Stop Writing Alone Prompt
Stop Writing Alone is a Substack run by Nicole Rivera with weekly and monthly writing prompts, videos, podcasts, and other community events so writers don’t have to feel like they’re out there alone.
The July writing prompt comes from the book “The One Minute Writer.” The prompt: After a long night of work, a pizza delivery person orders takeout food and discovers the person delivering their food is…himself. How is that possible? What happens next?
My take on the prompt: I have to admit, after watching “Scott Pilgrim” recently for the zillionth time, all I could think of was the Nega-Scott and the two of them walking out of the club casually chatting and making brunch plans. So, please, enjoy the story “Take Out.”
Take Out
I hadn’t thought twice when they took blood and urine samples or a piece of hair. I had been so desperate for a job and the pay and benefits were far more than many professional jobs offered. They wanted a baseline for the regular drug testing they did, after all, pizza delivery may be near the bottom rung of the working ladder but people needed to feel like what was delivered was safe.
And I was damn good at my job. Between the bonuses and commissions, it looked like I was doing the job of two people not one.
Lord knows, I needed that break after my ex left taking all the asserts and leaving me with a ton of debt on top of my student loans. Personally, I knew he’d drain the new arm candy dry too at some point. Perhaps I should have listened to his ex when she warned me.
Love is not only deaf and blind but stupid as well.
Today had been a rough day. A good one, but tough starting with the supervisor visit after I gave notice.
“Tell me,” she purred as I sat across the desk in what felt like an interrogation room, “how long have you been with us now?”
“Six months yesterday,” I said as she tapped those long red nails on the table top as she looked at the papers in the folder in front of her.
“Hmm…” her voice was low, as if talking to herself. “No complaints, highest percent of on time deliveries. Good driving record…” looking up at me, the smile on her lips sent a bit of a shiver down my spine. “Tell me, how have you kept up … energy wise? Please be honest. It’s important.”
“Well,” thinking it over a moment, “lately I’ve felt a bit more run down but for the most part I’ve been fine.”
“Interesting.”
Her dark eyes fixed on me, evaluating something. What, I wasn’t sure, but she was clearly scanning me for something.
“How much longer do you think you’ll be here?”
That was an odd question.
“Again, please be honest with me.”
“Well…” I started, “this morning I paid off my student loans and my mechanic. I know I can’t keep going at this pace, so I gave notice this morning, but you knew that.”
She shook her head, her fingers tapping on the table top as a chuff of air escaped through her nostrils. How did anyone manage to function with nails that long. I also noticed the blood red nail polish on her fingers matched the color of her lip stick. For some reason, they really complimented her pale skin instead of looking out of place.
“What’s next for you?”
“You want me to be honest, right?”
She nodded, a slow smile curling up on her lips.
“Well, this an exit interview. Honesty is always appreciated.”
“Well, I just heard, on my way in, that I got the job in the publishing industry I applied for as an acquisitions editor. It’s entry level, but the pay now works for me since my debt is cleared up.”
“You’ve worked hard and lasted longer than expected. Most only last a month or so. You must have a strong fortitude.”
“Well, I admit the money has been a driving factor for me.”
“I’m sure it has been. Well, celebrate tonight. Order from any one of our businesses, on the company. It has been good to have you on board and we will be sorry to see you leave. You’ll have a nice severance package as you hit the six month marker yesterday.”
As I rose, she stopped me.
“I need to make sure we have current information…” and I spent the next hour going over beneficiaries, insurance issues, and other paperwork. It was bittersweet handing the keys to the delivery vehicle over to my supervisor at shift’s end. When I left, I was exhausted.
At home, plopping down on the couch I took a deep breath and my eyes fell on the voucher. Calling the local Chinese take out not far from my place, I ordered my usual.
“Fifteen minutes,” the voice on the other end said.
Good, enough time to make some tea and get into my sweats. Fifteen minutes on the dot, the doorbell rang and I stood there in shock at the open door.
“Order for …” the woman looked up and froze.
I was looking at me.
Calmly, delivery me handed myself the order and sighed.
“I guess it was bound to happen,” delivery me said.
Standing in the open doorway holding the bag, I didn’t know what to say or do.
“You quit today, didn’t you? Oh well, it was a good run. I lasted longer than the other clones.”
“Clones?”
Did I just say that?
“What did you think the hair and blood samples were for?”
“Drug testing baselines.”
My clone smirked at me. A knot formed in my stomach as my shoulders rose toward my ears. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to relax as my clone gave me an eye roll.
“That was the urine sample.”
“Oh.”
I didn’t know what else to say.
“It was a good run. Well, I guess I have to be getting back now. It was nice to meet you. You’ll probably dismiss me as a weird dream, it’s cool. Have a good life.”
She bounced down the steps to the car. As soon as she got in, there was a wave of energy in the air, like watching the haze rising from the pavement on truly hot summer’s day, and she was gone.
There was no other word for it. One second there in my driveway then, poof, gone.
Where had she gone?
Then the smell of special number seven hit my olfactory senses and my stomach rumbled.
“Well, I hope you’re OK… wherever you are,” I said to no one and closed the door to eat my dinner.