I looked up from my plate for the first time in several minutes. Rex had devoured all but one piece of the pesto and pepperoni-our two favorite flavors crashing together in some sense of roommate harmony and compromise. It was good. The man spoke the truth. I studied the hazy light surrounding his less than perfectly coiffed hair. Normally I treat pepperoni like the second coming of the black plague, but tonight, after all that Mexicali gold, it was four greasy slices of pure heaven. There was only one slice left; that was the crux of the situation. I had to tread lightly.
"Really?" I asked, finally acknowledging Rex wobbling on his chair across from me. "I didn't think this was their best creation."
"What?" Rex was staring at a stain on the curtains, chair leaned against the wall. Abruptly he swooped back to the table, eyeballs on the piece of pizza that would be mine. I had to act fast.
"And-wow-now I'm feeling kinda like-God-kinda sick or something. Little gurgly." I pointed to my stomach and managed a half-convincing frown. If only I could sweat on cue. "It's like a burning thing in my stomach, you know?" My seed was planted. If there was one thing I knew about Rex, he was a clean freak. A paranoid clean freak. Especially when it came to any kind of food delivered in a box to the door. And especially when he'd been smoking dope.
"What?" He repeated. "Dev-you feeling sick? You mean like nauseas sick or somethin'?" I was warm inside, ready to taste success, but instead I faked a cough.
"Yeah, kinda I guess. Oh shit-total stomach cramp. God-" I doubled over on my chair and snuck a peek in his direction. He just sat there, like a squirrel that doesn't know which side of the road it wants to be on.
"You feelin' ok?" I shot him a concerned friend look. "I mean, you ate way more than me," then I doubled over again. "God. That hurts-the burning. What the hell they put in there?"
"Dev, stop it! All of it's sittin' right here now." Rex hand was on his chest. He winced. "Stop talkin' about it."
He was taking the bait. "You feel fine, huh? Weird. It's all the same pie-maybe you have a stronger stomach. I thought I tasted something strange-like fish or something, but then I thought-I dunno, I was imagining it-who knows. Oh God-I need like a paper bag or something." Rex stared at me, wide eyed.
"Shit-I tasted somethin' weird too. Totally like fish or dirt-Christ Dev!" Rex held his stomach. His eyes turned into pieces of coal. "You wanted to order from them-"
"Sorry Rex," I said, still holding my stomach. I unbuttoned the top of my jeans. "They're the only place that delivers late-God, I am so regretting-maybe I should just puke-I'll feel better. Get all the gnarly stuff up, you know?" Rex was getting paler by the second. I knew from experience, if Rex heard or saw someone get sick, that it was only a matter of time till he followed suit. Now for the nail in the coffin.
"Did you see that delivery guy's hands? His nails? I could hardly look. It was like he just finished cleanin' his clogged toilet or something." That was it. Rex jumped from the table and ran to the safety of the bathroom. I heard him rummaging through the cabinets, looking for Pepto. He flushed twice.
I stretched my arm out to the offending box and grabbed hold of the pizza, oozing with cheese and oily pesto yumminess. And it didn't taste of fish or dirt.
It tasted of victory.
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