Short Stories
Close Call
Donovan shifted the gun from one hand to the other, feeling its weight. His Dad had always told him "the heavier the gun, son - the better built it is and more reliable it will be". He took this advice to heart, and had never bought a weapon that didn't feel heavy enough compared to its size.
The clerk looked at him quizzically, eyeing him up carefully as if trying to figure out what this young lad's intentions for buying such a big pistol could be.
Donovan smiled, an attempt to reassure the clerk that no ill-intentions came with his purchase - but it only served to deepen the furrowed brow of the clerk.
"How much for the laser sight and hollow-points?"
Perhaps it was the combination of items, perhaps it was the fact that hollow-points were designed for one thing - to cause maximum destruction to a persons insides. Whatever it was, this request was met with a reaction from the clerk that Donovan wouldn't have expected in a million years.
The sound of the shotgun going off deafened Donovan and sent him sprawling backwards into glass display cases full of various semi-automatic weapons. He had no idea whether or not he'd actually been hit, but the volume of the gun blast, and the fact it had been pointed no more than two inches from his chest a moment before, led him to believe he had.
He screamed in expectant pain. Of course he couldn't hear himself scream. But he felt it in his throat. Oddly the pain he fully expected, along with the rush of blood from what should have been left of his lungs into his mouth never came.
It took several moments before his hearing returned to a point where he could finally hear the clerk's voice.
"Man, I didn't even scratch you! I shot the floor! Look what you did to my display cases! The insurance company will NEVER cover this! What kind of monster do you think I am? That I'd shoot an unarmed civilian?"
Donovan picked himself up from the floor, careful to avoid cutting himself on the shards of glass that now surrounded him.
"What in the hell did you do that for?!" He yelled angrily at the clerk. "Is this how you deal with ALL your customers?!"
The clerk considered whether to rise to the bait, but thought better of it.
"I am sorry. I over-reacted. I thought you were one of those 'gang-bangers' and was only trying to scare you off. How was I to know you'd react like that?"
Donovan stared at the clerk, incredulous. The nerve of this guy! Goes and fires off a shotgun at someone like that, then HE gets upset when a few display cases get destroyed?!
"Just give me what I asked for and let me get the hell outta this place! And don't even THINK of charging me for the damage. That's your own damn fault."
The clerk rushed to his register and rang up the cost of the items. Donovan slammed the money into the guys outstretched hand and exited the store as rapidly as he could.
'Stupid idiot' he fumed to himself, swearing under his breath 'Almost cost me fifty grand. The Client would never understand or accept his idiocy for me failing to eliminate the Target. That was a close call!'.
The clerk looked at him quizzically, eyeing him up carefully as if trying to figure out what this young lad's intentions for buying such a big pistol could be.
Donovan smiled, an attempt to reassure the clerk that no ill-intentions came with his purchase - but it only served to deepen the furrowed brow of the clerk.
"How much for the laser sight and hollow-points?"
Perhaps it was the combination of items, perhaps it was the fact that hollow-points were designed for one thing - to cause maximum destruction to a persons insides. Whatever it was, this request was met with a reaction from the clerk that Donovan wouldn't have expected in a million years.
The sound of the shotgun going off deafened Donovan and sent him sprawling backwards into glass display cases full of various semi-automatic weapons. He had no idea whether or not he'd actually been hit, but the volume of the gun blast, and the fact it had been pointed no more than two inches from his chest a moment before, led him to believe he had.
He screamed in expectant pain. Of course he couldn't hear himself scream. But he felt it in his throat. Oddly the pain he fully expected, along with the rush of blood from what should have been left of his lungs into his mouth never came.
It took several moments before his hearing returned to a point where he could finally hear the clerk's voice.
"Man, I didn't even scratch you! I shot the floor! Look what you did to my display cases! The insurance company will NEVER cover this! What kind of monster do you think I am? That I'd shoot an unarmed civilian?"
Donovan picked himself up from the floor, careful to avoid cutting himself on the shards of glass that now surrounded him.
"What in the hell did you do that for?!" He yelled angrily at the clerk. "Is this how you deal with ALL your customers?!"
The clerk considered whether to rise to the bait, but thought better of it.
"I am sorry. I over-reacted. I thought you were one of those 'gang-bangers' and was only trying to scare you off. How was I to know you'd react like that?"
Donovan stared at the clerk, incredulous. The nerve of this guy! Goes and fires off a shotgun at someone like that, then HE gets upset when a few display cases get destroyed?!
"Just give me what I asked for and let me get the hell outta this place! And don't even THINK of charging me for the damage. That's your own damn fault."
The clerk rushed to his register and rang up the cost of the items. Donovan slammed the money into the guys outstretched hand and exited the store as rapidly as he could.
'Stupid idiot' he fumed to himself, swearing under his breath 'Almost cost me fifty grand. The Client would never understand or accept his idiocy for me failing to eliminate the Target. That was a close call!'.