A Cheesy Love Story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a short story about a man on a mission. A mission so universal that all readers of all ages of all people can read it and say, "I understand this man", while managing to rhyme at the same time. Be prepared to laugh, cry, and sing "Kumbaya". With all that being said, just read it.

Submitted: September 25, 2014

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 25, 2014



Bullets sliced through the air, chipping away at the wall only inches from my head. Two explosions, one right after the other, shook the building I was holing up in. Frags, I thought to myself. I held my gun tightly to my chest and felt my military grade knife strapped securely to my thigh, ready to be used in close combat. I assumed two hostiles, maybe three.

The gunfire ceased and I knew this was my chance. Supposing they were reloading, I jumped out the window immediately to my left. Once on the ground I flanked my assailants. Two of them came into view as I turned the corner. One was standing behind a crate with his upper half exposed, gun raised at my old position. The other had his back against the alley’s wall that I was looking down, reloading his weapon. My movement must have caught his eye, but it was too late.

I pulled the trigger on my rifle, letting out a burst of three shots. Each hit him, starting at his chest, walking up to his ugly face. I repositioned my rifle to the other foe, who’s fate would be the same. He looked surprised, though that may simply be the look of someone about to soil themselves. Neither option mattered much to me, as I pulled the trigger twice to be sure I put him down, as well.

I smiled and performed a celebration in the form of a mental fist pump . This was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. I turned around to see three more men running toward my position. I cursed under my breath and ran to my newly fallen enemies. I assumed these newcomers would want to check up on their buddies, and I would be there waiting with a deadly surprise. I rounded the corner to get out of sight.

All of a sudden, I shuddered and gasped at the sharp pain piercing my back. I turned around to see the third man I had earlier wondered if he was here, but apparently didn’t see. I attempted to raise my gun, but there was no use. He put two more in my chest as I fell to the ground.

Hope for a medic to stumble upon me in time would have been useless. I had no more strength in me to do anything except try to breathe. My executioner walked slowly up to me, raised his pistol, and ended my life.

I set down my controller and sighed. I was really hoping to get my kill streak in Call of Duty that round. I was so close! Two down, maybe a couple assists and I’d be calling in UAV’s like it was nobody’s business. Oh well.

In that moment, something else caught my attention. I couldn’t focus on the screen in front of me anymore. Two of my senses forced me to focus on this cataclysmic event that wouldn’t budge. I heard the low rumble that muttered its intent. I felt the distant rolling of thunder that could not be ignored. I didn’t need to taste, see, or smell what was happening. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to study my current situation and tell me what was wrong. The most primitive of all problems that every human has had to face throughout the history of all humans, like, ever. And here it was, daring me to do something about it.

My tummy growled another time, resembling that of an irritated Chihuahua. Fierce. Annoying. And ugly. But much like the great Sherlock Holmes before me, I would not have trouble finding the solution to my desperate case before me. For the answer waited for me a mere two crosswalks and one door pull away. A door with the ever familiar jingle of bells as I opened the vault to my heaven on earth.

In colder times, this door led to the heat that would tingle my skin and brush its warmth across my entire body. When the sun decided to make an appearance and beat down on my fair skin, this entrance breathed air conditioning down my nostrils and throat the moment I broke the seal. In rain, hail, sleet, or snow, this was my shelter from the elements of a world that changes over days, weeks, and years. The white drapes hanging on its people, those of which crafted and heated each masterpiece with grace. The Rising would take time, but was worth the wait.

But that smell. So potent that it offered a sacrificial sample on my palate. A flood covered my tastebuds, for mouth watering is a thing for ordinary gardens. This was Eden. I would pass other worshippers that resembled my dazed state, busy in practicing their own rites. In a place like this, vegetarians would be seen as liberals. Vegans as heretics.

I remember when I first moved to this area for school. I had never lived in a big city before, but knew the one requirement for my den of sleep and video games to be inhabitable. I met with my apartment locator and told him bluntly what I wanted.

“I must be near my love.”

Oh how naive of a soul, am I, to not realize the truth to my words. The nature of my prophecy.

I hopped in the cleansing shower and freshened up. Before I threw on my jacket to begin my journey yonder, I counted my offering. I scrounged up the exact amount needed, $7.42, a skill known to only homeless people and college students. I was fortunate enough to include myself with the latter.

The following events were such a blur. That 347 second walk went by like a 312 second walk. I could only dream of mentioning the countdown and blinking of that authoritative Red Hand. It offered you protection and advice from the infamous jaywalking ticket. But it was no match.

Those numbers lowered to single digits as my steps quickened, likening to strides of a gazelle being hunted. Nay; a cheetah doing the hunting. How you like me now?

I reached my destination with anticipation, knowing what awaited me. Access was granted in the usual fashion. By pulling on the chilled metal handle, I entered my sanctuary.

I reached in my deepening pocket as I approached the altar. The space that separated me lessened with each passing moment. However, this locomotive began slowing as I was brought to a sobering reality. There was a message scrawled above me. After who knows how long, I finally stopped in my tracks.


We appreciate your understanding as we’ve had to adjust our prices with the growing demands on our business. Thank you for choosing us and, as always, enjoy our #1 voted pizza!


I couldn’t believe this apocrypha that attempted to pass itself off as scripture. From my stupor I noticed the price gouging that had occurred. My measly $7.42 could not even afford a Goldilocks “just right” Baby Bear-sized pizza. Besides, who was I kidding. I’m a Papa Bear.

Suddenly, my Sherlock Holmes instincts kicked in yet again. Although a pizza to myself is tempting, and extremely appropriate, I had an option never once considered. I could grace some unknowing soul with my presence by splitting one with them.

It was genius. It was almost too good to be true. But due to my limited funds, it was actually quite necessary.

I quickly began scoping out potentials. Guys were out of the question, mainly because they eat too much and I wasn’t comfortable with sharing in the first place. And I had this slight suspicion that asking random men to share a pizza with me would either provide me a punch or a kiss. Neither appealed, for some reason.

There. A girl with black hair had her arms crossed, looking up at the menu. She was cute, wearing typical preppy clothes for a college girl. Although my habits indicate otherwise, I’m thankfully good-looking. This is not by mine, nor my mother’s, own admission. I’ve been told it many times throughout childhood and get the random Facebook comment on my intentionally chosen profile picture that tells me how great I’m looking.

But wait. What was this? My chest began beating a little more than it was earlier. A light coat of sweat began forming on my arms, glistening in the fluorescent lights hanging above. Although I’d hate to admit it, I may have been just barely nervous. Hardly. Besides, talking to strangers is a strange thing to begin with.

I took a deep breath and walked up to the girl with black hair.

“Hey,” I smiled, with a curt wave.

To my surprise, she smiled back! This was almost too easy. Call of Duty? Please. This was child’s play. War was hard. There is gunfire. Your friends get shot and die. You might piss yourself. Scary. But this? I knew I had it in me. All I needed to do was finally muster up th—

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“Oh, um.” Had I really been rambling in my mind that entire time? I looked at her expression and realized the answer to that one. Nice going, creep. “So,” I started again, “kind of random, but would you want to, like, split a pizza?”

Her smirk and eyes darting to the side didn’t seem hopeful.

“I’m picking up a takeout order,” she probably lied. “Sorry.”

Well. If that didn’t feel like a twisted knife in my ribs then I’ll have to try it sometime and compare. Moving on. She was a warmup anyway. The next one I’ll have to be more confident with. Quick.

A girl with dark hair and fair skin stood a few feet next to me, though far enough not to hear my warmup sesh. I took a deep breath and stepped over to her.

“Hey,” again with a smile and a curt wave. She smiled back, but I wouldn’t make that rookie mistake again and talk to myself for a few silent seconds. “Would you want to split a pizza with me?”

Her eyes lit up. They actually lit up. Okay they didn’t literally, but she was beaming. Also not litera— whatever, you get it.

“That would be really nice. But…” she hesitated. Why do they always hesitate? Really, at this point, I just needed someone to split the cost of this nectar of the gods with. I didn’t think I could handle anymore waiting. I was already shutdown once. Whatever this was leading to, I’ll make it work. Anything, and I mean anything, to fill this pit in my stomach. “…I’m a vegetarian. Is that fine?”

“Have a nice day.” And I continued on my quest for this unicorn.

Getting a pizza with different toppings on each half is just not a way to start a relationship. I needed someone who I could be equally yoked with.

When I thought all hope was lost, that’s when I saw her. The doors jingled, but it might as well been a ring. I glanced back and quickly looked away when we made eye contact.

Stunning. Dirty blonde hair, probably a few inches over five feet, healthily tanned skin. She was roughly out of my league. I’m standing at home plate. My stance is set. The pitcher is leaning over staring past me as he shakes his head twice, then nods. He puts his hand in his glove, winds up, and heaves the blur of white in my direction.

She takes a few steps in and looks away from me. I open my mouth to say something, but caught myself.

Swing and a miss.

The pitcher shakes his head once before nodding. He brings his hands over his head and does his little pitcher dance. He releases the ball at the same point. Another fastball. I got this.

She is standing next to me now, looking up at the same sad news of recent price gouging this place has experienced. She furrows her eyebrows in disapproval. She probably had the $7.42 ready too. Poor girl. I raise my hand and point at the sign too. Best way to start a conversation is find something in common, right? Perfect. I aim my finger up and scoff. Except something tickled my throat and I coughed instead.

Strike two.

The pitcher holds up his glove to retrieve the ball from the catcher. He smiles at me as he does so. I dig my feet deeper into the soil. I readjust my grip on the bat and spit suspiciously close to the catcher’s feet. I take two deep breaths. The pitcher nods once and does his ballerina move yet again. Change-up. I sit on it, watch the ball tumble toward me, twist my torso, and pull that timber around my body with all my might.

“These prices, right?” I finally spoke.

“I know!” she exclaimed. “I come here all the time and can’t believe it.”


“Wait, do you really?” I asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before.” I would have definitely noticed you.

“Well, this is, like, the best pizza place.” She smiled, tiny dimples forming on her cheeks. I hadn’t noticed her freckles under her tan when she first walked in, but they were mesmerizing. For some odd reason, I wanted to connect them and see what became of it.

“It really is.” Well, this is going better than the first two letdowns.

She twisted her mouth to the side, trying to decide something.

“Hmmm,” she let out. “This is more than I planned on spending.” She opened her purse to look in like she was hoping more money would appear.

“Hey, I got a suggestion,” I said. “How about we split a pizza?”

This was the moment. The arena grew silent. This was it. The final moments of the game were winding down now. It all came down to this.

“Well,” she slowly said, dragging out the “l”. It probably only took like an extra second but it felt like minutes had passed. I waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, she gave me the verdict:

“Yeah, lets do it.”

And the crowd goes wild.

We talked about what each other liked and didn’t like on a pizza and settled on a large pepperoni. Simple. I like that.

I grabbed the plastic tent that held our magical number to enjoy our cheesy goodness. We went to a booth and sat down across from each other. I set the tent down and folded my hands. I was dreading that awkward silence that seemed destined to happen.

Boy was I wrong.

You couldn’t shut either of us up. Those eighteen minutes until they called our number didn’t seem to exist. I offered to get the pizza and waved her back down as she tried to get up. I came back with two plates in one hand and our connection in the other.

I sat down and handed her a plate. She smiled and took it from me.

“The first one is all yours,” I said. “Choose wisely.” I smirked and gently slid the pizza more in her direction.

“You know, I was skeptical at first,” she admitted, “but this is really fun. Spontaneous. Good move.” There were those dimples again.

I gazed at her as she took hold of that first piece, the one I wouldn’t forget. Randomly placed pepperoni glittered on the mixed assortment of cheese that blessed this floury surface. She raised it carefully off the tray onto her paper plate. Strings of cheese remained attached to the pie still separating us. The tension was almost unbearable to watch. And just like that, she twisted the slice in her direction. Those connections that once held on, broke free.

“Wow, this is amazing,” she said, enjoying her first bite.

“Yes, it is,” I replied. And I meant every sound my mouth was able to utter, pizza being the furthest thing on my mind.


© Copyright 2020 Kberg. All rights reserved.

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