The Pizza

Short Story Day 132 of 365

Deep dish pizza was always a favorite choice for out-of-town visitors to Chicago. Part of it had to do with the attitude of the Italian owners who thought nothing of yelling at each other in the kitchen. You paid extra for that kind of ambience, and plus they let off steam so they can serve your pizza up right.

Mrs. Wenrick hadn’t seen her son in two years when she just flew in that afternoon. What better place to celebrate than Giordano’s, one of the choicest deep dish pizza chains in the Midwest.  

Drinks were filled and salads came out during the 40-minute wait for the pizza. All part of the atmosphere.

When the two large supreme deep dish pizzas arrived at the table, the steam was still rising. Tiffany the waitress served the first slice for each at the table, and then left.

Mrs. Wenrick froze at what she saw on the pizza.

“What, Mom?” Aaron asked. “What’s wrong?”

She cleared her throat and said, “Take a look at the pizza in front of me. Do you see what I see, about at the two o’clock position?”

Three more at the table acknowledged what she had seen as well.

“Yeah, I think I do. Let me, um, let me get Tiffany back here,” Aaron said.

Aaron got Tiffany’s attention.

“Uh, Tiffany, is that a, um, is that a dead spider on the right side of that pizza?”

Tiffany squinted and tilted her head.

“No,” she said with a chuckle. “That’s just the top of a tomato that got mixed into the sauce. Here, I can get some tongs and get it out if you’d like.”

“Oh yeah, I see it now. No, no need.”

“It happens occasionally,” Tiffany said. “Sorry about that. Harmless.”

“Thanks, Tiffany, you’ve solved that problem for us.”