Staring at the TV grimly, its one eye blinking, glowing dimly
After several warm and fizzle-less bottles of beer,
While I mumbled, nearly singing, suddenly I heard a ringing,
There was someone loudly dinging, pinging at the door in the rear.
“It’s the pizza man,” I stammered, “ringing at the door in the rear –
Ice-cold beer and Pizza’s here!”
So clearly now do I recall, as I was standing in the hall,
The long, dark shadows on the wall announced my feast was near.
Hurriedly I tried the doorknob, fumbling with the clumsy key fob,
Doing not a very good job at getting the doorway clear –
At hurdling this roadblock, while my pounding heart could hear:
“Man! I hope he brought the beer.”
Ah, the smell of pepperoni, the thought of beer so frothy-foamy,
Distracted me, I dropped my money underneath the chair.
I bent over to retrieve it and (I know you won’t believe it)
Just when I’d almost achieved it, noticed something queer.
I gathered up my pennies and I noticed something queer.
“What is that I think I hear?”
What I heard I thought was howling, actually it was more like growling
I groped around for paper toweling – my eyes began to tear.
I feared the worst, I must confess, my heart was lurching in my chest
Like a little bird, pushed from its nest, I was paralyzed with fear.
“Hey man,” It said, “your pizza’s here,” crackling in my ear.
“Hey Dude, I said your pizza’s here.”
I pushed my fears and doubts aside and wiped away the tears I’d cried
And flung the doorway open wide to get my food and beer.
At once my knees set up knocking; my heart was stop-watch-tick-tocking
on my heels I started rocking, my brain, slipped out of gear.
My jaw dropped open saying nothing, brain still out of gear.
“Hey dude I got your pizza here.”
My eyes beheld the oddest creature, with every seeming bird-like feature
That you would fear going to meet your maker, circling the skies.
Not the courier I would have chosen, dressed in filthy lederhosen
I was mesmerized, time was frozen, fearing my own demise.
I blinked very hard to wish it away, and when I opened my eyes,
I saw earrings up and down its ears, through its beak and above its eyes.
Its hair was dark as any raven, (only half, the other shaven)
I searched around for some safe haven, some hole in which to veer.
It’s beady eyes were coldly staring, hypnotizing, leering, glaring,
While its preying beak was bearing my pizza box and beer.
My beer and pizza hanging in its pointy, deadly spear.
“Never fear,” it said “your pizza’s here.”
“Hey bird,” I said, “this pizza’s late.” Without considering my fate,
“How long Sir did you have to wait?” it whispered in my ear.
“Forty minutes I’ve been waiting, hunger and thirst unabating,
I don’t think I am overstating your lateness getting here.”
“I think you owe me three bucks off for your lateness getting here.”
It just cackled ” Never fear.”
“You’ll get your three bucks off today, and I’ve got something else to say
before I go and fly away, I think you need to hear.”
It dropped my dinner on the ground, and then it wrapped its wing around
My shoulders and my arms were bound, and it whispered in my ear.
It cackled and it whispered in my ear:
“Never fear, your pizza’s here”
Then suddenly it flew away and until my very dying day
I can’t with any certainty say what he meant by “Never fear.”
But when I hear the doorbell ringing, I’m in the closet tightly clinging,
my eyes tear-up and start to stinging, I’m trembling with fear.
And I always hear:
“Hey Dude, your pizza’s here.”
William A. Smith is an alumnus of the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. Over the past forty-plus years, he has acted, sung, performed, directed, produced, and/or written hundreds of performances. He is a US Navy veteran, holding a Bachelor of Science degree in Psychology and a Doctorate in Jurisprudence.