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Smile, You’re on the Dommie-Cam! Sometimes, when I think that I’m being scammed on a delivery, I’ll stop by the nearest rabbit cemetery in the local area, dig up a freshly slaughtered cotton tail, pull out whatever doo doo is left in the funny creature’s digestive system, and then I insert it gently into one of the pizza pies. Now, the trick is finding a rabbit that has been recently laid to rest, because you can’t find creamy pellets of crammed doopy if all you’re digging up is bones. Later, after I rebury the rabbit, I’ll deliver the order, the pies steaming with delicious heat, and then I run around in the darkness to the dining room window, where I’ll catch the surprise treat on my mini-camera that I was able to scam from the home company. It’s not a bad camera. Of course it doesn’t have a flash or anything fancy like that, but I’m a boy bred to the pie, not to the pic.
It does its job well enough however, capturing for me that exact moment when, you, the unsuspecting prankster, bite down into a slice of beef jerky, extra-thick crust, thin-bottommed ‘za, filled to the brim with rabbit droppings, hormogenized perfectly at this point with the cheese. It really does make me cry sometimes to watch such a scene, knowing that there are people out there who can’t tell the difference between a clean and cooked sausage bit, frumpled and contorted with meaty delight, and a neatly rounded ball bearing-like compressed circle of rabbit-digested grassy stuff. I sometimes lose a few drops of pee pee, too. It’s that bad. Now, don’t think that the only pictures I develop in my ultra-light Dommie dark room are pics of scam artists getting scammed. That wouldn’t make for a very entertaining photo album at all. I also take pictures of some of my more happier moments on the delivery beat. When I find a customer who truly appreciates the pie that I pull from my red oven bag and the rough trip that I’ve made across town just for them, I’ll stick around and take pictures of them eating their merchandise. The problem with that is some folks just aren’t very photogenic. In other words, they try to beat me up when I force my way into their eating rooms and I refuse to leave until they have devoured a two-thirds portion of their pie. At that point, when they demand that I leave, I’ll usually kick something over in an attempt to break it and then I bolt out of the house. They get fooled every time.
Now do you really think that because your husband swung a baseball bat at my company logo-sprinkled ball cap that I’m going to miss the opportunity for a perfect picture of a perfectly satisfied pie buyer? No ma’am! Me running out of the house and driving down the block was only to throw you off so that I could secretly return and sneak up to your window to get a picture. Naturally, the two of you had to ruin it by being completely naked when I got back there and cramming my scrumptious pizza pie into every nook and cranny of your two bloated bodies. I’m sorry, sir, but something made for squirting liquid should never have something as tough as pizza box cardboard in it. And ma’am, that milk belongs to some child, not to the insides of a cheese-filled crust with all of the cheese hollowed out of it! Looks like you two were just demoted down to rabbit pellet status for your next Dommie Delivery. Better keep your eyes open when you make your next order…And that goes for everyone else, too.
This article was written
by
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