“Gimme all your money.”
The man said it so quietly, even as he laid the gun on the counter, his finger on the trigger, and looked across it at the girl behind it. The girl stared at him, then the gun, then back at him.
“I can’t open the safe,” she said, her voice quiet and squeaky with fear. The man picked up the gun, its butt still on the counter.
“I ain’t got all night,” the guy said again, glancing around. Only one other person was in the store, a big guy in a leather biker vest, looking through the beers on the other side of the room.
“But I can’t open the safe,” the girl said, now her voice cracking. Her eyes welled up with tears.
“Open the fuckin’ register, an’ gimme that,” he snarled, but gun wavering.
The girl looked out at the store, as if looking for help, and then pressed the void button on the cash register. The drawer popped open with a “ding” that filled the air.
She concentrated on pulling out the dollar bills, when suddenly she heard a loud CRACK right in front of her. She stopped, saw the man holding the gun suddenly topple over, dragging the gun across the counter, with him onto the floor.
Behind the man was the big man who had been looking at beer, standing there with a broken broom handle. “Don’ make shit like they useta,” he said, leaning down and picking up the man by the front of his shirt. He picked him up as if he was nothing, and dragged him to the door. The door slid open, and he threw the man out onto the pavement.
“Mind if I have a few beers and a steak sandwich?” the man asked the girl behind the counter.
“Take it, take it!” The girl wiped tears of relief from her face.
The man bent down and picked up the gun, tucking it in his vest pocket. “Much obliged,” he said, and grabbed a six pack of Heinekin and a microwaved steak sub. “Gimme ten minutes, then call the cops.”
“Sure, sure!” she cried.
She gave him a lot more than ten minutes.
(Something short and sweet for my new character, Knight, and his adventures on the road with his bike, Kitty.)