[ WP ] A man orders a `` cheese pizza with no crust '' from a local pizza delivery joint as a joke . Unbeknownst to him , that pizza joint is a drug front and he just placed an order for a kilo of cocaine .

`` *No* crust?'' the man grunted back. `` You sure?'' 
 
 `` Yeah!'' I was slightly drunk, and I found it amusing. At worst, I'd end up eating hot tomato sauce and cheese slop with a fork while watching cartoons. `` And make it snappy! I'm hungry.'' I'd specifically picked the'30 minutes or less' place, though I'm really not too good at telling time when I'm inebriated. 
 
 `` You *sure* that's what you want?'' 
 
 I hiccuped and confirmed that yes, this is what I wanted. I was giggling, but the pizza place did n't find it as funny as I did. 
 
 `` All right. Keep an eye out. We'll be dropping it off soon.'' 
 
 I headed back into the living room, which had a perfect view of the street nearby so I could see him coming. I put on Rick and Morty and settled in with another beer. It was anyone's guess as to whether I'd manage to stay awake in the half hour that it would take for them to bring my pie. 
 
 -- -- -- -- 
 
 I jerked awake at the knock on the door, spilling my beer. *Damn! * There was another knock in rapid succession, and I could see a black SUV waiting in my driveway with the lights on and the engine running. Right. Pizza guy. It all came back to me. I downed what was left of the beer, resolving the clean up the puddle later, and headed to the door. 
 
 The pizza guy was n't the normal acne-ridden scrawny high schooler. Instead, it was a grown man, maybe 25 or so. He wore all black except for a golden belt buckle and a thick gold chain around his neck that looked like it could have been used to safely secure a golden junkyard gate. All it needed was a padlock. And this guy certainly was n't scrawny: he was built like a linebacker, probably over 250 lbs. He should be guarding a line outside a nightclub, not running pizzas over here at 2 AM. 
 
 `` I got your... pizza... right here,'' he said, holding up the thin box. There was a giant bulge in the middle of it, stretching the cardboard. And it certainly did n't *smell* like pizza at all. I took the box in my hand to open it up... and there was no pizza in it. Just a ziploc bag full of powdered sugar. 
 
 `` This is n't what I ordered, man.'' My words slurred a bit, and I had to lean against the doorway for support. `` Remember? I wanted a pizza with no crust.'' 
 
 He glared at me, glanced around, and pushed the box lid closed again. `` Are you fucking crazy?'' he growled. `` Do n't open this out here!'' He shoved me through the doorway and followed me inside. `` This *is* what you ordered. A *pizza* with *no crust*.'' He made air quotes and nodded down at the box when he said it. 
 
 I hiccuped again and looked back down at the box in my hands. `` Whatever, dude.'' I was hungry enough to eat a bag of powdered sugar anyway. It did n't sound half bad: maybe I could make some pancakes, though that would risk burning my house down. Which is why I'd decided to order a pizza in the first place. 
 
 `` So where's the cash?'' he asked, filling up the doorway into my kitchen. 
 
 `` Oh, right.'' I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet. I had to blink a few times to separate the ones and the fives from the twenty; everything was starting to blur together. *Should n't have had that last beer. * `` Here you go!'' I held out the $ 20 toward him; that should about cover it. 
 
 He looked down at the bill, and let out a bark of laughter. Even his *laugh* was mean. I'd have to request the high school kid next time I ordered something from this place. I did n't like this delivery guy. `` You've got to be kidding me,'' he said. From his waistband, he pulled out a pistol and casually waved it in my face. 
 
 We both stared at each other for a moment; I had a bit of a hard time staying balanced. `` Ugh, fine,'' I told him. I slapped another 2 dollars into his hand, even though the 20 should have been more than enough. `` Here's a little extra for you. But next time, make sure it's a *real pizza* instead of sugar, man.'' 
 
 He scoffed. `` Nice try, pal. That's gon na be $ 9,000. *This*,'' he waved the 20 in my face, `` is n't quite gon na cut it.'' 
 
 I gave him a dumbfounded look then glanced down at my wallet. I did n't have that much money in there. Nor in my bank account. Nor would I have that much in *years* of saving. 
 
 `` Well,'' I responded, pulling out my phone and showing him the time, `` Good thing that you all have that 30-minutes-or-its-free guarantee, right?'' 
 
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