THE ART OF BURNING

IV: WE FOUND THE GLORY HOLE!

[ ━━ ❝ ✧˚⋆｡☾✩˚⋆｡࿐❞ ━━ ]
CAIN
(tw: brief mentions of child abuse)

TWO MINUTES AND THIRTY SECONDS before closing time, in walks a stressed-out middle-aged woman with a face highlighted to the gods. She squints at the menu above my head and asks me what a Margherita pizza is.

I tell  her. "It's a classic Italian pizza. Neapolitan style: tomatoes, mozzarella, basil, olive oil, the works."

"Oh," she says, sounding bored and disappointed that it's not alcoholic. (Same, girl. Same.) "Can I have three extra-large pizzas with everything on them? And an order of pasta."

Look, if you thought pineapple on pizza was as bad as it gets, never work for Little Caesars. A lot of times, we get normal, sensible pizza. Pepperoni, extra cheese, meatballs, onions, you know the works. (Especially the meatballs. Meatballs go with pizza like, well, meatballs go with pizza.) Other times . . . it's a nightmare. Canned tuna, fried eggs, bananas, pickles, Tide pods, peas, chocolate, mayonnaise. Once, someone tried to sue us because we didn't have any ranch for him to dip his pizza in.

So, really, it's understandable that I try to warn her. "Ma'am, that really isn't a good idea." And it's understandable that I ask her to clarify what kind of pasta she wants, because come fucking on. We're Italians. We have more types of pasta than I have personalities.

"Why not?"

"Ma'am, we have mayonnaise—"

She's having none of it. "I have three boys at home," she insists. "And they all have friends over."

Whatever. The customer's always right. She wants to get a taste of this pizza place hell? I'll let her have it.  It's her own funeral. "So what kind of pasta was it, then?"

She looks like she's this close to losing her patience with me. "The kind with noodles."

I close my eyes, reminding myself that we'll be closed tomorrow and the day after that for Shavuot, and I won't have to deal with this. I'll just have to stuff my face with enough cheesecake and blintzes to put myself in cardiac arrest and drink enough Red Bull to get me through Tikkun Leil Shavuot tonight.

"All pasta has noodles. If someone ever tries to get you to eat noodleless pasta, call 911 immediately."

"Then make it spaghetti. And it's going to be to go."