I'll take two Garth Brooks tickets with that pizza, PLEASE

So this story about the Irish lady who ordered cold medicine, along with a pepperoni pizza from a Belfast Fish and Chips shop and, amazingly, got them to deliver her entire order, really got me thinking.



Not so much about the obvious observations:

A. Those Irish restaurant owners and delivery drivers must be super nice to actually agree to bring Fiona Cuffe her Benelyn Cold and Flu tablets from the drug store.

B. Since when do fish joints serve pizza, anyway?

Nope, you know my mo’, faithful readers. Got to go deep. I started pondering, in reverse order of cosmic significance:

1. She says in her online order: “…only ordering food so I can get the tablets. I’m dying sick xx.” She insulted their food…and they still brought her the darn meds! Must have been the kisses.

2. If I thought I was about to croak, and I truly believed my pizza deliverers would bring me anything I asked for in honor of my dying wish, I’d start with Super Bowl tickets, or maybe two front-row seats to the Garth Brooks concert coming up in Memphis.

3. OK I get it, we’re talking about items a delivery driver could reasonably stop and pick up on her way with the pizza. Stuff like razors and deodorant and toothpaste and ear swabs. If you’re like me, you’re always running out of toilet paper just when you need it most.

4. TMI? A rare blizzard (actually thin dusting) is panicking peeps here in Mississippi. Instead of me overcrowding the local Dollar General to stampede levels, the super nice pizza driver could bring me my bread and milk and keep my face off TV.

5. Overkill? Batteries are practical. They can mean the difference between life and death when you lose the electrical cord on your radio boombox.

6. OK, we’ve already stipulated these are really, really nice pizzeria owners and delivery drivers so I’m doubling down. In this utopian existence, they would surely do their best to make my final hours on Earth special. I’d ask for some 6-inch Angus fillets, king crab legs and a turtle sundae to top off my pepperoni pizza.

7. It’s true, I’ve got a nervous stomach. I know I’d be too rattled to eat one of those rich final meals if I was only a couple hours from taking my last walk to the lethal injection room before getting strapped in. Please, Fish and Chips Pizza Man, bring me a puppy, instead, (with big feet, not a snippy little yippy dog) to pet and cuddle before the lights go out.

8. Forgot about the lease. I’m a simple man with simple needs, in touch with my Emily Dickenson side. Just deliver some brilliant Red, White and Yellow roses in a deep crystal vase (long A) with an oversized card signed by my girlfriend that reads: “You deserve to experience all the beauty in the world. Here is just a glimpse of what reflects back to me when I look in your eyes.”

9. I know what you’re thinking, dear reader. “You’re frickin’ dying already. Why isn’t Miss Wonderful there to hold your hand while you give it up?"  Or maybe: “Did he really write that part about the reflecting beauty, or was it some Hallmark nerd?”

10. All mine and, no, my girlfriend hasn’t ditched me! She’s just super, super, really, really busy at work. And that’s why we don’t have time to go see Garth Brooks. The heck with it, we’re talking theoretical scenario, folks. My for-real questions are simply: Does Fiona look more like the ogre in the movie, or Cameron Diaz? And, did she even pony up a tip?