Writing Pizza; anchovies on the side

[Mitch]

[size=1]Just a little story I started last night; nothing too good in my opinion. But I wanted to write something happy to try and cheer myself up, or something. It's not done yet, like every other thing I've written lately it seems. I just can't seem to finish what I start.[/size]

[size=3][center]...[/size][/center]

[size=1]He let out the smile I'd been living with since I'd forever known him; that smile that lit through his entire face, and just stood there. "You know, she does like you, don't you?"

"And where'd you get your information?" I raised my eyebrows a bit.

"Where'd I get the information?" he let out his small laugh and paused, "Where'd I get it? I don't think you want to know."

I patted him hard on the back. He yelped a bit in surprise.

"What was that for?" he said, a smirk tipping his smile.

"What was it for? Perhaps you can answer?" I pushed.

His smirk grew even larger, and he held his hands out in a playing yet serious manner. "Hey, just lay off, okay? Like I said, I don't think you'd want to know, Drew."

I called his bluff.

"Why wouldn't I want to know? Come on, pizza'll be on me? How about it?"

It was our daily thing, pizza. We lived and breathed it, it seemed. Always pepperoni, anchovies on the side. I guess that's the kind of people we'd always been. Anchovies on the side.

"Pizza on you, eh? Sounds pretty sizzling to me. How about this: I'll tell you, but only over the pizza. Sound good?"

"Shake on it?" I held out my hand.

"Yeah, shake on it."

He grasped my hand, and we slapped them together quickly. He then took my ring finger, and I took his ring finger. And slowly, we did a small twirl in a circle around our fingers, going faster and faster, then slowing down, ending back up in our original places, still holding our ring fingers. From there, we let go, and did a quick and rough up and down shake. He was the first to let go and stop the shake. Our cordial and constant handshake from the age of seven and on completed, we quickly left school, going to my car.

It was an '85 Reliant. Mustard-yellow, with a slight dent on the front and the front turning signal mirror missing. I'd had it since I was fifteen, my parents had given it to me when I'd finally gotten my license. Unlocking the door, I swept in, quickly unlocking the passenger's side door; it didn't have power locks. An inconvenience, but you lived with it.

"Heh, you aren't going to believe where I got my information," he said as he slammed his door and got in.

"Is that so, Kev? We'll see."

I keyed the ignition, stepping slightly on the gas pedal. The car wouldn't start too well if I didn't; perhaps it was its age, but it sure seemed like it just wanted to not cooperate most of the time. It'd always stop in the middle of a turn, right in the middle of an intersection; it was quite annoying. This aside, it started without intervention.

We were off.

There was the old doughnut shop where it'd been since I was born; there was the Dan's Supermarket that'd been there since I was born, too. And right over to the far left of these was Donatello's Pizza. Our Donatello's Pizza. Well, not exactly, but we went there daily. Everyone that worked there knew us well; knew what we'd want to order. I parked near the front. The place was never really busy, except on Saturdays. I guess Saturdays are just made for pizza for some people. Or perhaps it's something else. I'll never know.

"Remember, pizza's on you," Kev said as we exited my Reliant, his smile-turned-smirk glaring at me teasingly. I let out a smile as we approached the front.

"Yeah, I know," I said as my hand touched the familiar metallic-red door, and we stepped in. The place was pretty quiet, like it'd almost always been since the millions of other times we'd been in.

That place is full of so many memories. From the pizza smell, from just everything to it. And every time I'd step in there, I'd just get this totally genuine feeling. It felt something like just being ecstatically happy; like being a kid. I don't know, I can't quite explain it. But it was a genuine and warm feeling.[/size]