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In fact, he had suggested that everyone learn to cook. Dan wasn’t too thrilled with that idea.With the additional help around the pizzeria, he was also able to run business errands during the day. He met with his CPA to work out the taxes on his business. Since he had selected to have his end of year coincide with when he had started his business, his tax year was going to end soon. It amazed him that he was already showing a profit for his first year in business.Dan was taking two nights, one morning, and all of Sunday off, every week. He was now working sixty hours a week rather than ninety-one. He felt a lot better than he had in a long time. Sundays were his favorite day of the week. He basically lounged around the pool, fooling around with little things around the house.A noise that sounded like someone falling at in the dining front of the room attracted his attention. He looked up and saw Ernie dancing around like someone had dropped a piece of hot coal down his pants. When. I was faced with a narrow dingy hallway with two doors and worn stone stairs going up. At the top was a landing with two doors and more stairs going up. The doors were closed but one of them had a grimy plate with the words 'DC Productions' engraved on it in curly letters so I assumed this was the one.The door wasn't locked. I stepped in to a small reception area much in need of a coat of paint. There was a threadbare carpet on the floor that might, once have been green, and a desk and chair that looked like they'd been rescued from a skip with a battered computer on top. It was empty.As I wondered if I should try the only other door, it opened and a man came out. He was about my age with long, greasy hair tied in a pony-tail with a leather band. To say his face looked 'lived in' would have been kind. He was more than a little overweight and was wearing a well-worn t-shirt with 'AC/DC Tour 1999' printed on it, black jeans that were too long and black Doc Martins."You Pete?" he asked,.
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