Little Red Delivery Boy by Julia

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
retelling a child's story

Submitted: January 02, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 02, 2012




Trevor was a delivery boy for Joey’s Pizzeria.  He worked every Tuesday, Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday night from 5pm to 9pm.  This particular Wednesday night Trevor showed up to work a little late- fifteen minutes past five.  Luckily when he walked in the boss didn’t say a word to him about it.  Trevor sat down in the vacant dinky restaurant and with the aroma of pizza filling his nose, patiently waited for his first delivery.  This pizza place was very slow.  Trevor, on a good night would make ten deliveries in his four hours of working.  But usually he was lucky to get one per hour.  Although Trevor would get extremely bored and continuously complain to his girlfriend via texts, he looked at it as, “Hey, I’m getting paid for doing nothing, it’s great”.

At 5:56 Joey’s Pizzeria got a phone call for a delivery to 83 Parkwood Ave. for the Steins.  About ten minutes later Trevor grabbed the food, walked to his car, and loaded his back seat with one plain pizza pie.  He started up the car, put on his lights and windshield wipers, as it started to drizzle. He looked at the ticket and read “Parkwood Ave” as he picked up his iphone and typed in the address on google maps to help him find his way.  The car ride wasn’t long as Trevor blasted his music to cover the obnoxious sound of the wipers dragging across the dampened windshield.  When he got to the destination he realized it was an apartment.  He opened his door, threw his hood up, grabbed the pie, and left the keys in the ignition, knowing he usually doesn’t take any longer than two or three minutes. 

Trevor walked up to the glass door and looked at the buttons on the side of the door to get buzzed inside, trying to keep himself and the pizza dry under a small ledge above him.  He looked at the ticket then back at the buttons with scribbles next to them and none of them matched.  He wasn’t sure what to do.  Just as he was about to go back to his car to get his phone and call the number on the ticket, he saw a man come out of a dark corner in the building, who appeared right in the view of the glass door.  The man stood there for a few seconds, as Trevor was a little confused, and then the man walked towards the door, and before opening it, flashed an uneasy smile.  “Thank you!” Trevor exclaimed as he pushed passed the door to get under dry shelter.  He pulled his hood back as some droplets fell on his face, and after glancing at the ticket said, “Do you know which apartment the Steins live in?” The man looked down at the pizza pie and looked back up into Trevor’s eyes,

“Yes,” the man said and then took a long pause, “I ordered the pizza, I am Mr. Stein.”  Trevor thought this a little odd.  The whole scene just seemed off to him.  How did the man know he was there at the door?  Where did the man come from? And why was he dressed so suspicious, all in tight black clothing, with gloves on too.  “Here, my apartment is right here,” the man said pointing down a long hallway.  “The money is right inside, follow me.” 

Trevor was a little hesitant.  Part of him just wanted to leave, but he knew if he showed back up at the pizzeria with the same pie he left with and no money, he would get yelled at.  So, he followed the creepy man down the hall and once they came to the seventh door on the left, the man took out a key and unlocked the door.  The door opened to a dim lit musky doorway.  The man strolled in and nudging with his head pointing to a table piled with papers said, “You can just lay the pizza down there.”

As Trevor turned his back to lay down the plain pie he heard the click of a lock.  He turned around to see the man standing by the now shut door with the same uneasy smile.  Trevor now began to feel anxious and started to breathe heavy short breathes. “Uhhh, Mr. Stein?”

“Sit down” the man, said looking at a worn down dirty chair.  As Trevor sat down he looked around.  The place gave off am uncomfortable vibe.  The area was not lit well at all.  The darkness was being held up by one awkward looking lamp that stood in the center of the room.  The place was in chaos. There were papers everywhere, dust and dirt collecting on the floor and in the cracks of the cushions.  There was a disagreeable odor that lingered in the air that Trevor could not avoid inhaling.  There were boxes and boxes stacked in all the corners, and the windows were taped shut.  He knew he was in trouble.

Trevor just wanted to get the money and leave, but at this point he didn’t even really care about the money anymore.  “Uhhh so Mr. Stein…the bill is $21.50…” he was hoping the man would pull out the money, give him a nice tip and say “Have a nice night” opening the door.  Instead the man just stood there staring at him.  Trevor was scared, he wanted to leave.  As he tried to stand up the man took a huge step forward, put his hand on Trevor’s shoulder and said,

 “Sit” pushing Trevor back into the hard chair.  The man walked over to a dresser that looked like he had pulled out of a dumpster, and slid open a rackety drawer.  From the drawer he pulled out rope and duck tape. The man was much bigger than Trevor; there was no trying to put up a fight.

Trevor started to shake.  “No, no, no” Trevor whispered hopping out of the chair trying to find an exit scheme.  The man looked up, dropped the rope and tape, and slowly walked over to Trevor.  He grabbed him tight by the arm, yanked him backwards and calmly said,

“I said sit”.  The man picked up the rope and began to unravel it, staring straight into Trevor’s eyes.

“Please Mr. Stein, don’t do this.  You don’t want to do this Mr. Stein. Please…” Trevor pleaded.  With his eye still locked onto Trevor’s, he said as casual as ordering an ice cream,

“I am not Mr. Stein” and his smile grew into a sinister grin.  Trevor began to panic, breathing faster and heavier as the rope began to double up around his arms.  Tears began to build up in his eyes, and a knot tightened in his throat. 

“Help!” he tried to scream but was cut off with silver thick tape smacked tightly against his lips that then traveled around to the back of his head and back to his lips again.

Meanwhile in Trevor’s car the music paused, as a call came in and his phone began to ring.  His phone already said “Two missed calls”.  After the ringing had stopped, the “Two missed calls” changed to “Three”, and it then read, “One new voicemail” that played:

“Trevor, its Joey, where the hell are you?  Answer my calls.  The woman Ms. Stein called complainin’ you still haven’t showed up with her pizza yet.  If you are messin’ around pickin’ up your girlfriend again or some shit, I swear to God Trevor…just get back to me.”

“I shouldn’t have left my phone in the car” Trevor thought.  “I shouldn’t have trusted this creepy man.  I shouldn’t have entered his apartment.  I shouldn’t have come to work today.  I shouldn’t even have applied for this stupid job!”  The tears came spilling of his eyes rolling down his duck taped covered cheeks.  “Someone has to find me, someone has to find me” Trevor kept reassuring himself. 

The man sat on the couch facing across Trevor and just stared at him for about twenty minutes.  In Trevor’s head all he could think is, “What is the man going to do to me?”  The man after what seemed hours, got up and walked to the bathroom and left the door open for Trevor to see a sliver of what the man was doing.  He peeled off his gloves, turned the sink on, let it run for thirty seconds and the picked up a bar of soap.  He rubbed the soap all over his hands very thoroughly for about forty five seconds and then stuck his hands under the running faucet.  He scrubbed his hands in the same repetitive process over and over until he seemed satisfied. 

He then dried his hands very daintily and turned around to walk over to the same dresser that contained the rope and tape.  He pulled out a white shirt; white pants white socks, and white gloves.  The man then proceeded to get unchanged and then changed right in front of Trevor.  The white clothes fit tight, just like the black ones, and he looked just as he did before except painted from head to toe in white instead of black. 

The man then walked back and reentered the bathroom where Trevor watched him turn the faucet on again and run for another thirty seconds.  He then grabbed the soap and same as last time thoroughly rubbed the soap all over his hands again but this time also rubbed the soap all over his forearms.  After the same forty five seconds, he scrubbed his hands and arms in the same repetitive process until fully satisfied. 

When the man exited the bathroom he sat back down across Trevor placed on his white gloves, and sighed.  He leaned down and pulled out from under his couch a pristine medal box.  He laid the box on his lap, and flipped open the lid to reveal a big long shiny silver knife blanketed by white silk.  Trevor’s eyes grew wide and terrified as soon as he saw the sight of the knife.  He knew in his head he was going to die.  All he could think about was how much he loved his mother and his girlfriend.  How he should have opened up to having a relationship with his father.  Images flashed in his head of the future family he was going to share with his girlfriend and soon wife to be.  He couldn’t get the thought of his mother’s warm touch on his arm as she put him to bed every night as a child.  Tears again begin to poor out as his muffled screams made no difference in help. 

The man folded back the white silk from the knife, and slid his fingers slowly across the blade.  As he picked up the knife and grip it tight with each finger gripped tightly, a loud “BANG, BANG, BANG!” intruded the silence against the opposite side of the door.  Trevor looked at the door and looked back at the man who jumped in his seat alarmed.  Trevor saw the worry in the man’s eyes.  He grabbed the box in a panic, threw the knife in it and slid it as fast as he could back under the couch.  “BANG, BANG, BANG!” the loud knock came again startling the man once again.  He grabbed a sheet through it over Trevor and hurried towards the door. 

The man opened the door a crack and said, “Who is it?” as Trevor screamed his muffled yells.  The door was then shoved open, and the sheet was ripped off Trevor to his relief to see a bunch of cops flood through the door.  The creepy man was on the floor with his gloved hands in hand cuffs.  Trevor was unbound and freed to breathe and speak.

Trevor was saved.  Joey had ended up getting worried after a bunch of unanswered phone calls and voicemails, and Trevor’s forty five minute absence from the store.  He called to police and told them the address of Trevor’s last delivery.  As Trevor’s comforted exit out of the chilling apartment he looked over and saw the plain pie still sitting on the pile of papers, and couldn’t help but think “The pizza is probably all cold now, what a waste of pizza”.

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