THE MAN FROM THE SHADOWS

..AND OTHER UNSAVOURY CHARACTERS I MET LAST NIGHT

Holy hell, the weirdos wanted to eat pizza last night.

WEIRDO #1 was the man who smelt a bit like mouldering vegetables and seemed to have some kind of split personality disorder. Now, I don't want to make light of people with that disorder (or similar psychos), but man he freaked me out. He opens the door, stares at me with cold, dead eyes, and says "I don't want that". Then he points at the pizza I am holding. The pizza he ordered.

"Uh... you don't want this?" I ask.
"No."
"Oh... okay, well I'll be off then."

I turn to go. Whatever, it's not like people being jerks is particularly uncommon in this job. Some people in particular seem to think I don't get paid if the pizza doesn't get delivered, so they try and use this as leverage to haggle with me over the price. What they don't realise is that if the pizza doesn't get delivered, not only do I still get paid, but I get to eat the pizza. So, yeah, whatever, it's not like I'm crying blood over this guy being a douche.

I make it about two steps down his overgrown garden path before his voice peals out behind me.

"Oh man, that smells delicious! How much do I owe you?"
"Uh... 11.49?"
"Excellent."

He hands me a twenty pound note.

"You can keep the change."
"Wow! Thanks!"

I turn to leave, the man's insanity forgiven in an instant. An £8.51 tip? I don't make that in a fucking hour. Hell, I barely make that in two hours. What a hero this man is, I think as I make my way down the garden path for the second time. Also for the second time, his voice brings me to a halt.

"Excuse me?"
"Yes?"
"Can I have my change, please?"


WEIRDO #2 was THE MAN FROM THE SHADOWS. I go out to this shitty block of flats, which as usual is pretty poorly lit as you walk up through the stairwells. That's normal; what isn't normal is when the guy opens the door to his flat and it's ABSOLUTELY PITCH BLACK INSIDE. If there were rooms back there with the light on, they must have had doors that were perfectly fitted to the doorframe, because I couldn't see a fucking iota of light in there. And if the doors were that precisely fitted, that'd be the first time I'd seen good craftsmanship in a council flat round these parts.

When I tell him how much it costs, he mutters something, and melds back into the darkness. I hear a door open, but I see nothing. Nothing. All is blackness. When he returned, it was like he apparated or some Harry Potter shit like that. One minute, blackness, the void, oblivion, the sheer nothingness of his flat threatening to suck me in and swallow me whole... the next, a pasty dude in a foetid-looking dressing gown is standing so close to me I can make out the hairs on his chin through the gloom, thrusting a wad of filthy notes in my face with another barely-audible grunt.

On the other hand, this necromancer (or sexual deviant, whatever) told me I could keep the change, and unlike schizo-guy he actually followed through on the offer. All hail the necromancer.

ALL HAIL THE DARKNESS


WEIRDO #3 wasn't so much a weirdo as a massive cunt who I swear, one of these days, I will have my revenge on. He was sitting on his fucking sofa as I pulled up, I could see him through the window, but when I ring the bell, he doesn't get up and move. I ring again. Nothing. I knock on the door. Nothing. I knock harder. Nothing. I knock so fucking hard the door almost flies off its hinges.

Nothing. My knuckles are raw and there are going to be bruises in the morning, but apart from that, nothing.

So I walk round to the window and look through at him. He stares at the television. Tentatively, I reach out and rap my knuckles against the glass. Nothing. He continues to stare at the television. I knock a little harder. Nothing.

Is this dude deaf? I ask myself. Yeah, he's probably deaf. What the fuck do I do now? Do I... do I throw the pizza through the window? That's probably not in the employee handbook.

Just then, the door opens and the dude is standing there, grinning from ear to ear.

"Sorry man," he says. "I just love messing with delivery guys."

The smile that appeared on my face was wide and outwardly sincere enough to pass muster, but if you looked closely I'm sure you'd have noticed that it didn't reach my eyes. My eyes, which contained nothing but bottomless hate, endless malice, and the inevitability of gruesome revenge.

"Oh," I say. "Cool."

Maybe he got wind of my murder-vibes , because I got a pretty generous tip off the cunt.

It doesn't matter.

He's still going to pay.

------

Unfortunately, weirdos 2 and 3 were the only good tips I got all night. Pretty much every fucker who paid by cash gave me the EXACT MONEY, right down to the last bloody penny. Hey, yo, I don't care if you want your change, I always want my change when I'm the one paying, money's tight all over, I get it: but seriously, stop being such a stingy cock and making me wait while you count out penny after grimy penny. Be adventurous; break that twenty. The pizza boy's not gonna run off with your change (unless the change is over five pounds, in which case I probably definitely would).