Bazooka 2

“Where were we?” Buck asked.

“The beautiful lady,” I said.

“Ah,” He indicated simply, jotting down another note (he’d started writing shortly after I’d begun my narrative).

“So I was in the diner and she walked in,” I continued. “I said she is the most beautiful woman in the world, and she is. No doubt, damn near perfection.”

Wearing a short yellow dress and knee high boots, she dressed like she knew it too. Most, out of personal preference and opinion, would describe her as drop-dead gorgeous. In that moment I would have described her as leaning more towards striking; I must be honest, the massive gun slung over her shoulder swayed me. Semi-automatic, I guess. Aside from the waitress and old man near me there were all of five other people in the diner, and when she walked in all eyes gravitated to her.

She strolled with precision, casting her sight steadily around the room until her gaze fell to me. She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes might have narrowed just an inch. I glanced around, confused and a little nervous as to why this woman fixated on such a lowly person.

Next to me, Santa chuckled and prodded with his elbow. “Another one…” I think he whispered. 

Quicker then lightning the woman reached back and grabbed her gun. “Uh…” I had time to get out before the first bullets flew. She hit the cash-register; the drawer exploded, sending dollar bills flying. The prospect she might be some sort of modern Robin Hood crossed my mind, and I thought that was kinda cool. Then she pointed the barrel at me. I thought, like an idiot, “Why would you shoot me? I’m not full of money.” She pulled the trigger.

I’d like to say my inner superhero reviled itself and I pulled off a daring escapade in which I dodged the bullets, disarmed the perpetrator, and won the heart of the youthful waitress in the process – truthfully the waitress wasn’t youthful, but then again neither am I – thus setting myself up quite nicely for the rest of my life as the town mascot.

What actually happened was far less graceful. I slid off my stool and fell face first to the ground. She shot, and continued to shoot; oblivious she was missing her target. The sound was deafening. I army crawled my way around the counter to find the only two friends I had in the world already there. The waitress and Santa hugged each other with their eyes squeezed shut tightly. 

Everything went quite. Santa opened one eye, then two. He looked at me and motioned. I shook my head. He motioned again, hugging close the waitress for emphasis. Balling my hands into fists I poked my head above the counter and there she was, this time with a rocket launcher. That stupid “Uh…” escaped my lips again. Where had that come from?

The woman heard me. Looking up, her hair fell away from her face in slow motion as she kneeled and hoisted her weapon. I looked back at Santa and the waitress.

Fire and pieces of everything exploded around me. She completely blew out the back of the small diner. Horror struck, I observed a pudgy youth on a tricycle across the street. Frozen in awe at the sudden excitement his chocolate cone dripped down his hand and onto the cement. I saw my opportunity and took it; clambering over the broken bricks down to the sidewalk.

The first words I heard her speak: a cry for me to cease and desist. The boy, jumping back to reality, put feet to peddle and booked it out of sight. I made like him and ran.      


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