It was late at night…when I saw the door swing open, abruptly, and the fractious man ran in. I shrieked as he pointed the gun at me. I timorously hid behind the counter. “Give me the money now!” he said.

I’ve seen heists like this on TV before. The will for a utopia engulfed the robber’s fear of a jail sentence. Being captured was only an anathema to him. With a creepy flamboyant voice he shouted, “Give me all the money or I’ll shoot your brains out!”
That got my attention and I started to shovel the money out of the register. I looked to my supervisor for any hope of taking action against the thief but his mind was truncated from his body. Panic quickly went across the bandits face. The police will get here soon I thought. The crooks attention was drawn quickly to the doors as people ran out in fear. This was my chance. I grabbed the Spas 12 gauge shotgun conveniently placed below the counter for times like these. Jauntily holding it in my hands the tables have turned. Without him noticing, I loaded the first shell into the chamber and fired. He dropped cold. The steel balls caused a schism in his spine. I expunged the spent shell from the gun and wiped the blood off my suit coat. I had to remain looking ostentatious.

The cops arrived a few minutes after to investigate the scene to find a splintered body on the floor and the money missing. Who was the real thief? Dun dun dun….