#13 Yep, You Almost Died
There was this one house that made my heart stop every time it came up, which was thankfully rare. Call it instinct or energy or whatever, but I hated that house. And because there was only two of us, and I was 20 years younger than the other guy, it was usually me who delivered. It was the only house on a single-lane road.
To give you an idea of the dissonance here, the nearest major road consisted of a new McMansion development within one mile, and a sleepy little 1950s-style, cookie-cutter suburbia development a mile in the other direction. It’d be really easy to mistake this road for an access road, especially with how heavily overgrown that area had become.
Once you got on this little road, the first twenty feet or so seemed absolutely normal. It was only after you turned the bend where the road turned to gravel that things went crazy. There were naked store mannequins covered in paintball splatter with BB guns tied to their hands. There were also signs every five or ten feet that read: “NO TRESPASSING,” “PRIVATE PROPERTY,” “CCTV RECORDING IN PROGRESS,” and “YOU ARE BEING WATCHED.”
I got to the gate and called the customer, only be told to not approach the house under any circumstances and to not leave the vicinity of my car. There I was, a 24-year-old woman deep into the woods at some psycho’s house-fort with terrible reception on my phone, just trying to deliver a pizza. So, I got out of my car, took out the pizza bag, and leaned against the side of my car, hoping that I wouldn’t end up on the nightly news. Out walked a guy who was dressed like he just came off a Men in Black film set. He took his pizza and wings, tipped me five dollars, and instructed me how to turn my car around.
Credit: Ayjia