Curiosity got the best of him and he picked up the phone. “Hello,” he began. “Del’s Pizza Palace. How can I help you?” he continued in an eerily even velvety voice.

“Um…hi. I see you have a coupon—two-for-$10 and a free 2-liter—in today’s paper…” the tinny, timid voice broke in on the line.

He inhaled suddenly, startled by the abruptly-intensified aroma of burning flesh and textile. He’d thrown one of the corpses on the stovetop. He turned his head back to check on it. It was smoldering, noxious grey clouds wafting upwards from the now-deceased man’s burning face. The apron had caught fire. “Go on,” he prompted.

“Um, yeah, can you get me…uh…two pepperoni, one with extra cheese?” the caller continued. “And a Coke?”

He hesitated, but sensed a new opportunity to satisfy his bloodlust. “Certainly,” he began to reply, but he glanced at the drink freezer. The Cokes were exploded, having fallen to the floor when he threw the head chef in the freezer. “…but I’m sad to say we’re out of Coke. Dr. Pepper work?”

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