The Heist

    Norman hurled his fat body against the door. The door
couldn't resist. Norman dislocated his left shoulder when he rolled
down the stoop steps and hit the sidewalk. Sparks flew as a bullet
struck the concrete only inches from his mass, this time missing his
fat. Stu was waiting in a blue van across the street. He had been
waiting for Norman and Price. He knew that something had gone
terribly wrong.

    Jelly was drinking a slurpee. Not any slurpee mind you; it
was an amalgam of every flavor the 7-11 had to offer. 44 ounces of
cherry lemon-lime coca cola pina colada grape flavored frozen
sugar water. She would use it to chase the Banker's Club that she
never went anywhere without. She was down to the last few slugs
and in dire need of hitting a liquor store. Jelly was virtually
impossible to deal with when sober.

    Norman saw headlights closing in on his position. He felt a
warm wetness in his pants. He quickly stood up, one arm being
jacked up higher than the other. Stu skidded to a stop a few feet
beyond Norman and slid open the van's side door. Norman dove in.
Stu slammed his foot on the gas. Norman's legs were still hanging
out and his feet dragged on the asphalt. He was unable to hulk
himself into the van with only one good arm. Norman had left behind a
half pint of blood on the sidewalk and Stu had no idea where to go.

    It was no secret that Norman had the IQ of a stick. The
problem was that the leader of their crew, Price, had the IQ of a
grapefruit. This would turn out to be the cause of the fatal flaw in
their plan. Price was gone, the coke was lost and Norman had been
shot. Poor Price had only been out of jail for a week. He’ll never
get to reach his goal of stealing as many cars as Hank Aaron hit
home runs. It was a shame since he was already in the 500 club,
actually tied with Mike Schmidt.

    Stu was crying like a baby. Norman had lost a shoe and
could barely hold on to the van. Jelly wondered why the hell it was
taking Stu so long to come and pick her up. She was very nervous
about running out of vodka. Like Price, Jelly also had a goal. Jelly
wanted to be drunk for the rest of her life. She was still capable of
working on her goal.

    Stump wasn’t a very bright man either. Nor was he a good
shot. He expended eleven rounds in a twelve foot by twelve foot
room and hit a four hundred pound, six foot tall man only once. He
did hit Price three times but he wasn’t aiming at Price. He didn’t
even know that Price was in the room. Price had been hiding in a
steamer trunk.

    Jelly left the 7-11. There was a grocery store across the
street and she decided times were desperate enough to warrant an
emergency action. She was going to buy and drink mint extract. If
that didn’t work she was prepared to down a bottle of Robitussen.
Jelly had some serious issues to work out.

    Norman finally lost his grip. He rolled under the back tire of
the van, bucking it violently. Stu lost control and smashed into a
telephone poll. He died upon impact. Norman lived until the
paramedics arrived. A woman had called them when she
heard the crash in front of her house.

    Jelly bought her goodies. She walked back to the 7-11 and
waited for Stu. She was going to be all right.