Chris

Back when I was "Pizza Boy", the store I worked at hired Chris.  He drove a piece of shit Toyota, a huge broken down bread truck, and eventually a minivan, which has since caused them more trouble than a blind lesbian at a fish market.  He now drives a vomit green 1972 Ford LTD.  He says it's a "classic car".  That's one way to put it.  "Old piece of shit that's falling apart at the seams" is another way.  He had the bread truck for his business, and no he isn't a baker.  He's the guy that you call when you need your pipes cleaned.  He's a male prostitute...no, actually, he is the local plumber.  When I want to know if a particular restaurant is clean, I ask Chris.  Lots of insight to be had, such as which restaurants have a good supply of mice, roaches, and general nastiness.  He's married to his high school sweetheart, Cynthia.  They have four kids, one dog, and 19,000 Maine Coon cats.  Whenever I'm at their house, I end up getting all sniffly, runny-nosed, and watery-eyed because of those evil, foul felines.  It gets so bad, that I have to step outside and have a smoke in order to feel good.  She claims her cats are hypoallergenic, and that it must be one of her non-show cats.  I don't care which cat it is, they all need to be terminated with extreme prejudice.  My choice of disposal would be with a wood chipper but she would frown upon that.  The dog, Jayhawk, didn't like me at first, but once I let him have some of my Papa John's pizza, he quickly became my buddy.  Their herd of children obviously think I'm a tree, because they like to climb on me, hit me, and throw things at me when I'm in their presence.  It's always an event going to their house.  Occasionally, Cynthia will lengthen the leash she has Chris's balls on for one night a week, so we'll go eat a big fat gonzo sized steak, have some adult beverages, and shoot some pool.  Naturally, being the nice guy that I am, I let him win.  He was in the Army and over in Saudi Arabia during Operation Desert Storm at the same time I was.  He was a grunt on the front lines, while I was busy being a pussy, playing switchboard operator and making sure HMMWV's (Humvee) didn't disconnect our communication cable by constantly running over it.  However, we didn't know each other until Pizza Hut a number of years later.

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