This circumstance for Rock was nearly as good as he any he had experienced, and certainly far beyond what he commonly expected. He had just eaten at a pricey, renowned Italian restaurant in Indianapolis with several Little Rock Hash House Harriers and two former girlfriends, Kelly and Jenny.
They were headed to an Indianapolis Colts game and everyone was in high spirits. Rock was the first to walk out. As he did, he held the door open for a man and his party of three or four others so they could enter.
"Welcome to Luigi's," said Rock in the tone of an eager maitre d'. "I would advise you to skip the special. It sucks."
The man laughed. "So, don't get the tortellini."
"No, they're wasting their time on it. It's keeping them away from the pizzas."
The group stopped and looked at Rock, clearly amused. "I don't believe pizza is on their menu," the man said, smiling.
Rock tilted his head back. "Sir, numerous college students work here. I can assure you there is a heavy wooden roller and a bag of pot in the kitchen. Trust me, they can make you a pizza."
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