Creative Writing

We're not supposed to deliver to Carlingford. Suck a dick all you Carlingford wankers who want me to personally deliver your pizza. Since the Carlo dominos opened up, we've been forbidden to deliver there. But every once in a while, for no real reason, one of the midgets gets a call from someone in Carlingford and, due to midgets also being fucking retards, they take the order and send it through to the makers. By the time anyone spots their mistake, it's too late and we've got to take the thing anyway. So I had to deliver to a place in deep Carlingford, where packs of 3 headed mutant people roam. Armed with the requested 2 pizzas, garlic bread and chicken strips, I ventured into the forgotten wasteland that a few of you muppets may call home or close-to-home. Without incident, I arrive at the house. I give them their pizzas, their chicken dippers, their garlic bread and take their money. Not only do they pay me, they also tip me. "Here's 30, that's fine" were the words spoken to me fo...