Every pizza place that delivers is characterized by its delivery area. I imagine that not all delivery areas carried the same diverse landscapes as the one in which I worked, but our customer base placed orders from locations as varied as dank rent-by-the-hour flophouse motels off the main drag, to brightly lit 25 room manses on huge plots off gated streets. Within the delivery area of the pizza place where I worked was a particularly dark and winding road with a name that phonetically sounded like “party,” wherein I was forced into a party that I will never forget.
It was near the end of my shift on a brisk and stormy evening during early fall in St. Louis County amidst the glory days of the 1990s, when we received an order for the party street. The party street houses are all on big lots and everyone is set pretty…
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Drinkers with Writing Problems 