It was dusk and the vehicle, if that’s what you’d call it, was sitting outside our house. It was a short, squat box-like thing with a splashy paint job and some logo I couldn’t make out. Then again I was behind the couch peering out through a half-inch wide slit in the drapes.
I glanced up and down the street to see if there was any interest in it. None. A couple of kids had been by ten minutes ago and made a fuss over it, but no one since then. I went across the hall to the dining room to take a look at it from another angle. As soon as I did, the thing backed up slowly, like it was tracking me.
I turned off all the lights downstairs and went back to the living room and peered out again from my post behind the couch. The damn thing rolled slowly forward a few feet to its previous location.
Son of a …, I thought, it could see me. And it was following me.
I was growing more than a little nervous now. Who was in the thing? And what did they want?
I heard Butch shuffle into the room. I blinked a few times and could make out his form as he wandered around then sat down on the carpet. He seemed to be watching me, probably more curious than concerned. Or maybe looking for an after-dinner snack. After a moment, he went about the important business of scratching himself behind his ear.
I glanced back out to the street. It was darker now. Still no sign of life around the vehicle. A voice startled me.
“Why are all the lights off in the…”
It was Terri. How the hell did she come into the room without me hearing? I must be slipping.
The lights came on in blaze and there I was behind the couch, peering out the window.
“Ah, honey, are you okay?” she asked, in a tone indicating she believed I was anything but okay.
Butch sat up in anticipation of the explanation for my behavior.
“There’s a car thing, a wheeled vehicle parked outside,” I whispered.
Terri nodded as if it were best not to make any sudden moves or gestures, or engage in sharp language with me.
“I see,” she said. “Those car things, and wheeled vehicles, they’re allowed on the street. That’s where we want them to be. So, it’s okay that they’re out there.”
She studied me with the look of someone trying to figure out how they missed the warning signs of a breakdown.
I glanced back out the window. It was still there.
“I think someone’s casing the place,” I said, again in a whisper.
“And I guess they’ve bugged the place too,” she said. “So I should speak in hushed tones also.”
Terri stepped toward me to take a look, or possibly sedate me.
“Don’t let them see you,” I said.
She nodded. “Okay, sure thing. Why don’t you take the point over here, and I’ll go down there to the other end of the window to get a look,” she said, mockingly.
“I’m serious,” I said.
“That’s what worries me,” Terri said.
She pulled back the drapes and yelled.
“Oh, my goodness. It’s Mike’s. I was wondering when it was going to get here.”
“You know about…Mike’s? What’s Mike’s?” I stammered.
“The new pizza place. The have a robot car to deliver their pizzas,” she said. “I was wondering when it was going to get here. They’re supposed to send me a text.”
Terri was giddy with anticipation. “This should be so much fun! We just punch a PIN in and the door opens so we can grab our pizza.”
We hustled outside and I have to admit to still being suspicious of this self-driving pizza robot car. We got to the side of the thing and Terri scrolled through her phone.
“Here, why don’t you punch the code in,” she said “Just so you’ll know that there are no bad guys inside it casing the house.”
“Very funny.”
“Well, you never know. And if there are, who better to disarm them than you?”
I glanced at the front door of the house where Butch stood staring at us. Our dog was going to be little to no use in fending off a robotic car full of invaders.
Terri recited the PIN and I used the little touch screen on the side of the car. I hit “Enter” and we stood back waiting for the big moment when the gull-wing doors would lift and give us access to our hot steaming pizza. Or maybe warm, soggy pizza at this point.
But nothing. No movement at all. Just a loud “wah-wah” sound came through the vehicle’s speakers, like I had lost a game at the arcade.
“That’s odd,” Terri said. “Try it again.”
I went to touch the screen again but the car rolled forward a few feet. I moved up and as I reached for the screen, the vehicle moved back again.
“It’s like it doesn’t want you entering the PIN,” Terri said.
“I’m sure there is someone in there,” I said, crossing around to the driver’s side. I banged on the window and yelled. “Let’s go, open up. Now. Give me the damn pizza.”
That got me another “wah-wah.”
The kids came out of the house now, drawn by the spectacle of a parent losing his mind.
“Why is dad assaulting the pizza delivery car?” our daughter asked, arriving at Terri’s side.
“He’s pretty sure there may be bad guys, possibly spies inside,” Terri said.
“No doubt Putin and another arms buildup using robot pizza cars,” our daughter said.
I reached for the door handle this time but the thing backed up a few feet. I moved with it, then it stopped abruptly and rolled forward.
“Let’s go,” I yelled, kicking the tire. “Out. Now. I know you’re in there.”
I leaned forward to look in the windshield and the vehicle edged forward nicking my foot.
“Ow, ow,” I said, hopping around.
Again a “wah-wah.”
“Think this is funny? Who sent you?” I yelled.
“Probably Mike’s,” Terri said from the other side, as the door lifted. She reached inside and took out a pizza.
“Be sure to tip the driver, honey,” she said turning to go up the walk.
“In rubles,” my daughter said, leaving with her.