Pizza pizza pizza! Jack, Max and I always did love our pizza especially after getting high beyond all belief. So one night after smoking some of natures finest we ring up the nearest Dominos and request several large (is there any other size?) supreme pizzas to pick up. Of course, as we were baked we were being tools on the phone, pestering the dude and it took ages for us to place our order. It seems we pissed them off because moments later we got a call from an acquaintance of ours named George who was in the employ of this fine franchise. He asked us whether or not we'd just order pizza. We replied in the affirmative and he then informed us that the reason he was calling was because the guy who answered the phone was now planning a "splooge-party" for our pizzas.
Splooge-Boy had declared way on our little posse. He would live to regret it.
First, we waited some time to recover from our drug induced haze then we made sandwiches as we needed something that hadn't been artificially inseminated to eat. Next we called in a favor from another acquaintance who happened to work at one of our towns finest adult novelty stores. After we explained the situation he was very accommodating and arranged to meet us behind the Dominos in twenty minutes time. So we bundled ourselves down there wearing our stealthiest clothes and waited. Adult store buddy (who wishes not to be named) rolls down shortly afterwards. With him he brings a box full of the requested materials but he then has to dash back to work. Then we waited for George's break when he would complete his part of the plan.
So there we were, lying in the grass behind the pizza joint at 11pm watching the back door, getting excited every time it opened thinking it was George. Eventually, after the delivery guy coming and going far too many times, George slipped out the back and we went to meet him. "Got em!" he says and hands over the keys to Mr. Splooges shitty car. With haste we open the trunk, empty the box into it and lock it back up. George goes back inside to return the keys to the Splooge's jacket while Max ducks over to the public phone to make an anonymous call to the local authorities.
Moments after Max's claims that he saw someone being shoved into the trunk of a red sedan outside the Dominos: the police come out of the backdoor. Obviously they had come through the front and asked who owned the car. With them was Mr. Splooge and a few of the other employees including George. They asked Splooge to open the trunk and we all rubbed our hands in anticipation as it opened. Next thing: laughter, as the cops start taking a look at the assorted gay porn magazines and old dildos we'd dumped in there. Satisfied that we'd exacted revenge we made our way home, and then gave the adult store a call to let him know that the box magazines and toys they couldn't sell did the trick perfectly. Then we got baked some more.
PS: The dude became a laughing stock because no one believed the stuff didn't belong to him so he quit soon after. George got promoted to his position. We are like fucking legends or something I think.