TL:DR; This Dominos sucks. Don't order food here.
As with any long term relationship there will be an ebb and flow. Occasional missteps and items forgotten are taken in stride with the hand tossed, robust tomato sauce goodness. I run a finger across the spines on the bookshelf in my study. I pause over Sun Tzu's The Art of War. I flip to Chapter One....Laying Plans. There's a crash as I swipe clean the desk surface and move the pieces around my thin crusted battlefield. Calculations and formulas are furiously sketched in Dry Erase Marker. A fool-proof plan begins to form in my mind. I would beat all the plebeian Dominos neophytes. I was to be the final boss of the Dominos Tracker on this eve. As the faint blue light from my fruit logo emblazoned mobile device casts a glow onto my face, I cackle softly.
Returning to the opened book I thumb to Chapter Three: Attacking by Stratagem. I've listened to the ReplyAll podcast. I've read the food hacking blogs. I know the secret to holiday Dominos domination and it's a scheduled delivery...the cheat codes of mobile based food delivery. I know their ordering system and know how crazy it can get during holidays like NYE, Halloween, etc. Now...to pick a time. Not too early...no no, cold pizza is not a flex but a mere physical representation of an inept commander. Not too late either, we don't want our pizza lost in the fray of unwashed masses. My finger hovers over the times like a ball bouncing around a roulette wheel. I close my eyes and select 4:50pm. The dice of Dominos fate have been cast.
On the Eve of All Hallow's I begin my ritual. The final pumpkin carvings are made. The children's costumes are jushed. My wife asks me about dinner. I hold my abdomen and tilt my head back as a confident chuckle erupts from my throat and spills in the room. "Food will not be issue THIS evening. For your hunter hath bagged the mightiest of trophies...The holiday Dominos delivery". A look of concern draws itself across my beloved's face. "But my dear," she responds worriedly "On celebrations past the deliveries have been half, nay, full hours tardy in their delivery." A thin smile spreads across my face as I lean closely and whisper my secret incantation, "Ah, but this year I am using....Scheduled Delivery". Her eyes widen in shock and settle in admiration. She pulls me in close and places a soft kiss on my cheek. A primordial rush of adrenaline courses through my veins, I eat a celebratory Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.
As the shorthand passes the Roman numeral V on my Apple Watch I decide to open the Dominos Tracker to track my prey as it makes it way into my domain. "No Active Orders?!" I murmur softly to myself. The beginnings of panic start to creep in on the outer edges of my consciousness. I take a deep breath and suppress the emotion. Yet I am only a man...I indulge the doubt and decide to call. Surely this is a mere hiccup. My fears are calmed as the voice on the other end of the line responds, "Ah yes, the BIG order. Do not fret as since your trophy is not in the oven it must be in the driver's vehicle. He repeats my secret incantation...Scheduled Delivery and all." I echo the words, "Scheduled Delivery"...but my voice trails off and my eyes settle on a distant point on the horizon. I absentmindedly place handfuls of candy into the bags of costumed fairies, minions, and disco colored combatants of two weeks or a fortnight ago. I cringe as an initial pang of hunger makes itself known.
My mind snaps into focus as I feel a not-so-gentle tug on my Bonobos chinos. "Ah, heir to my throne. Future Master of all the eye can see! (Within the land lines set by the County Assessor of course) To what do I owe this assertive introduction?". "I hungee me Lord. And when do we get to go tick-or-tweating?" My deep voice responds reassuredly..."Fret not lad. For the warm bounty of Dominos is on the way. You may explore the nearby region for treats". The small band of candy ravenous children make their way into the wild to forage for treats and avoid tricks.
Time passes, the candles in the jack-o-lanterns begin to flicker as they burn out, the once crowded sidewalks of trick-or-treaters begin to empty, a lone wolf howls in the distance. I check my watch and notice it's 8pm. My 4:50pm scheduled delivery seems like a distant memory, a dream of a previous life. What does it all mean? I call back the franchise looking for answers. In my existential haze I absent-mindedly nod and murmur curt responses. "Excuse me?" I exclaim as the order number recited back to me is now in the 80s? All the time delivered had been marked as delivered? Were my pizzas delivered and I simply hadn't noticed? I shake off the thought. This cannot be! It was not a lone wolf howl in the distance but rather my stomach growling furiously from hunger. The wind carries a light chorus of the chants of children hungry from their night of pillaging. If they cannot have pizza then they will have blood. I plead with Dominos manager. What can we do? How can we feed this insatiable hunger that returns? The coldness on the other end chills me to bone. They can do nothing. They will cancel my request and refund my money. The line goes dead. Were my incantations not enough? Did I not recite the words in the proper order. Did I miss a gesture on the mobile device? As reality begins to form as a concrete block forms around the feet before submersion my fate is sealed. The once jubilant exultations of the horde with their ill gotten loot transforms into a symphony of anguish. Thinking quickly I cast a quick cantrip and allow the beasts to engage in their booty without restraint and, as they begin to gorge themselves, I frantically cast about the kitchen inventing new recipes on the fly. My flourish is enough to satiate even the hangriest of ghouls yet the hollowness inside of me cannot be filled with things of this material realm.
As the last sheet is brought taut under the final chin and the last night-light flipped, I tread softly to my own bed. The icy black doorway looks like a deep abyss; void of light and absent of life. The back of my queen is to me as I slip into the cool sheets. No words need be spoken to express the judgement that is echoing on the walls around me, incessantly mocking my foolishness. Tonight we will dine not on mozzarella and cured meats. Tonight we will dine...on sleep. Tonight we will dine on meals past and of full bellies. As my head is cradled by the memory foam pillow a single manly tear cascades down my cheek and absorbs into the Egyptian cotton fabric. There it will rest forever...waiting...remembering.