God I hated him. Hated him from the start. I never knew why he had so many friends. Why he was always the one that made people laugh in the break room, and the first person to get invited on a night out.
He wanted pizza for his birthday this year. Everyone agreed, and rubbed their hands at the thought of eating at their desks. I clenched my fists. Why was everyone so excited? Something had to be done.
So I agreed to organise the catering. A pizza per person, all on the corporate credit card. God bless the expense account of the private sector. He always loved a spicy pizza. That has always been his favourite. So I said I would give him a hot one. The hottest one they had.
I exported the scorpions from China. Waiting for their arrival was the worst part. But the fear of confiscation fed my anger, and my determination to succeed.
The glorious day arrived. Someone insisted we wear party hats. I met the delivery person downstairs, and slid my new friends amongst the orange gloop of pizza number one. They looked like burnt sliced onions, all curled up and black.
On the second flight of stairs I noticed the escapee on my hand.
Too late. My fingers were already swelling, and turning carrot purple. The final slog to the break room was a wobbly jelly ride, and the strip lighting burned like the sun. When I staggered through, the room erupted with a cheer. My nemesis dealt me a friendly shoulder slap, ignoring the freezing sweat staining the cotton.
We have shared out the pizzas. I am sitting in my cubicle now, a slice of ham and pineapple on a paper plate near my desktop. Someone has fetched a glass of water, and suggested I head home early. They will not miss me at the party.
My eyelids droop. Several voices are blurring together. But everyone has the correct pizza. I am so close. Let's see how happy he is now.
Line: The final slog to the break room was a wobbly jelly ride, and the strip lighting burned like the sun.
