Wild Dog
Banned
Today, I faced failure, death, and guilt.
It began when I drove to my local bank. I had several dollars worth of quarters and wanted to trade them in for paper money. As I stepped in, I say two men with guns force the customers on the floor and yell at the tellers to empty out the drawers. I felt the sheep dog in my take over and, dropping the quarters, I lit a cigarette. There was only two scum bags, no problem I thought.
"A beautiful day for a withdraw," I said, taking a long drag "Isn't it."
The two robbers turned to face me. I could tell they were momentarily intimidated by my lack of fear.
"You," said one of them "Get down on the ground."
I took another drag of my cigarette as I mulled my enemies words over in my head.
"You know," I replied "I'm going to have to ask you gentlemen to leave the bank."
"What is this, a joke?"
"You got that right," I said "It is a joke. And guess what, here's the punchline."
I pulled my weapon, two quick shots and two dead scum bags fell to the ground...dead.
I thought it was over, but a little voice inside my head told me to turn around. As I spun around, 180, I saw a third man I didn't even realize was there. Like a homicidal Oscar the Grouch, he popped out of the trash bin with an AK-47 and opened fire. Despite my preternatural reflexes, I knew there was no way I could bring my weapon onto target. As I knew death and Valhalla soon awaited me, a customer jumped in front of me and protected my body from the deadly fusillade with his own. I dragged him behind the customer counter as full automatic fire rained death around us. As he laid bleeding and dying, the customer reached up for to me.
"G-g-get that mother ******," he said before dying.
Enraged, I sprung to my feet and emptied my pistol into the shooters direction. He dropped his weapon and sputtered blood as I ventilated his torso. Dying and in pain he looked up at me.
"Finish it," he said.
"No," I replied "Just lay there and bleed."
And I walked out of the bank, my duster coat flapping in the breeze.
The cops soon arrived on scene. They called me a hero and wanted to give me a medal. But I can't help but feel a little guilty over the death of the customer, and am thinking of hanging it up. What do you all think?
It began when I drove to my local bank. I had several dollars worth of quarters and wanted to trade them in for paper money. As I stepped in, I say two men with guns force the customers on the floor and yell at the tellers to empty out the drawers. I felt the sheep dog in my take over and, dropping the quarters, I lit a cigarette. There was only two scum bags, no problem I thought.
"A beautiful day for a withdraw," I said, taking a long drag "Isn't it."
The two robbers turned to face me. I could tell they were momentarily intimidated by my lack of fear.
"You," said one of them "Get down on the ground."
I took another drag of my cigarette as I mulled my enemies words over in my head.
"You know," I replied "I'm going to have to ask you gentlemen to leave the bank."
"What is this, a joke?"
"You got that right," I said "It is a joke. And guess what, here's the punchline."
I pulled my weapon, two quick shots and two dead scum bags fell to the ground...dead.
I thought it was over, but a little voice inside my head told me to turn around. As I spun around, 180, I saw a third man I didn't even realize was there. Like a homicidal Oscar the Grouch, he popped out of the trash bin with an AK-47 and opened fire. Despite my preternatural reflexes, I knew there was no way I could bring my weapon onto target. As I knew death and Valhalla soon awaited me, a customer jumped in front of me and protected my body from the deadly fusillade with his own. I dragged him behind the customer counter as full automatic fire rained death around us. As he laid bleeding and dying, the customer reached up for to me.
"G-g-get that mother ******," he said before dying.
Enraged, I sprung to my feet and emptied my pistol into the shooters direction. He dropped his weapon and sputtered blood as I ventilated his torso. Dying and in pain he looked up at me.
"Finish it," he said.
"No," I replied "Just lay there and bleed."
And I walked out of the bank, my duster coat flapping in the breeze.
The cops soon arrived on scene. They called me a hero and wanted to give me a medal. But I can't help but feel a little guilty over the death of the customer, and am thinking of hanging it up. What do you all think?
