Double-Crust Seven Tomato Pizza

I was walking back from the bookstore when I decided
to stop for a slice of pizza. I’m not sure what came over me,
because really I’m not that into greasy foods.
Give me a mushroom fricassee or some zucchini stew
or even some walnut cake if I’m feeling indulgent,
but never something like this. I abide by a strict
dietary code. Still, by the time I had thought all this
I found myself at my table, excitedly waiting
for my two slices of pepperoni and black olive. I could
smell it now, cooking in that big round beehive,
mozzarella cheese bubbling and crisping to brown
and the thick red sauce dancing in the limelight.
It was going to be fantastic, and besides, I could
afford to indulge. As I was thinking all of this
I noticed a woman a few tables away
looking at me. Not in any way, just staring,
the way that people do when they’re
adding sums in their head, so I tried
to politely gesture to her to let her know
she was staring. To my surprise, she stood up
and started walking over. She was in her mid-thirties
but had a wedding band on and could have
used more makeup. Still, she wasn’t the
worst-looking thing I’d ever seen. When she got
over to me, she put her hands on the side
of the table and looked down at me.
“You’re not allowed to be here,” she said plainly.
“Well, if you need this table, I’ll certainly move,”
I said. “No, I don’t think you understand,” she said,
“you can’t be here.” I wasn’t sure what she was
talking about, so I said, “I’m not sure what you’re
talking about.” “You signed away your rights to eat here,”
she said. “I have the documents to prove it.” I still had no
idea what she was talking about, but I was determined
not to let this woman ruin my perfect meal, so I said,
“Listen, it’s a free country, I can eat wherever I want,”
which surprised even me. Then the pizza cook shouted
my name and rang the little bell, so I excused myself
and went to get my pizza. “Please, Mr. Novak,”
she said, following me to the counter, “we have
the documents right here. You’re no longer
allowed this kind of indulgence. In fact, this
is just one of several other infractions of your
contract which have been festering for quite some time.”
I sat back down, admiring the bubbling cheese,
the shining black olives, the crimson pepperoni.
Even the crust looked delicious. “Oh yes,”
I said, “those pesky infractions."