Pay for the delivery with Chelsea's clothes?

Soon enough, while Chelsea was audibly pissing in the bathroom, the doorbell rang.

Damn, I thought - I was hoping he'd wait until Chelsea was out so she'd have to get the pizza herself. I opened the door to the DoorDash driver.

"Here's your order, sir," he handed me the pizza, then held his hand out expecting a tip.

"About that," I slipped my shoes on and set the pizza down on the shelf, grabbing my keys, "I have something much better."

I guided him to my car, where I opened the doors to the hampers of all of Chelsea's clothes.

"Dude, I don't want all those old women's clothes!" the driver sighed in exasperation.