He gets in real close and he leans in, he goes,
"You keep the change, Gus Johnson."
This is The Pizza Delivery That Should Have Killed Me.
So, when I was in high school, you know I had a shitty truck
and I had a shitty life.
So of course, I worked at a shitty pizza place.
I worked at a pizza place that was literally called
The Pizza Place.
That's like the dumbest, come on, man.
I know it was the only pizza place for like 50 miles,
but like come on, throw some Italian bullshit in there.
So, I'm working one winter night, not real busy
and the phone rings. The girl picks it up.
She goes, "Hello. The name, oh, it's Gus, Gus Johnson."
At this point in time I'm like, "What the fuck? Who is this?
It's a small town. Everybody knows everybody.
Who is this right now?"
"Gus Johnson. Yep, The Pizza Place in town,
The Pizza Place, The Pizza Place?
Yes, The Pizza Place. Okay, thank you. Bye-bye."
"Hey, who was that?"
"I don't know who that was." "What?
Did you just give my full information away to a stranger?"
That's not too bad though, small town, safety net.
I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt.
So, I take the pizza, I throw it in the truck,
and I drive way in the middle of nowhere,
and I'm talking middle of nowhere.
Think Fargo, think the wood chipper scene,
but without the wood chipper.
I come from a small town.
There's a thousand people in my small town
and we have one stoplight. There were like 20 car accidents
the year that the stoplight got put in.
I do not come from a very forward-thinking people.
Now, it's the middle of winter. I pull into the driveway
and I see a truck idling out in the front yard
and I see that the front door is open.
"The front door's open. What the heck, you guys?
It's cold out. You gotta shut that front door."
So, I pull out the pizza, I stroll up to the front door
and I see that the door has been busted off of its hinges.
Okay, how did I not turn back at this point?
That's the stupidest shit in the world.
I should just gone back. They knew my full name.
What's the protocol here? There's no pizza protocol.
There's no, I don't even know what to do,
and I walk into it just like a little pubescent idiot
with a hot pizza as my weapon of choice.
"Hello, pizza," and I peek into the living room
and what do I see?
It's a dude kneeling by the fireplace,
totally dressed like a robber,
and when I say, dude, think Joe Pesci from Home Alone.
Okay, I'm talking the full beanie thing.
He's got cigarette burns on his face.
He's mucky, he's dirty, and he's got like two kitchen chairs
and a coffee table and he's breaking the legs off
and throwing him into the fireplace.
I guess for warmth because the door was open, you know,
hey, maybe he's fallen on hard times.
Maybe he's not a bad boy after all.
So, I turn to the guy and I go, "Hey man, pizza."
He turns up, "What? What?"
"Oh, no, no, just the pizza from The Pizza Place."
"The Pizza Place?"
"Yeah," I'm not doing that joke again.
So, the first guy calls off into the other room goes, "Hey,"
I guess to one of his other cronies or something.
Another dude comes around, he's got a greasy backpack on.
He's like, "Pizza?"
"Yeah Man, I got the pizza." I'm shitting my pants right now.
What they got me outflanked right now.
What am I supposed to do here?
I've got a Diet Mountain Dew on the truck.
Maybe I'd spray him in the face, but that's 20 yards away.
So the dude looks at me, he goes, "What do I owe you?"
I was like, "Oh, it's about $20."
He slides the zipper back on the greasy backpack.
He reaches his hand in, I know it's gotta be a machete.
I'm getting hacked to pieces like that dining room table
and popped into the fireplace.
Well, I'm going to die out here. There's no recourse,
and that dumb ass on the phone told them my full name.
So, he sets the grubby backpack down.
He pulls out a big Ziploc bag. The kind of the big drawstring,
you know the kind that's great at protecting freezer burns.
Is that a sponsor for you guys?
And the whole bag is stuffed to the brim
with crumpled up $100 and $50 bills.
What, am I delivering to a meth den?
Okay, no joke. Just a quick aside,
I have delivered to meth dens before.
My county is the highest meth-producing capitol
in the entire United States.
Straight-up Breaking Bad shit. This is not a point of pride.
So, he pulls out this big plastic bag
full of crumpled 50s and 100s
and he pulls out like this grubby,
what happened to this bill?
It was like grubby and wet and it was a $50 bill.
The guy walks over to me with the greasy $50 bill.
He gets in real close, he gets all the way up to me,
he slips the bill forward and he leans in, he goes,
"You keep the change, Gus Johnson."
So, I take my 50 I ring it out from the fucking bile
that it's dripping with,
I stick it in my pocket and I speed out of there,
and at this point in time, I'm thinking,
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
The girl that gave him my full name and where I live
and now he can find me at any point in time.
it was totally just like, "I know who you are.
I'll fucking kill you, Gus Johnson."
There's one pizza place in 50 miles.
How am I gonna make it out of town?
It hasn't happened so far
and I think that was about five years ago.
I made it this far. I still wake up in the morning.
I'm like, "Today's the day, table guy's gonna fuck me up,"
but if there's one good thing that's come from it,
I have survived longer than The Pizza Place
because it is no longer in business.
There is no moral there either.
Hey, I'm Gus Johnson.
I shot a bunch of stuff at Comedy Central this week.
I don't know where they're going to put the links.
I don't know who does that shit, but click on one of the videos,
cause there's more of me.