A massive food truck with smoke flowing out from triple chimneys like spikes from its curved, shiny top parked in the open employee parking spaces beside Astrid Walters Elementary School. The truck’s rounded surface with its chrome finish reflected dreary gray skies above and the weather-worn brick walls of the nearby school. A happy green alien with a slice of pizza was painted on each side, along with large neon green letters that read: FLYING SAUCER PIES. Murphy stepped out in a flour-dusted brown outfit and sauce-smeared green apron and smiled as he hoisted open one side to reveal the serving counter.
A roaring oven became louder with the truck opened to the outside world. It featured three decks of conveyor belts, each loaded with pizzas of various types, 30 in total. The top belt had two pizzas about to emerge with their sizzling cheese glistening in the truck’s bright interior lighting.
Murphy took note of the emerging pies and was almost a blur as he pulled down a ramp and unloaded four folding tables from the back of his truck and set them up with tablecloths covered in cartoon aliens and flying saucers. He puffed his chest at the school with all its students about to be released and smiled at the idea of the incoming lunch break.
A warbling whistle of Murphy’s theremin ringtone signaled the first of many calls.
“Flying Saucer Pies, where you’ll find out of this world flavor,” Murphy answered with a grin.
“This is Jane McCoy at Astrid Walters School,” a middle-aged woman said. “Would you be able to help us with a big order?”
“What if I said I’m from the future, and I’ve predicted your pizza predicament?” Murphy nestled the phone between his ear and shoulder and rolled two carts of boxed pizzas down the rear ramp, a total of 40 pizzas in boxes with black marker scrawls to denote the toppings.
“You’re what?” Jane stuttered on her end of the phone to find her next words.
“It’s okay, Jane.” Murphy unloaded the pizzas onto the tables and sorted them by topping. “Teachers want to throw a pizza party at the end of every quarter for the kids. And since delivery time is thirty minutes, they wait until it’s ten minutes until lunch to ask the office to place the order.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being cynical,” Jane said.
“I’m being prepared. Look out your window.” Murphy popped out from behind a stack of cheese pizzas and waved at the front office window. “I mirrored the order from your end of year party in June. And I totally have you covered.”
“No wonder the vice principal demanded we order from you,” Jane said. “You’re such a lifesaver. The other places all say they’ll take 50 minutes to deliver on their sites.”
“Have your cafeteria staff come out and pick up the boxes.” Murphy sped back into his truck with an empty rack and doused his hands in sanitizer before he picked up a pair of peels to lift two pizzas at a time into open boxes. “I’ve got the first 40 already prepared and I’m finishing up the last 30 now.” His hands instantaneously switched to wielding dual pizza cutters to slice one meat pizza and one veggie pizza at the same time. “I’ve also prepared special dessert gifts for the staff and teachers.”
“I’ll send out the lunch crew now,” Jane said. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for ordering from Flying Saucer Pies, now to beam away.” Murphy ended the call and sanitized his hands after putting his phone back in his apron pocket. Not even a second passed before he was back at work loading boxes onto a rack and removing pizzas from his oven.
“I heard a UFO beamed into our parking lot.” A portly, middle-aged woman with short, curly blonde hair and a gray business blouse stood at the counter next to the menu placard. “Your food truck is looking astronomical, Mr. Moreno.”
“Thank you, Miss Serra.” Murphy bowed slightly as he opened four more boxes on the counter and loaded their designated pizzas within seconds. “The kids here have the best, kindest vice principal in the city.”
“Don’t say that too loudly,” Serra said. “Some of the kids tell stories that I breathe fire. Others believe snakes live in my hair.”
“Well, if you have medusa stone-making powers, I could always use a deal on a brick oven.” Murphy motioned between pizza cutting, boxing, and loading.
“My snakes and I could help you out with an oven, but I’d rather hire back one of the most promising fourth grade teachers I’ve ever known.” Serra tilted her head to the side and stared at Murphy.
A half dozen food service staffers in stained, blue food service uniforms rolled out dented, rusted carts and transferred pizzas to the school equipment. Their chatter and noise broke the two away from their conversation. Murphy whispered his thanks to them for doing so.
“You have our whole order down to the pie?” Serra stood tall and put her arms akimbo at the counter.
“Yes ma’am. I’ve got 70 total pizzas. That’s 45 cheese, five chicken, five sausage, five veggie, four rabbit, three meaty, and three combo.”
“Good.” Serra spun around and snapped at her staffers, “Get these all in cafeteria tables, but put the combo, meat, and veggie pizzas in the teacher’s lounge. Mr. Moreno here will have the rest of the pizzas done by the time you get back for a second load.”
The staffers nodded and carted off the completed pizzas.
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