I sometimes find myself loathing humanity, this is one of those times. Some context may be in order....
I've been lazy with my prompt gathering, so much so I failed to get one from my Civics and Law teacher, my VHS Creative Writing teacher, and my Pre-Calculus teacher. It's a real shame that today, of all days, I managed to conquer both my procrastination and my dislike of public speaking (I slur words when spoken verbally, so I'm afraid I'll have to repeat myself) and go up in front of my entire school to ask the question I have asked too many times to count (since not all the prompts I get are posted here, for one reason or another).
To give some background, and kill time before the prompt part starts, I'll retell the circumstances leading up to this (potentially) terrible prompt. So, my school has a meeting where the entire student body gathers in the gymnasium and the news for the week is distributed. During this time, we've got an 'Open Mic' session, where anyone can go up and talk. I think you see where this is going, but wait, there's more! Mr. Fullman (pseudonym, I should really start asking for permission to use actual names!), the junior and senior English teacher, reads a poem during each of the meetings near the end. This one was Nine Eleven by a woman whose name I can't remember (I should probably just Google it.), and it was extremely emotion evoking (probably, I was busy pumping myself up for what was to follow.).
After the poem was finished, I could practically feel the end approaching. Because of this, I almost jumped from the bleacher I was sitting on (lowest one for convenience) and power-walked toward the microphone-holding Exey (ex-Desky). I could hear practically everyone chattering about it, since I'm notoriously willing to be in the background and completely unknown. I used that as fuel to keep going, confident that if they were talking about me going up there, it would be easy to get them to hear what I was going to say.
Apparently, I had beaten someone from a higher bleacher to the mic, which led to a short discussion where I said I wanted to speak and Exey said Carrier (another parody, permission will be asked before he's mentioned again.) wanted to speak. I proceeded to stay up there and force-of-will my way to the fore (in reality, Carrier was just too far away for it to be reasonable for him to go first.). I stood up there, cracked a joke related to Fullman's opener (something about the last piece of pumpkin pie and being full on Thanksgiving.), and quickly asked my question "ivegottowritesomethinglatertodayandineedapromptsoifiguredicouldjustaskeveryoneatonce." (translation: I've got to write something later today and I need a prompt so I figured I could just ask everyone at once.). There was some stunned silence, which I was usually fine with because the question can come as a shock. In this case, I was seriously considering handing Exey the mic and dashing back to the safety of the lowest bleacher next to Box. I stood my ground, since everyone was watching.
Someone finally gave a clear answer, but I somewhat wish he hadn't. "A piece of pizza that comes to life." I said I could work with that, returned the microphone, and power-walked back to my seat to hear about Coffee House from Carrier. I don't know what everyone thinks of me for trapping them in MMM (Monday Morning Meeting) for an extra minute or two, but I can't bring myself to be sorry after an like that. As I only later learned, the prompt was from an episode of the Nickelodeon show Jimmy Neutron. Still, I'd put too much into going to the center of the gym and asking my question, so here we go.
Prompt - Start!
And here I thought, once his summer was over, Sidney would leave me alone. Nope, nuh uh, no such luck. Here I am, still fully Medium Aware and frustrated that the reason I was brought back to this "Young Writers Project" was so I could be hit with a terrible situation where I get to meet a talking pie. Honestly, just leave me and my world alone!
I would say I need to have words with Sidney, but it would do no good, he doesn't listen and is far too aloof for anything to get through that assuredly thick skull of his. If you don't know me, and I certainly hope you do after what I've gone through for this sadist, I'm Mikoto Anderson; Sidney's personal punching bag when he can't come up with a better way to use one of his "prompts". Not to go into anything too detailed, I dislike this author and request transfer immediately. But I guess I've gotta live through this part first, so... I better not die because of cheese and bread.
It was a Friday night like most others. I was home, alone because Mom and Dad were out for their anniversary and Tina, my little sister, was at a friend's sleepover party. Gerry and Emily, my closest two friends, working the graveyard shift at the local bakery and practicing for the school's upcoming production of Hamlet respectively. With all those circumstances, I was flipping through pages in a book on sewing techniques with as much interest as a scientist would have in real life aliens. Suddenly, I heard a thundercrack that sent Nopo, my orange cat, skittering upstairs. Tate, my dog, bolted after him with a start. Neither of them liked thunder, which I found kind of odd.
What I also found odd, to a much greater degree, was the timely knock on my door just after the noise fron the thunder died down and the dog's footfalls ceased to echo. I thought in passing that maybe it would be a prelude to my knowledge of my world's falsity being erased and every memory of Sidney's meddling fading into nonexistence. Then I laughed at myself for trying to be so optimistic. Sidney would never get rid of such an easy way to get through his prompts. I wasn't comforted, but I knew I was right.
I went to the door, considered not opening it, then I did because not would only make the problem worse. In front of me stood a delivery guy for Jack's, the big name pizzeria that had an outlet about half an hour away. In his hands was a white cardboard box that I felt held my doom, or at least something with anchovies. They were the same thing when it came to pizza.
The delivery guy, wearing a red t-shirt with black stripes on the arms and the shop's logo of a metal jack in green and orange. His face was obscured by the visor hat that had a similarly colored jack on it, which left me to look at his curly blond hair and fair skin.
"Uh, I didn't order anything..." I began, starting to shut the door. Quickly, the mystery man stuck his foot in between the door and the doorframe, forcing it open without even showing signs of effort. I released the door and stared at his obscured face, still shadowed by the visor hat whose jack had began spinning on end. "Seriously, wrong house!" The jack on the man's hat began spinning faster.
"No, you didn't," He held the box out rigidly. "But someone did. And we both know who it is, so just take the pie and get this over with." My eyes widened in shock. Something in mystery guy's voice told me he knew about Sidney. "C'mon, just do whatever it is and be done with it."
"Wait, is that someone supposed to be-" I began.
"Of course, Mikoto, who else would send... this?" He opened the box and dropped it to the ground, turning and dashing into the night. I would have followed, but the thing in the box blocked my way almost instantly.
It was a cheese pizza with eight pieces of pepperoni on it; six in an arc along what was currently the bottom, two further away and equally distant from one another. I somehow felt that it was looking at me, and had that confirmed by the first words out of it's pepperoni arc, which turned out to be a mouth.
"Looks yummy," it opened its mouth and spoke in a fluctuating high-low-high voice, narrowing its circular eyes in... hunger? I didn't know food got hungry. "Mmm, I like the look of this one. Yummy, yummy yummy!" It flew at me, chanting its pre-dinner mantra with increasing ferocity.
I shut it up with the door, completely bored with the entire situation. If Sidney wanted me dead, which he may have, he should have chosen a better way than death by pepperoni pizza. I sighed, turned around, and started back to the couch. That's about the time a slip of stark white paper came out of literally nowhere and slammed into my face. I ripped it off and read the words of my least favorite person.
You know, Mikoto, it's terribly rude to slam the door in a guest's face. Peppy, that's what I named the pizza, just wants to eat you alive, that's how this is supposed to go! "A living pizza that kills people," that was my prompt. I'm probably paraphrasing, but it's basically the same thing! I crumpled the note up and threw it on the ground, stamping my foot on it repeatedly. Another one flittered down into my vision.
You really have no sense of respect for your pseudo-god, do you? Sheesh, it's like I've got to do everything around here just to get a post done! I began to tear this one up. Hey! Stop that, I took the time to italicize the text for this part, you jerk! I swear I'll -------- I kept tearing, plopping down on my couch and letting myself relax. It was nice to actually put Sidney through his paces for a change, even if I'd eventually have to go with whatever he decided. A third piece of paper fell from the ceiling.
Mikoto Palpatine Anderson, listen to me this instant! The note's words became audible sound, sending a booming voice I was positive wasn't Sidney's actual one into my ears. If you don't deal with Peppy, that's fine. I don't really care how - or who - he eats, so long as he does. So you have a choice, Mikoto: do you confront Peppy, or do your parents? Your sister and her friends? Gerry and Matilda? Emily and everyone else in your drama club? I tensed, trying to snatch the note out of the air and tear it to shreds. It zipped out of reach and continued. I made them all to be dispensible, just side characters in a little story that I wrote months ago! You're the one who made it so much more COMPLICATED. The moment you signed that note, you gave me an outlet for these things. I'm using it now, Koto, whether you like it or not. Make your choice, you have three seconds. I leapt from the couch, tore to the door, and ripped it open just fast enough to see Peppy draw back from the face-to-door strategy he'd been trying to get in.
"Yummy!" Whooped the pie, flying at me again with hunger in his pepperoni eyes. I dove backward, slamming into the floor painfully. While the pizza worked out how to turn around, I ran out the door and made sure he heard, prompting him to follow me with haste.
I'm not exactly the slowest person in the world, but I had trouble outrunning a living disk of bread, tomato sauce, and cheese that didn't have legs or get tired. I could still hear 'Yummies' leaving the thing's mouth as I rounded the corner at the end of my block and sprinted down Main Street. Every store was closed, aside from Opaline Eats, which gave me at least a bit of comfort. Gerry was tough enough to handle Peppy, provided I didn't manage myself. Based on the feeling in my legs, I didn't think I would.
"Yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy, YUMMY!" Peppy's gnashing dough was right behind me, I could feel flecks of cheese and sauce dropping onto the back of my head. I broke to the left and let the pie slam uselessly into the door of the hardware store. Rather, he went through the door of the hardware store, shattering glass and making a crashing noise that couldn't have been healthy. I stepped over the broken frame and grabbed a shovel from a display stand. I'd have to apologize to Frank, the owner, for the grease stains I planned to leave.
From behind the counter at the back of the store, Peppy rose raggedly. He was certainly worse for wear, pieces of glass sticking out of his crust and cheese. His pepperoni mouth was half off, revealing sauce that looked more like blood. His entire body, if you can even call it that, was bleeding tomato sauce and cheese was falling off. He narrowed his remaining eye and growled loudly.
"Stupid yummy! Food should act like food!" He screamed, throwing himself at me with mach five speed. I stuck the shovel out and shut my eyes, the sight of monster pizza that didn't understand irony was too much. After a beat of three, I opened my eyes and saw what my action had done.
Peppy was speared by the shovel, the spade going through his mouth and out his back. He twitched weakly, still trying to reach his dinner.
"Yu.....m.....my....." He moaned, limply thrashing against the hold of the shovel. I threw my weapon to the ground and got another one out of the stand, determined to end the thing and go home. I swung down with my new spear after a second, earning a mess of cheese and sauce washing over me. I looked down at the mess on the floor and sighed, turning to go. A piece of paper like many before came into view.
How cruel, Mikoto! He just wanted to eat, and you killed him for it! Sidney's voiceless words angered me, but I read on. I guess I'm glad that you did that, though. I wouldn't want to have to invent another version of you for more prompts... I'm sorry I tried killing you off so ridiculously. The shock of Sidney the Sadistic apologizing was quickly replaced with suspicion. He must have been planning- I am not planning anything. I grant you hiatus from mention on YWP and any other place I might write for the next month as a proper apology. Try to get used to this Koto, it's hard enough trying to write without you actively resisting. I rolled my eyes and, for the first time, remembered the pizza guy.
"Who was that, the one who brough Peppy to my house?" I asked aloud, unsure if Sidney was... He's the author, of course he can hear my thoughts. The note in front of me flipped around and revealed a shaking line of words barely finished being written.
Someone... brought Peppy to you? That's... that's not what I wrote...
Bum bum BUM! Who could the mystery man be? Wait a month and find out, or don't. Really, it's your call.