BY BRIAN SACCA ART BY JONNY DESTEFANO “Will you FIGHT?!” “Yes, Sensei!” “Will you DIE?!” “Yes, Sensei!” “Will you stop the invaders from spoiling our …” fluids on the ‘zas, or you’re shitcanned!” This conversation swirled through the dregs of Brayden’s mind as He kept speaking, but it was like he was orating on autopilot; his mind questioning everything around him. How did it come to this? How was he “Master Sensei Brayden?” When did he get loyal subjects or this life on a private island? Of course, he knew the answers, but it all felt so surreal because, only two years ago, Master Sensei Brayden was just … Brayden Jennings. That is until he stumbled upon his path to greatness. Barred from driving for any of the delivery apps due to a half-dozen poorly timed tearful outbursts (Brayden was a sensitive boy turned sensitive 27-year-old living in the basement of his local YMCA), Brayden resorted to taking the overnight shifts at the local Pizzapie Pizza franchise. “Pizzapie 24/7” was their current promotion – pizza, any day, any time. But nobody ordered pizza at 5:30 in the morning. This meant that Brayden spent his hours watching various social media videos. He’d even considered posting a video himself. But he had nothing to say. An unusually slow Tuesday night took an ominous turn when Mr. Rutherford (the overnight manager) sat Brayden down for a chat. “When I hired you, what was the one thing I said you can’t do?” Mr. Rutherford scowled from across his desk crammed with discarded pizza crusts oozing mozzarella (Mr. Rutherford wasn’t a stuffed crust kinda guy). “Uh, you told me I couldn’t steal,” Brayden responded. “But I also told you that you couldn’t spazz out, didn’t I?” “I’m not spazzing. I’m — it’s just, people are so mean, so I’m sorry if I cry a little when I get stiffed.” “You dripped snot bubbles onto that three large/extra pep/no sauce delivery. I had to comp the whole order. Stop leaking he sat in his ’98 Saturn outside of a four-large, double-cheese, meatlovers delivery. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself before the drop. But he wouldn’t be dropping ‘zas tonight. It was a prank delivery. An empty house. He howled in emotional pain, loud enough for a neighbor to be woken and call a complaint into Pizzapie Pizza. Brayden plopped into his ’98 Saturn and decided right then and there that this world wasn’t meant for him. He started a live stream and shouted at the camera through tears, “I’m done with the shittery. I’m done with the lack of respect. I’ll see all of you on the other side.” Brayden then took the nearest tool and commenced his disposal. But nothing happened. Brayden screamed in frustration, “Why is it called a SLICE if it can’t cut?!!” Brayden kept rubbing the oily pizza against his wrist; each pass adding more loose sausage into his lap. Brayden didn’t know it, but at that moment, he was becoming the most famous man in the world. Within hours, the video “Man Tries to Kill Himself with Pizza Slice” went worldwide. His sensitive soul now a commodity for human entertainment. To any other man on the brink of despair, this might’ve propelled them into deeper darkness. But for Brayden, it actually showed him the No. 120
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