The Bike, The Beard, and the Pizza Guy
The 1979 Chevy Nova pulled into a parking spot outside of the warehouse. Stanley Turner put the car into park and turned off the ignition with a slightly trembling hand. He viewed his reflection in the rear-view mirror and held his own gaze. The mission was about to come to a permanent conclusion. Six months of delivering pizzas at Gongo's would end this night with one final delivery.
He thought back to his manager's reactions as he had attempted to explain three missing pizzas and front fender damage to the company car. He had been rewarded by being given the strangest delivery order yet. Twenty pizzas were to be delivered to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. He had also been told that tonight would be his final night of service for Gongo's Pizza.
Stanley could have refused the delivery. He had been terminated, after all. What else could they do to him? But no, Stanley Turner was a warrior. He always completed the mission, regardless of the dangers. He stepped out of the car and began doing stretches. He may have to run again, after all. Once he had finished, he leaned into the car and grabbed half of the pizzas. He kicked the door shut and slowly made his way towards the warehouse and the end of his career.
Squeals of delight came from beneath Harvey's bandanna as he and Jerry arrived at Cotter's Cakes. Pinkie struggled to contain herself, but she was reaching critical levels of excitement. Her body was shaking, and short bursts of giggles continuously escaped from her mouth. Harvey and Jerry looked at each other with concerned expressions on their faces.
"We can't go in there with her like this, man," Harvey growled. "I'm telling you, I should just knock her out," he whispered.
"I heard that, baldy. Any time you want a piece of the Pie, just come step to this!" Pinkie threatened. "Oops, it's happening again!"
"You can't knock her out, man! It's not her fault that ponies eat cake," Jerry pleaded.
"Ponies do not eat cake!" Harvey yelled, attracting a few stares from passersby. They quickly looked away as his glare turned in their direction.
"This one does, and so do her friends. Come on, man. There has to be a better way," Jerry said quietly.
Harvey's eyes examined a dying roach on the sidewalk. It had flipped onto its back and occasionally twitched a leg or two. A small group of ants had begun to surround the unfortunate insect.
"Harvey?" Jerry asked.
"I have an idea," Harvey said. He fished a fifty dollar bill out of his wallet and handed it to Jerry. "Go get some vodka."
"What? I thought we were getting cake, man. I'm not sure about vodka and cake... "
Harvey stared at his friend until he grew quiet. Jerry nodded quickly and left for a nearby liquor store.
"What's vodka?" Pinkie asked.
Stanley Turner waited patiently outside the warehouse door. He was prepared to run at any given notice, and had already planned out his escape route if it was needed. He could not help but notice the many motorcycles parked outside the warehouse as he had neared the door, and was ready for anything.
A man opened the door wearing only a pair of briefs with the image of a chilli on the groin. Well, he had been prepared for almost anything.
"Pizza's here, boys!" Tony Loreno yelled over his shoulder and began laughing hysterically. He put an arm around Stanley's shoulders and pulled him close to whisper in his ear. "We got Harvey's girl, and she loves the habanero!" he said to the pizza deliveryman and laughed again. Stanley could smell alcohol on the man's breath.
"Um, yeah that's amazing," Stanley stammered. "Here's half of the pizzas. The others are in the car. Where should I set these?"
"In your ass!" Tony screamed with a look of hatred. Stanley squirmed and nearly dropped the pizzas, but Tony leaned close once again and whispered, "That was a joke, brother. How could you expect us to eat pizza that had been treated in such a way? You are crazy, my friend."
Stanley felt himself being drawn inside the warehouse and realized with horror that his chances of escape had disappeared. He was led through a small crowd of bikers dressed in leather adorned with green logos. In the middle of the crowd was a motorcycle that looked vaguely familiar.
"Ricky, Gabriel! Come take these pizzas from our new friend. I want to show him how dirty Jeanie is," Tony ordered. His men rushed forward and took the pizzas, then returned to the crowd to disperse the slices amongst the hungry bikers.
"Uh, wow. Look how dirty Jeanie is. So, uh, there are ten more pizzas in the car. If I could just go and get them... " Stanley said as he tried to squirm loose of Tony's grip.
"The pizza is not important, my good pizza deliveryman. What is important is this," Tony said. He walked to the front of the bike and began thrusting his crotch at it. "Isn't she filthy? She loves this!"
Stanley stared at the scene with a morbid sense of fascination. Are all bikers this crazy? he thought.
"Come over here, pizza boy! You, too can show my boys how nasty Jeanie is!" Tony called out.
"Oh, me? Gee, what an honor," Stanley said and weakly pushed his hips in the bike's direction. "She's so nasty."
Tony laughed hysterically, followed by the other Vagos gang members. He walked over to Stanley and suddenly pulled out a switch-blade and held it to the young man's throat.
"Now go get me my other pizzas before I release my inner furies upon your pathetic manhood," he threatened.
Stanley Turner screamed in terror and fled from the crazy, half-naked gang leader. He pushed past two drunken gang members and ran out of the warehouse at full-speed, leaping into the open driver's side window of the Chevy Nova and landing awkwardly, half-in and half-out of the car. He crawled the rest of the way inside, repositioned himself into the driver's seat, turned the ignition, shifted into drive, and sped out of the parking lot as fast as he could.
Back in the warehouse, an enraged and drunken Tony Loreno pulled on a pair of pants and sat upon Jeanie. He revved the engine. "Nobody cheats the Vagos out of their pizza!" he screamed.
Drunken cheers arose as the other members rushed outside to their rides. Soon, dozens of bikes roared out of the warehouse parking lot. The hunt for Stanley Turner was on.
"Okay, now pour the sugar in. Lots of it," Harvey Grimwold instructed.
He and Jerry were in a dark alley behind Cotter's Cakes. Jerry was busily preparing a drink in a small shot glass, while Pinkie watched from beneath the bandanna. She had been instructed to hide if anyone were to appear at either end of the alley, but they were alone for the time being. Jerry finished pouring the sweet, white crystals into the drink. He held the glass out to Pinkie.
"Okay, here you go. A nice big glass of sweetness," Jerry said with a grin.
Pinkie examined the liquid thoughtfully. "And why am I drinking this?" she asked again.
"It's just to prepare your stomach for the enormous amounts of cake you're about to eat, man. You don't want a belly-ache, do you?" Harvey lied.
"Okay then!" Pinkie grinned. She grabbed the glass and downed it in a single gulp. "Hey, this stuff is good. More please!" she said, holding out the shot glass and wiggling it.
Jerry's jaw went slack. He looked to Harvey, who raised his eyebrows. That much vodka in that small of a body should have knocked her out for sure, Jerry thought.
"Yeah, no problem. Give her some more, Jerry," Harvey ordered.
Shaking his head slowly, Jerry took the shot glass and prepared another drink. Pinkie was humming impatiently as he finally handed the glass back.
"Here's to the best of friends!" she giggled and downed the drink in another gulp. She held out the glass for more.
"Do it, Jerry," Harvey said.
"I don't know, man," Jerry whispered.
"Do it, Jerry!" Pinkie yelled.
Another glass was poured and consumed. Then another.
"Dude, we've just given a fifth of vodka to a little pony. I think we should stop," Jerry pleaded.
"As much as it takes, Jerry!" Harvey growled. "She just has a fast metabolism."
"Yeah, just listen to Harvey," Pinkie said. "In fact, why don't you just hand the bottle over?" She held out her hooves.
"No way!" Jerry shook his head.
"We need her knocked out, man! Hand the bottle over," Harvey shouted.
"Yeah, knock me out Jerry. Send me to the moon!" Pinkie swayed beneath Harvey's chin.
Still shaking his head, Jerry handed the bottle of vodka over to Pinkie. He marvelled at how she could lift it, then gasped as she tilted her head back and consumed the entire bottle within seconds.
"I'm going to Hell for this," Jerry mumbled.
"Ooh yeah!" Pinkie shouted. She then hefted the empty bottle up and swung it full-force into Harvey's chin. The bottle shattered as it connected, and Harvey Grimwold's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he fell unconscious to the ground.
"Holy crap!" Jerry gasped as his eyes bulged at the scene unfolding before him. Pinkie picked up a broken shard of glass in her mouth and began to giggle uncontrollably.
"Pinkie, what are you doing? Don't!" Jerry moved forward, but it was too late.
The pink pony slashed upwards with the glass shard and it found its mark. She gave another giggle and dropped the glass to the ground. She then hopped forward and jumped off of Harvey's chest and onto ground.
"I'm free!" she beamed. She jumped into the air, and with an audible pop, grew in size to be roughly as tall as Jerry's waist. The former beard bounced over to Jerry, gave his hand a nuzzle, then bounced away toward the end of the alley.
"Hey, you can't go! You'll be seen, and I think you might be drunk!" Jerry shouted after Pinkie. Just then, Harvey groaned.
"Ow, my face," he mumbled, reaching up to his chin. He immediately noticed something was missing. "My beard! Where's my beard!" he yelled frantically.
"Harvey, you need to get up. Your beard is drunk and loose in the city!" Jerry said gravely.
"Whooo whooo whooo!" came a voice from the end of the alley. "Time for cake!" The sound of a window breaking soon followed.
Jerry helped Harvey to his feet. They had to get Pinkie before chaos reigned through the night.