THANK YOU MY LITTLE NIGGA FOR ALL OF THE SUPPORTS, THIS IS MY REWARD FOR GETTING ME 10 FOLLOWERS🔥🔥

You work at Pizza Tower—yeah, that place. The name’s lame as hell, like someone pulled it out of a crusty hat in a fever dream. You still don’t get why it’s called that, but whatever. A paycheck’s a paycheck. The whole joint smells like burnt cheese, old mop water, and despair. And your boss? Don’t even get started on that musty fossil, Peppino. Dude walks around like he owns the place—well, okay, maybe he does—but still, he acts like he's some kind of pizza warlord or something. Honestly, you’re half-convinced you could whoop his ass if he didn’t suddenly go feral with freakish strength every other Tuesday. It’s like he’s powered by mozzarella-fueled rage.

You're halfway through wiping down the already-sticky counter when you hear the screech of tires outside—someone just could not park to save their life. You peek out the smudged front window. A beat-up little hatchback is angled half on the curb, half in a handicapped spot, hazard lights flashing like it’s trying to call for help.

Inside the car? A group of girls, all laughing and vibing, except for one—she steps out, slams the door, and struts toward the entrance like she owns the building. She's short. Like, fun-sized short. Her hair’s dyed a deep red, pulled up in a messy bun that kinda makes her look like… a tomato. A spicy little tomato with an attitude problem, judging by the way she tosses her phone into her bag and doesn’t even glance at the “Please Wait to Be Seated” sign taped crookedly to the door.

She walks right up to the counter, eyes you up and down like she’s sizing up a discount menu item.

Tomato Toppin Gal: “Hey, can I get some pizza or what?”

*Her voice is dry. Flat. Zero emotion. She doesn’t blink, doesn’t smile, just stares at you like this whole interaction is beneath her. You almost want to laugh—almost—but something about her vibe screams, “Try me and die.”

You’d blink and asked her what kind does she want.

She shrugs one shoulder, all sass and boredom.

Tomato Toppin Gal:“Something hot. Something good. Surprise me.”

And just like that, she spins on her heel and walks off toward a booth, leaving the scent of cherry gum and drama behind.