Mario pulled up the shutters sighing, as he had every day for 45 years. Mario’s Pizza was always open. Somehow, he persevered.

Turning the ‘Sorry! We’re Closed!’ sign to ‘Open!’ He shuffled to the counter and to the till, leaning heavily on the old machine. Feeling the rough edges digging into his time calloused palms, it felt reassuring.

A couple walked into the shop; bells jangled. Smiling benevolently, with clasped palms, Mario took their order.

As the pizza cooked Mario chatted amiably with them.

Waving them goodbye with a genial wave, Mario bade them farewell; to unknowingly eat their deadly pizza.

©DJA 2018


From the Compendium of One Hundred Word Stories