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| - T'was in the moon of wintertime...
It was the Great Ice Storm of 2013.
The power had been off for days; the fridge was bare, and I had braved ice-slicked streets to protect my new home.
I was alone, having sent my spouse to my in-laws', where she could be warm for the night. I was determined to defend my homestead from sleet and snow, wandering bands of marauders and zombie hordes.
OK, maybe I was just checking the place out before heading North myself. I ran the taps, checked the windows, and helped Santa get the presents ready for my beloved's return.
Just as I was about to head out, a Festivus Miracle!
With my hand on the doornkob, turning to let me out into the blackest night, I heard the alarm go BEEEEP and saw a flash of light.
Power had returned!
What better way to celebrate than with a hot shower, and a pizza?
I didn't know who to call, but figured that friends on Marlee had been unscathed, so there was a chance Paul might deliver.
And deliver he did. A small pie, loaded with quality toppings, slightly charred and still mouth-searing hot. It was the kind of old school pizza you'd think had died out.
It was delicious.
The only downside was that, for a relatively small order it was expensive. My pie cost about $10, to which they added an absurd delivery charge of $4-nearly half the cost of my pizza.
I was starving, and elated so I didn't mind.
I'd order from Paul's again in a heartbeat; I would just make sure I was having friends over (or a working freezer), to make sure I got my money's worth.
All that said, I am still grateful that in a frozen wasteland, Paul delivered.
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