Daisy looked from the short guy to the gun, then back to him. She thought she might want to yawn just to show him what she thought about his threat, but then decided that a yawn might be a bit too much. Instead, she acquiesced and opened the register drawer.

“You realize that there’s only about a hundred dollars in here,” she said. “Big score.”

“You realize that I don’t give a shit?” He said in return.

Then, the short guy glanced over at his partner. He actually did a double take when he realized that his tall companion still had both hands in his coat pockets. Daisy watched as his face clouded in anger.

“What the fuck're you doing?” The short guy asked him. “Pull out your gun.”

The tall guy blushed, but did as he was told. He too had a revolver. But rather than point it at Daisy, he let it hang at his side.

The short guy turned back to Daisy. While she had opened the register drawer, she had yet to take out any money.

“Well?” the short guy said, waving his gun. “Money!”

It took her less than thirty seconds to empty the drawer. There was nothing in there but a small stack of ones, an even smaller stack of fives, and a couple of twenties along with change.

“Doesn’t seem worth the risk if you ask me,” said Daisy as placed the money in a plastic shopping bag.

“How do you know there’s only a hundred in there,” the short guy said and took the bag.

“Because my manager emptied my register over an hour ago, and no one’s paid in cash since,” she said.


First, she sighed. Then: “So, we only keep a hundred in the drawers. The managers empty them regularly to keep the cash low so that some asshole won’t be tempted to rob us.”

“Okay,” the short guy said. “Then you get your manager to bring that cash back.”

“Nope,” said Daisy.

“No?” The short guy waved the gun in her face.

“The manager takes that money and drops it into the vault,” Daisy said. “Once he does that, no one here can access it. The money is unreachable. It might as well be at the bank.”

The short guy took that in. He screwed up his eyes as he thought this new information over. The tall guy, on the other hand, was too busy keeping the sweat out of his eyes to notice much of anything.

“What about the other registers?” Said the short guy.

“Other registers?” Daisy replied in a lugubrious sort of way.

“Yeah, you have other registers in the store,” he gestured to Register Two at the other end of the counter. “They got registers back in the pharmacy too.”

“You want to take this show back to the pharmacy, be my guest. But do me a favor first,” she leaned forward. “Take that fucking gun out of my face.”

Then suddenly the old man was there. The same old man who had shuffled off to the pharmacy thirty minutes ago looking near death. Daisy hadn’t noticed his approach. He’d come up Aisle Three which opened up near the register, but was out of Daisy’s line of sight.

Before the two gunmen were able to register his presence, the old man was on top of the short guy. He’d just shuffled right up to him, and with an inhuman growl, the old man wrapped his arms around the guy, and they both went down.

Daisy leaned over the counter and watched, stunned into immobility, as the two wrestled around on the floor. And despite the obvious frailty of the old man, he was getting the best of his opponent.

The short guy screamed. Daisy had never heard such a sound before. It was all pain and fear. That’s when she noticed the blood.

The old man was biting him.

To be continued . . .

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