Pizza Delivery

 I have started this story ten times and from too many different angles. I've tried the positive route; Russell's five college rejections were just signs of greater things to come. I've been realistic; Russell had always been the smartest person in the room as a child, so when he was forced to try in high school he fell apart. I bent over backward trying to be romantic; in order to impress the woman of his dreams Russell dyed his hair as red as his beating heart, unfortunately for him, his act of passion only earned him the nickname of Kool-Aid Kid. I've come to a very harsh realization, the mundanity of all drafts of this story was not my fault at all. Russell McDowell and all stories that happen to include him will just forever be doomed to be monotonous. So, for Russell's, mine, and the future readers of this story's' sake I'll tell it as creatively as possible.

Russell turned up the volume of his audiobook over the honking of the traffic around him. In the moment, Russell's concern was getting through his admittedly boring audiobook, rather than safely completing his pizza delivery job.

"Shoot!" He hissed stomping on his breaks and whipping the car to the right into the next available street. His tires squealed, the bumper of his car grazed an already bent stop sign, and his future mechanic thanked him. He glanced at his passenger seat now worried about the safety of the two pizzas in his care.

His coworkers so hesitantly gave him the initial assignment, he didn't want to prove their worries correct by destroying the customer's dinner. He leaned over and patted the top of the box, assuring himself that his dysfunctional driving wasn't going to cost him his job.

"Your destination is on the left." The robotic voice of the GPS told him, Russell bit his tongue and resisted making a sassy remark to the GPS. He wanted to save his good material on things that would speak back to him.

He stopped the car more smoothly but still too harshly for an 'experienced' driver like himself. He grabbed his pizza box and climbed out of the car. He began towards the house, taking in the surrounding area.

The house stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the other houses in the neighborhood. It was darkly colored and had a mysterious fog surrounding it that only affected everything within its fence walls. The grass Russell stepped on was yellowed and moist. The decor was nothing short of creepy, broken garden gnomes and mysterious unnamed gravestones littered the landscape. Russell stepped on the front porch. It groaned under his weight despite how light Russell was.

Before he could ring the doorbell, the front door swung open. A withered figure stood in front of him with a cane in one hand, and an obviously off brand Michael Myers mask on. Russell took an involuntary step backward, nearly falling off of the porch. His hand now shook holding the pizza box, the only thing keeping him on the porch was the idea that he could outrun an elderly Michael Myers.

The old man inhaled like he was about to say something dramatic when he paused, "Oh?"

Russell swallowed deeply, "W-What is it?"

"Oh no I just..." The old man caught himself like he didn't want to be rude.

"Did you forget you ordered a pizza?" Russell felt a touch of sympathy for the masked man, he assumed old age must have been getting to him.

"No, I just...I mean the way the porch groaned I really just..."

Russell frowned, he tried covering his narrow torso with the pizza box, his cheeks felt warm. "Am I too small to carry your pizza or something? You afraid I'll drop them?"

"No no, it was just...that was sort of misleading you know? When the porch squeaks...you expect a heavier guy..." The masked man was silent for a moment bearing the weight of the awkward moment.