Since I’m on a food theme, I’ll continue with it.

Last night, we ordered pizza from Glass Nickel. Eileen called it in; when they asked for a name, she said, “It will be Tim,” cuz I’m always the one who goes to pick it up.

So I went there and said, “I’m here to pick up some pizzas for Tim.”

The cashier touched the computer screen a few times and looked confused. “Who’s it for?”

“Tim?” I said, hoping that my inquisitive tone would also connote what I was thinking: Is there a problem?

“Um. . . I’ve got a Teresa, a Bob, and a Bible?”

“Bible?!”

She laughed. I laughed. She went over to another guy and brought him back to the cashier. He had long, straight, black hair, and he was wearing a tennis-player-style head band pulled over his hair like Richie Tenenbaum. He looked stoned.

“Did you take this order?” she said.

I only heard him say, “uh.”

She turned the screen toward me. “Are you sure you’re not Bob?” she asked.

I laughed.

“What did you order?”

“Um, a deluxe and a fetalicious.”

She touched the screen a few times. “Was it a deluxe with no cheese?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Well then, this has got to be you.”

“Yeah. Not a common combination to have a cheeseless pizza and a fetalicious in the same order, eh?”

She smiled. “Looks like you were Teresa.”

“Really?” I said. “I was hoping I’d be Bible.”