The pizza thief [Atmosphere/twist/tension]
This covers characters making a big decision/ changing direction in life/ builds good character/ couple of twists.
He always looked for the perfect establishment. A bright and airy place with smiling staff and a seat near the door. It had been a long Winter. He had covered two whole burroughs of New York without going into the same place twice. Even when it was fourteen below in January he had been out. It was terribly cold but he had to go out.
And now it was April and there was warmth and sunshine and the parks were getting busy. Alfred loved it. Not his daily chore but the time of year. Spring gave him hope that something would happen. He was thinking this as he stepped into tonight's Pizzeria of choice, The Pizza Pie Palace on Jefferson Avenue. He didn't like the name but the place was warm and inviting and crowded. Busy was good. He stepped in, hunkered up on a stool beside the door and read the menu.
A waitress soon came over as Alfred wore a sharp suit and carried an expensive looking briefcase. His shiny leather shoes helped too. A businessman was sure to give a good tip. Alfred smiled a winning smile and ordered a large Margarita pizza with a glass of wine. The waitress was terribly friendly. He sipped his wine as he waited for the pizza and the red liquid soothed his throat after a long day of breathing in pollution. He felt revived. He needed a little more energy because his day wasn't over. On the stool beside him he unclasped his briefcase but left the lid closed.
In no time at all the waitress was back with the enormous pizza. She smiled and made small talk.
"All that pizza just for you? Golly, I don't know where you put it!" Her name tag said 'BECKY'.
"Becky?", Alfred asked," Would you be so good as to fetch me another glass of wine? This is delicious."
"Why sure! Coming right up!" And she was gone to the kitchen.
Alfred took the pizza, folded it in half, placed it in his briefcase amongst a newspaper and closed the clasps.
He was gone two blocks before he slowed. Eight more blocks home. Banks of yellow taxis passed him in the rush hour. He reached home thirty minutes later. Three keys to get into the old apartment block on Lincoln street. The lift did not work so he dragged himself up the four flights of stairs to the apartment he shared with his mother.
"Is that you Alfred?" she shouted from the only bedroom.
"Yes mother! I'll just get your dinner ready!"
She was watching one of her television soaps. Alfred placed his spit-shone shoes under the sofa that doubled as his bed. Then he carefully removed the pizza and placed it on two plates. He brought both into the bedroom and handed his mother half. He apologised about being a poor provider and she told him she'd be lost without him. He lied about share prices and stocks. He lied every day without fail. How could she know that welfare paid the rent or that her son left every morning for a job that wasn't there and walked the streets until evening time, when he stole pizza for her? Sometimes lying is the right thing to do.
Question A- 50 marks
[1] From your reading of the Pizza Thief, what impression do you get of the thief? Support your answer with reference to the text. [15]
[2]Do you think 'The Pizza Thief' is a good title for this story? Give reasons for your answer. [15]
[3] The thief will do anything to keep up appearances. Would you encourage people to do the same? Give reasons for your answer. [10]
{4} If you found yourself in the same situation, what do you think you would do? [10]
He always looked for the perfect establishment. A bright and airy place with smiling staff and a seat near the door. It had been a long Winter. He had covered two whole burroughs of New York without going into the same place twice. Even when it was fourteen below in January he had been out. It was terribly cold but he had to go out.
And now it was April and there was warmth and sunshine and the parks were getting busy. Alfred loved it. Not his daily chore but the time of year. Spring gave him hope that something would happen. He was thinking this as he stepped into tonight's Pizzeria of choice, The Pizza Pie Palace on Jefferson Avenue. He didn't like the name but the place was warm and inviting and crowded. Busy was good. He stepped in, hunkered up on a stool beside the door and read the menu.
A waitress soon came over as Alfred wore a sharp suit and carried an expensive looking briefcase. His shiny leather shoes helped too. A businessman was sure to give a good tip. Alfred smiled a winning smile and ordered a large Margarita pizza with a glass of wine. The waitress was terribly friendly. He sipped his wine as he waited for the pizza and the red liquid soothed his throat after a long day of breathing in pollution. He felt revived. He needed a little more energy because his day wasn't over. On the stool beside him he unclasped his briefcase but left the lid closed.
In no time at all the waitress was back with the enormous pizza. She smiled and made small talk.
"All that pizza just for you? Golly, I don't know where you put it!" Her name tag said 'BECKY'.
"Becky?", Alfred asked," Would you be so good as to fetch me another glass of wine? This is delicious."
"Why sure! Coming right up!" And she was gone to the kitchen.
Alfred took the pizza, folded it in half, placed it in his briefcase amongst a newspaper and closed the clasps.
He was gone two blocks before he slowed. Eight more blocks home. Banks of yellow taxis passed him in the rush hour. He reached home thirty minutes later. Three keys to get into the old apartment block on Lincoln street. The lift did not work so he dragged himself up the four flights of stairs to the apartment he shared with his mother.
"Is that you Alfred?" she shouted from the only bedroom.
"Yes mother! I'll just get your dinner ready!"
She was watching one of her television soaps. Alfred placed his spit-shone shoes under the sofa that doubled as his bed. Then he carefully removed the pizza and placed it on two plates. He brought both into the bedroom and handed his mother half. He apologised about being a poor provider and she told him she'd be lost without him. He lied about share prices and stocks. He lied every day without fail. How could she know that welfare paid the rent or that her son left every morning for a job that wasn't there and walked the streets until evening time, when he stole pizza for her? Sometimes lying is the right thing to do.
Question A- 50 marks
[1] From your reading of the Pizza Thief, what impression do you get of the thief? Support your answer with reference to the text. [15]
[2]Do you think 'The Pizza Thief' is a good title for this story? Give reasons for your answer. [15]
[3] The thief will do anything to keep up appearances. Would you encourage people to do the same? Give reasons for your answer. [10]
{4} If you found yourself in the same situation, what do you think you would do? [10]
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