Knocking the two Greeks aside, you exit the locker.

    You are in the back room of the Sharon House of Pizza.

    The two Greeks come out of the meat locker to grab you, but you evade their grasp, running forward down a short hallway, through a kitchen area, and finally out to the main restaurant area.

    Customers begin to stare at the moist and butt-nekked man in their presence.

    "They..." you pant.  "They were gonna eat me!"

    You point to the workers behind the counter who do not acknowledge your presence at all.

    "They had me in their meat locker, and they were gonna eat me!" you shout.

    The customers stare at you strangely, but the staff ignores you.  The two Greek men that tried to grab you do not enter the main restaurant area.

    "You... you think I'm crazy!" you shout at them.

    They do, and they follow the staff's lead and begin to ignore you.

    Frustrated, you exit the store and head across the street to Christy's.

    Back inside the restaurant, one of the workers behind the counter casually reaches up and takes the word "Brad" off the list of available toppings.

    Inside the safety of Christy's, you immediately blurt out your story to Buddy behind the counter:

    "Buddy, I was put in a meat locker by some crazy Greeks, and--"

    "Woah, woah, woah, Brad," interrupts Buddy.  "You know the poilcy:  No shirt, no pants, no service."

    "Hunh?  Oh," you say.

    "Gonna have to ask you to leave, my friend," says Buddy.

    "Uh, right, um, sorry," you say and exit the store.

    You walk back home and enter the basement.

    Scrounging around, you find a greasy old T-shirt that you could maybe put on and go back to Christy's, but you decide it's not worth it.

    Still a little nippy from being trapped in the meat-locker, you grab a ratty old blanket and crawl into your favorite spot, curl up, and drift off to sleep.