Cheese Pizza With Pepperoni, Please.

Warning: big rant at the end of the chapter from me...

Words 156

This is a really short story. But I couldn't stop thinking about writing it when I thought of it today lmao.

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"What would you like?" You asked with the best smile you could muster for the customer.

"Um..." the man with brown fluffy hair and chocolate eyes thought for a moment, rubbing the scruff forming at the bottom of his chin. "I would like a cheese pizza..." he requested, but he seemed to be thinking very hard about something so you waited for him to finish his thought. "with pepperoni on top."

"So, a pepperoni pizza?" You assumed.

"What?" He seemed shocked. "No! Disgusting!" He scrunched his nose.

"What you just ordered was a pepperoni pizza, sir..." you trailed off, rolling your eyes as you looked down at the counter. You had enough with customers today.

"No, I specifically ordered a cheese pizza with pepperoni on top." He insisted, lifting his chin in some sort of persistence.

"So, do you want pepperoni on the side?" You clarified. You weren't sure what he was saying. Why didn't he just say pepperoni?

"No! Listen to me. I want a cheese pizza with pepperoni on the top." He emphasized.

You sighed, "Okay..." you finally gave in, typing in a pepperoni pizza, because that's basically what he ordered.  "You can have a seat."

The man huffed out a breath. "It's about time."

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Rant:

So, I write music and play piano. My dad is like really proud of me and is supportive of me and is always trying to control my music because he says he can make it better and make it actually worth listening to...

Yeah, I know he means well but it kinda hurts my feelings. But that's not even it.

So, he says that it isn't going to get me anywhere if I just know how to play Twenty Øne Piløts, Billie Eilish, and AJR so he makes me learn his music, which only 40 year old men listen to.

Anyway, he literally gives me a chore of learning a song he chooses for me and if I don't learn it in a week I get my phone taken away, and a big long lecture about how lazy I am.

Aside from writing, Music is an escape for me. It's an escape from school and deadlines and chores. And it's really stressing me out having to learn one of his songs that I have never heard of at all. And it's basically making me hate playing music, because now it's a trigger to my anxiety. I really don't know what to do because now when I sit down at my piano he's like "play the song I wanted you to learn!"

And when I don't learn the song he wants, he yells at me calling me lazy and saying how I won't make it in life if I just play the few songs I play over and over. But that's the thing: I play more songs than he could ever imagine. I can play every single song on my playlist which is: 186 and counting.

Just because he doesn't know the song, he assumes I'm playing one song over and over again... and it's literally stressing me out so much. It's to the point that I have to wait until he leaves for work and then I'm so relieved when my fingers hit the keys. You have no idea.

But yeah, music is my escape. The one thing I can call mine. And he's taking it and making MY talent his own.

Also most of his songs have NO meaning whatsoever, which I despise. I don't want to learn his songs.

I told my grandma about this and she only agreed with my father. She said the greatest music artists out there can play any song they can think of; they can recreate it to be their own.

I can do that perfectly fine. Just let me learn the song I want to, because so far the only song I really wanted to do that he chose for me to do was

Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls and so far that's the only one that really showed my passion in music.

He doesn't realize that passion can't just be forced, it has to be wanted. The reason I showed passion in that song was because I wanted to learn it! And no one seems to understand that. No one seems to understand that I don't care if I'm a good artist or not, I just want to do what makes me happy.

Last little bit: my grandma even accused me of not liking music as much as I thought, because I told her I don't want to learn my father's songs. She blamed me for being wrong about how I feel about music because no good artist turns down a song no matter how good or bad it is. Well, I say that's B.S. because music is about doing what pleases you; listening to what you want and what you need to hear.

If learning songs that I don't want to learn, especially songs with no meaning, is being a good artist then I don't want to be one.

I'm stuck.