One Large Sausage

My favorite food is pizza. It always has been. Golden brown crust, tomato sauce and stretchy mozzarella cheese. Thin crust, pan, stuffed, deep dish, any way you toss it, it's a slice of heaven to me. It may seem strange, then, that I haven't called and ordered a pizza myself in over a decade. One of the scariest things I can think of is calling and ordering a pizza. I have a severe case of pizza man phobia. It all started during my freshman year of college when some friends and I decided to put away the books, rent a movie, and order some pizzas. I took the phone and dialed the number.

"Hello," said the voice on the other end of the line. "Yes, I'd like one large sausage...," I started, but before I could get to the pepperoni or the breadsticks, I was interrupted by, "I've got a large sausage for you alright, honey," accompanied by some heavy breathing. I threw the phone and started screaming. After I calmed down enough to explain what had happened to my friends, one of them was brave and hesitantly dialed the number to the pizza place. This time they were greeted by a cheerful woman who politely took our order.

Thirty minutes or less later we sat eating our pizzas. I'll never know if I dialed the wrong number that night or not. I still can't get over my fear of ordering pizza on the phone. And even in restaurants, I play it safe and stick to plain cheese.