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Date Posted: 15:43:32 04/13/02 Sat
Author: Raphaela
Author Host/IP: webcacheB07a.cache.pol.co.uk / 195.92.168.169
Subject: Re: The Robbery
In reply to: Mica 's message, "The Robbery" on 13:22:24 04/02/02 Tue

I really enjoyed this story - you have an interesting writing style, which certainly kept me gripped from the beginning to the end - and I loved the twist in the tale.

Raphaela

p.s. Hope to read more of your stories.


>Allison drummed her fingernails on the warped
>countertop and stared dismally at the chip shelf until
>her eyes crossed. She was insanely bored even though
>the General Store was unusually busy for a Sunday
>morning
> Mrs. Bard, who Allison had secretly christened Mrs.
>Lard, was hugging the left side of the store staring
>suspiciously at the three boys goofing around the
>magazine rack. Before they had moved out of her sight,
>Allison had been staring at them as well. She was
>trying to see their faces under the brims of the hats
>they wore pulled down over their faces. There was
>something vaguely familiar about them and she knew
>that if they’d take off their hats she’d recognize
>them as she did everyone else in Hicksboro, more
>commonly known as Hillsboro. She’d only lived here six
>months but the town was so small it had to have been
>inbred for generations.
> Mrs. Lard finally came to the counter and plunked her
>Ladies Home Journal down, interrupting Allison’s
>thoughts. “Good morning, dear,” she greeted.
> “How are you today, Mrs. Bard?” Allison asked
>politely and forced herself to inhale despite the
>overwhelming cloud of perfume surrounding the old
>woman.
> “Very well, very well,” Mrs. Lard kept her suspicious
>eyes on Allison as she rang up the magazine.
> “Will this be all for you today?” she asked, sliding
>it into a bag.
> “Yes, this is all.”
> All you’ll pay for. Allison thought, knowing full
>well the old battered purse hanging at the woman’s
>well padded hip was packed with candy bars and more
>than likely a questionable magazine or two. “But
>you’re looking so thin,” she said aloud, playing to
>the woman’s vanity. “Treat yourself to a Snickers,
>they’re your favorite.”
> “No, no,” Mrs. Lard tried to look pious, “I have high
>blood sugar you know.”
> “Have a nice day then,” Allison could practically
>taste the perfume now.
> “You too, dear.” Mrs. Lard waddle-walked to the door,
>snitching a 99 cent plastic figurine on her way out
>and sliding it into her bag.
> “Come back real soon now, ya hear.” Allison muttered
>sarcastically, turning her attention back to the three
>boys at the magazines. They also had watched Mrs. Lard
>go and were not turning their attention to her. Even
>facing them directly, Allison couldn’t make out who
>they were. It didn’t help that the hats were now
>pulled so low that all she could see were their noses
>and mouths. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
>she asked, clicking her nails again.
> “Almost,” said the one in a blue sweatshirt. The
>voice was vaguely familiar.
> Allison stopped clicking her nails as they reached
>the counter and narrowed her eyes.
> They stood there for a moment, the one to her right
>in a baggy yellow T-shirt was swallowing nervously,
>his Adams apple bobbing in his skinny.
> “Uh, ready?” the one in the middle with a red hat
>muttered.
> Allison watched in disbelief as blue sweatshirt and
>yellow shirt pulled out knives so small and puny the
>worst she figured they could do were file her nails.
>The one in the middle pulled out what could have been
>mistaken for a gun if she hadn’t recognized it as a
>prop from the school play last week.
> “Uh, give us the money,” red hat ordered, looking at
>his sidekicks for support.
> “Yeah,” yellow shirt swallowed nervously.
> “Make it quick,” the other gestured with the knife in
>what he must have thought was a threatening manner.
> “It won’t take long,” Allison wished the security
>camera was up but the school had borrowed it to film
>the play and hadn’t returned it yet. “What do you want
>me to put it in?”
> “Uh, what?”
> “Paper or plastic,” Allison enunciated slowly.
> “Paper,” Red hat said, glancing at his partners who
>shrugged.
> “Okay,” Allison unfolded the brown bag and opened the
>register. It only took her a few seconds to drop the
>money in and offer it back.
> Blue sweatshirt grabbed the bag. He looked in and
>frowned, “There are only fives and ones in here.”
> “Give us the big bills,” Red hat ordered. Yellow
>shirt was starting to look distinctly green and his
>Adams apple jerked up and down nervously.
> “There aren’t any big bills,” Allison said, “we start
>out with small bills in our registers, we only get
>tens and twenties when people pay with them.”
> “Uh oh,” blue sweatshirt said, sifting through the
>bills, “this can’t be more than a hundred.”
> “Less,” Allison hid a smirk. This was obviously a
>local job. Only a generation that was the product of
>severe inbreeding could botch a simple robbery so
>badly.
> “What are we gonna do?” Yellow shirt asked, his voice
>crackling with nerves.
> “You could always come back later,” she suggested
>laconically, drumming her nails on the counter.
> “Stop that, I can’t think.” Red hat snapped.
> “I don’t think that’s my fault.” Allison muttered,
>but stopped. She was curious to know what they would
>decide.
> “Well,” Red hat said after much deliberation. “It
>might not be much but it’s more than nothing so we’re
>going to take it and go.”
> Blue sweatshirt shoved the bills in his pockets and
>pushed the bag back across the table. “You’d better
>not say a word about this to anyone, understand?”
> To emphasize that point, red hat waved the gun
>threateningly, “All right?”
> “Yeah, sure.” Allison assured them. “Not a word.”
> They slunk out the door, grabbing matchbox cars as
>they went.
> “Come back real soon now, ya hear.” She muttered,
>watching them. As soon as they rounded the corner, she
>snatched the tens and twenties from her register and
>stuffed them in her purse before calling the police
>station.
> “Hello, Mr. Derby? This is Allison from the General
>Store. We’ve just been robbed.”
> When Allison hung up the phone she drummed her nails
>on the warped countertop and stared at the chip shelf
>while a smile spread across her face.

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