The Pizza Stalker -- A short Story

[luna]

So, to those that don't know, a bunch of my friends and I were at Pizza Hut yesterday and there was a creepy guy staring into the booth from outside the window. Upon my friend Nick's request, here is the story of Frank, the Pizza Stalker.
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His name was Frank

Not really a good name for an evil man such as he. Rapists, murderers and kidnappers alike all feared this man and his beady, soulless eyes. Why? Frank was a pizza stalker.

Frank wasn't always this sick and twisted an. At one point, he was happy. Had friends, a wife, and three kids. But soon, his illness became too much to hide and his entire world was destroyed.

“It all started when I was a child.” He told the therapist, who sat exactly seven feet three inches away from the soulless man. If Frank noticed, he didn't care. He was used to the fear and hatred society displayed towards his kind. “I grew up in a home not suitable for children...”

Intrigued, Harold the therapist leaned forward just a little. “What happened?” He asked the depressed middle aged man, reaching up to stroke his joy, his precious, his fu manchu.

“My.. my father.. He was... a vegan and my mother was a health freak. The house was always clean and we always had healthy food in the house.... I think they turned out so poorly because they were lefties... can't trust those damned lefties.” Both men shuddered.

“Lentils, eggplant, carrots and beets. Spinach, broccoli, pomegranates and cabbages. If we were lucky, we might get a vegan cookie or even.... a vegan cake. But those were treats. Mom didn't like giving us treats.”


Harold stopped stroking his fu manchu and instead twisted the ends like an evil villain from the 1920's. “Us?” he asked, brown eyes curious despite himself.

Frank nodded briefly, closing his black eyes. “I had a sister once. Gertrude. A dog named Rover. Do you know what too much health food does to you? It gives you the opposite of a heart attack. Your heart works too well, the rest of your body grows jealous, and stages a mutiny. They never saw it coming. Me? I manage to avoid this fate by sneaking chocolate. I still remember being caught with that catalogue. I was so embarrassed.”

“I'm sorry for your loss. What happened next?” Harold asked, now exactly seven feet two inches away.

“Well, my parents were furious and so ashamed. My mother kept going on about what a disgrace this was and how she couldn't show her face at the PTA again She couldn't believe her son could be a disgusting chocolate lover. Little did she know, eh?” Frank laughed bitterly, turning to look back at his therapist. Harold, being a chocolate lover himself, had taken the opportunity to take a kitkat out of his bag. Upon being caught, however, he guiltily offered Frank half.

“Nah, I don't touch that anymore. Too tame for me. I was seventeen when I first saw a pizza. The smell was intoxicating, and the way the grease glittered and shone over that pepperoni melted my soul. It was like Romeo and Juliet, if Juliet were a pizza and Romeo wanted to eat her. Or if Juliet were human and Romeo were a cannibal. Or a Zombie. You get my point. I saw my best friend Bartholemew eat his pizza, and I was hooked.”

Harold, despite his interest in the story, could feel his lip curl up in disgust. “Remain objective, Harold, remain objective.” He told himself quietly. To Frank, he said, “continue?”

Frank shrugged. “I tried to hide it, I really did. I would wear disguises, or pretend to be talking on the phone. Once, I even got a job at a pizza place. I knew I was sick, but I had no place to turn to. I just wanted a pizza! All I could do was watch, though. Four years ago, I lost it. I was at pizza hut, and I saw a group of teenagers. They were right by a window, and had four pizzas! It was a pizza porno! A pizza orgy! One I didn't have to pay to see. They caught me, though. Sued me for pizza harassment and traumatization. I didn't know it would end so badly! My wife Heldagard left me, taking our three kids Geraldine, Harriet and George. I was in prison for four years, and nobody wanted to do anything with me. I was a leper in my own town.”

Frank started sobbing uncontrollably, and Harold grew uncomfortable. Until he had a brilliant idea. He called down to the office and, within twenty minutes, there was a knock at his door. He paid his assistant Irving and brought the pizza back into the room, putting the box on Frank's lap.

“Here,”

[/i] said Harold the therapist, “this is for you. I prescribe one large Hawaiian pizza. Take orally until finished, with one large coke, and you will be cured of your illness.”

Frank cheered and dug in, tears mingling with the red pizza sauce. Unfortunately, his heart was not prepared for such a shock, and thus, he died.

Harold was the only one to attend his funeral, and as they lay his body to rest, he solemnly sang the pizza pizza song, placing the pizza box upon his coffin. His tombstone read:

“Here Lies Frank, the Pizza Stalker
May He Have Eternal Pizza and Eternal Happiness
Rest in Pizza”

THE END
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