Pawn Shop

"Have you got any bullets for this gun?"

He looked over at me and the gun in my hand with a puzzled expression.

"What gun? You've got a wrench in your hand."

I looked down at the instrument of death in my hand. Huh, he was right. It WAS a wrench. I was dismayed.

"How the fuck am i supposed to rob a pawn shop with a wrench?!"

"Just stick it in your pocket and point it at them. They'll just THINK it's a gun."

I groaned at him. "That's so cheesy! Only some asshole in a movie would do that!"

"Well, you're stuck. They don't make bullets for wrenches. Here, put this on." He handed me something that looked like a shower cap with a face mask attached.

"What's this?"

"It's an anti-DNA identity protection device. They won't be able to identify you, and you won't leave any DNA at the scene."

"It looks like a shower cap with some eye-holes cut out."

"It is. I made it myself."

I had to admit, i was impressed. "Good idea!" I put it on, and i instantly felt like no hair or face skin would be left on our victims' counter top. I looked over at him. He had put his on too, but i could still discern his ethnicity. I opened my mouth to point this out, and then closed it, as it couldn't really be helped anyhow. I hoped the pawn shop people weren't getting suspicious of us. We'd been sitting outside in this car making our preparations for quite some time now, after all. I thought i'd be nervous if i were a pawn shop person watching two jerks in a car outside putting on masks and conversing as long as we had been.

"Ready check," he said to me.

I took a deep breath and nodded to him. We got out of the car and rushed inside the pawnshop, him brandishing his gun, and me poking my wrench as far forward in my pocket as it would go, hoping it looked like a gun, and glad they couldn't see my face painted with embarrassment. It really was a cheesy thing to do. So cliche.

He approached the counter, looking rather like a badass who'd done this before. He thrust a Walmart bag toward the clerk and demanded the money. The clerk looked apprehensively at the register, and back at my partner, like he wanted to say something. He decided, at last, to do so.

"Er, you won't need the bag. I can just put it right in your hand." He proceeded to open the register and dump the contents into my partner's outstretched hand. I looked at his hand and did a mental tabulation that was probaby far off its mark, as badly as i suck at math in my head. Anyhow, it looked to be about thirty eight cents in nickels and pennies.

"What the fuck is this?!" i demanded.

"What, you think you're the only one having a bad economy? People pawn their shit, take my money, and then don't pay on the loans. Then i'm stuck with all this bullshit no one wants to buy!" He gestured around at the shop. I looked at the items for sale and realized he was right: it WAS a bunch of bullshit no one would want to buy; the place resembled a picked-over thrift store more than a pawnshop.

"Well why the hell are you lending people money for shit you know you can't sell?!"

He glared at me. "SO SORRY for making business choices that would impede your score!"

I menacingly thrust the wrench farther forward in my pocket. "You'd better be glad i don't shoot you out of frustration!"

His lip curled. "You can't shoot someone with a wrench, moron."

Moron?! This wasn't even my fucking idea!! I pulled the trigger and shot him twice in his bad-business-decision-making head. He stood there looking at me, the surprise slowly draining from his face like blood from the wounds i'd inflicted. He fell to the ground behind the counter. I pulled the wrench out of my pocket and looked at it. Huh. Guess it was a gun, after all.