone recommended me the Royal-Combo-Deluxe, about a week ago.”

She paused, feeling relief from a numb tension she didn’t even realize she felt. “Heeey…Y’know, you sound different when you don’t wheeze like a chain-smoking perv.”

“Can I pick up from the restaurant? Corner of 8th and Olive, right?”

“Look at you, remembering things.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised, too. How much do I owe you?”

“That’ll be…” she looked around. Curious looks followed as other employees seemed to have figured out who was calling, “…on the house. Tip not included, though.”