[ WP ] You are a travelled drug-dealer in the state of New York and open a pizza place as a cover for a drug operation . In doing so , you find your true passion , making pizza .

I was in the kitchen when I first heard the commotion break out, just disembodied voices tangled in frustration and anger. A glass broke, then a plate, then children started crying, full of distress and grief. 
 
 I set down the dough I was kneading, wiped my hands hastily on my apron, then gingerly retrieved my fire stick from its hiding place and tucked it just under my belt. The cold steel against my flesh brought back memories I had fought so hard to leave behind, and my hands started trembling. 
 
 Outside, the first thing that caught my eye was the bright crimson, splashed all across the white tiles of my humble pizza parlor… 
 
 “ Sorry boss, I ’ ll get it all cleaned up. Don ’ t you worry about a thing, just two kids fighting during dinner, that ’ s all. ” Jessica already had the broom and dishwipes in her hand, bless her heart. 
 
 It seemed that the fracas was almost over. The two adults at the booth in question were still admonishing their children when the father met my eyes, and something about my ashen, stricken face must have gotten through to him. He apologized profusely, slammed money down on the table, then hauled his family out before I could react. 
 
 The relief came in waves, so purifying that I almost crumpled on the floor. This was just children misbehaving, not a drug raid. There were no men in body armour, no vicious sniffing dogs, no threats of death looming just seconds away. 
 
 On my knees next to Jessica, picking up the slivers of broken china, I noticed that this family had hardly touched the 12-inch they had ordered. Briefly, a pang of regret at the wastage pricked my heart – this was not just pizza, this was an hour of my life. I recalled how the first few months learning was tough, and at times it seemed as if my pizza venture would never take off. Either the crust would be too thick, or the dough too salty, or the toppings too cloying… 
 
 But I persevered, because I yearned for the day that customers would give me the same look of anticipation they had back when I was selling them packets of Genie ’ s Spit, or Booming Bass, or Catfish Delight, or any one of the hundred other concoctions on the menu. Insatiable eyes, eager hands, hushed ‘ thank-yous ’ as money and product exchanged hands. 
 
 I missed the satisfaction which came with that. 
 
 I can ’ t recall when things changed, but perhaps it was that weekend a few months ago when I finally cranked out my first serviceable pie. It tasted right to me, and the passersby I handed out free samples to seemed to agree. Everyone finished their slices, and no one threw theirs away. The warm sensations I felt, knowing that my two hands brought a moment ’ s respite to others, sated their appetites… 
 
 That accomplishment I felt then dwarfed all the other highs of my drug-dealing career, beating out even that time I managed to slink right past customs with twenty blocks hidden in my car boot. It wasn ’ t an adrenaline rush, more a spreading, blossoming sense of having done something right. 
 
 And that, I found, was all that mattered for me. 
 
 The chimes on the front door rang, and I looked up to find that the father had returned, alone this time. He wrung his hands for a while, then approached me, trepidatiously. 
 
 “ Hey, you the boss here? Sorry about all that, I hope I tipped enough for the mess. ” 
 
 “ Don ’ t worry about it, ” I said, smiling wanly. “ Anything else I can do you for? ” 
 
 “ Actually… yes. Could I get another order, to go this time? Two Hawaiian, with extra toppings? ” 
 
 “ Er, mister, you sure? Jessica told me that your kids had refused to eat, fighting between themselves when you pressed them to finish their dinner. If pizza ’ s not their thing, maybe you might wan na get something else for th- ” 
 
 He laughed then, a hearty chuckle which resonated through my bones. 
 
 “ Oh no, no, you ’ ve got it wrong. They were fighting over who would get more slices! It ’ s their second time here, and they ’ ve been asking for nothing else all week. We wanted to teach them a lesson by letting them go hungry… but my wife, she ’ s the smart one, she said that why not just get two this time, make sure there ’ s more than enough to go around? ” 
 
 He held out his palms, smoothened twenties between his fingers, a smile on his face. There was a look in his eyes which said that I would be seeing him again, soon. 
 
 I had never rushed so quickly to fill an order before. 
 
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 /r/rarelyfunny
