SOMETHING ROTTEN IN THE SUGAR BOWL - DES NNOCHIRI
"Yeah." Mickey bobbed his head up and down, like a dashboard ornament.
"Uh-huh." Mickey nodded again. "See, on league night, The Sugar Bowl is packed. And when the Hyper-Mall Maulers are in - like tonight - they always bring the week's money, with them. Cash and checks. We'll walk with, like, three, four hundred grand. Easy."
I checked the action on my shotgun. Slid the back-up piece into my waistband.
"Well," I said. "Let's do this, if we're gonna."
We went in. Ski-masks on. Weapons held high. And stopped dead, to a chorus of clicks.
We were staring down the barrels of maybe 200 service revolvers, assorted Magnums, and 9-millimeter automatics.
"Did you check the timetable, Mickey?" I asked.
"Well, check it on the way out," I said. "I think we got the wrong night."
BIO: Desmond (Des) Nnochiri spent his early years traveling with his parents, and was educated in England, the USA, and the Republic of Ireland (Eire). He writes freelance now, and has taken his first steps into the world of screenwriting. He has contributed stories to A Twist of Noir, The Flash Fiction Offensive, and Powder Burn Flash. He has just started blogging at Des Nnochiri's Write to Speak.
Until the Absolute End
3 days ago