atara called in the order to our usual place (we don't order pizza very often, but when we do it's from the place around the corner) and I drove over to pick it up. Everything followed a usual process flow until I had paid for the pizza and was preparing to leave.
"Did we give you one of our calendars yet?" enthused the young man behind the counter.
"No, you did not," I replied, to which he reached under the counter and produced a calendar of American muscle cars. The last page was about 3cm longer than the others so that they could put the name of the pizza store and their contact information on it along the bottom. I am not really big on American muscle cars, but I know a few people who are so I thanked him for the calendar while I mulled over who I could give it to. Apparently he wasn't done. He hesitated for a moment and said, "Did you want the car calendar, or the real calendar?"
I envisioned a calendar with pictures of pizzas and scenes from Italy or something along those lines, maybe with a bonus picture of the entire pizzeria staff posing in front of their pizza oven on the front.
"Sure, I'd like one of the real ones," I said. He grinned broadly, reached under the counter and produced another calendar in the same format as the first, but instead of American muscle cars, it was American swimsuit models.
"Here you go," he said, putting it on top of the other calendar. It was then that I think he remembered that it was not me, but my wife who had called in the pizza order. "Oh, I hope this doesn't get you into any trouble at home!" For a second I thought he was going to take it back, but he quickly said, "Well if it causes any trouble, I don't know you, and you don't know me, and you didn't get this calendar here. Have a good night."
As I was picking up my pizza box and calendars, I glanced again at the name and phone number of his restaurant featured boldly at the bottom of both calendars.
Right... I'm sure nobody will know where I got this calendar