How good is pizza?

So we all agree that barbecue chicken pizza is the most superior of all pizza flavours right? Right. This is a story about pizza, a couple of grumbling stomachs and an unexpected but wholesome friendship.


One usual Friday night, my friends and I did the usual thing after a long week. Meet up at mine to drink, smoke and talk shit. We would do other things too, like play an absolute banger classic, Tony Hawk on PlayStation 2. Or watch the latest instalments of epics like Dashcam Australia, Trick Shots and How It’s Made. With so many activities on the table, it’s not long until we’re feeling the most primal need. We hungry. Straight up starving. The answer?

Saint Albans Pizza Point. How may I help you?”

“Hi, can I have two family size pizzas for delivery. One barbecue chicken, and one tandoori chicken with extra yoghurt and mango chutney on the side.”

Side note, the answer is yes, it all tastes as good as it sounds.

“Sure, no problem. Address please?”

“Yep, that’s 5 Ban-“

“Ah, the one in Taylors Hill correct?” The lady interrupted.

“Yes thank you!” I swear I’m not a regular or anything, maybe.

“Okay no problem, anything else?”

“And I’ll also be paying by card if that’s alright?”

“Yes that’s fine, see you soon. Bye.”

I hang up the phone and the waiting game begins. The minutes race by as we tease our stomachs with the sugary sweetness, the signature Bundaberg range. Tonight’s menu: Burgundee Creaming Soda. My phone suddenly starts to ring.

Hello, my friend! I have your pizza. I am outside.”

The garage door opens, immediately inviting the beautiful aroma that is, pizza fresh out of the oven. A single red car parked in my driveway. The delivery guy emerges out of the car, pizza in hand. Literal joy in the palm of his hand. Two family sized pizzas worth of joy.

“Hello, my friend! Here are your pizzas.”

“Thanks mate. How much do I owe you?” I said, card in hand.

He fiddles around his jacket, his pants pockets, he then rummages around inside the little red car. Turning back to me, his face had gone pale. The panic becoming more apparent, more visible to even the likes of a very intoxicated me.

“Is everything okay bro?”

“Um, oh no man, do you have, um, cash?”

“Ah, nah only card man, sorry.”

Scratching his head in dismay, mind bewildered with uncertain thoughts.

“I am so sorry man, I have left the eftpos machine back at work. I don’t know what to do man. So sorry.”

Well, that’s a problem. Shit. What do I do here? Wait. Maybe, just maybe, my two mates in my pergola have cash on them. Yeah, this could work.

“No problem bro, don’t stress. Let me check with my mates inside to see if they have cash okay? Give me one sec.”

“Oh ok, ok, okay man. Thank you man. Ok.” He nodded profusely.

I run back inside the house, and into the pergola. My mates, there just chilling.

“Hey boys, anyone got cash to pay for the pizza?”

“Nah, sorry.” They said collectively. Well that was pointless.


I run back outside to the pizza delivery guy.

“Yeah so sorry bro, that didn’t work. They don’t have cash man.” I said sadly.

“Oh no man, ah I don’t know what to do, man.” He said, helpless.

“Wait! Wait! I got an idea. Oh shit, this could work!” I yelled in absolute excitement.

The delivery guy, shocked, confused and intrigued all at the same time.

“What if I just transfer you bro? Bank transfer. I can transfer the amount to you, and then on your way back to work, just withdraw it. Would that work? Are you with CBA?”

“Man, yes that will work! I can do this. Thank you very much. I am with CBA yes.” Colour came back to his face.

I whip out my phone. Minutes later, we completed the transaction.

“Thank you so much, my friend! You are very kind. Thank you! Have a good night.”

“Thanks mate, have a good night! See you again soon.” I waved goodbye.

We open the divine boxes and immediately we’re engulfed in the addictive smell of these godly creations. The melted cheese, chaotic like a tsunami crashing through anything and everything in its way. The barbecue sauce swirls through and captures, captures? Entangled? Entangled. The barbecue sauce swirls through and entangles the several tender chicken breasts. Helpless. Every bite, feeling like it hits home runners to all the milestones to date. Oh shit, and that’s just the barbecue chicken pizza. Don’t even get me started on the tandoori chicken pizza with yoghurt and mango chutney. Don’t even.

Every now and again, I’ll crave the occasional pizza. I mean, I’m only human. I’ll give my pals over at Pizza Point a call and within no time, pizza is delivered to my driveway. And now, every single time, my garage door will open and the little red car appears.

Always welcomed with, “hello, my friend!”

Thank you for reading to the very end of this story, your prize is a selfie of me and the absolute legend:

March 8th, 2019: That time I ordered some pizza.

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