There was only that one chance. The crowds were thick enough to create a diversion and grab it. The moneybag lay idle in the counter, so it would be enough for a fire alarm to cause a small panic, stretch the arm, grab the dough and make a run for the door. The only obstacle would be the guard at the door, a buffy looking security agent who seemed in love with his job. He had the handcuffs in plain view, as well as a can of pepper spray and a mean looking baton, which he caressed with his left hand like a cat owner would his pet. Just then a scanty clad dame popped in distracting the guy who comported himself like a gentleman by pointing her to somewhere and then walking with her a bit. Gary saw his chance and walked towards the book section and stopped near the emergency fire alarm, pulled it and started to walk in a steady pace towards the counter so as not to raise suspicions. At the sound of the alarm everyone became disconcerted and moved quickly to get the heck out of there. Gary grabbed the dough just when the clerk was trying to figure out what was happening and made a dash for the door. He ran as fast as he could and swung the doors wide open with all his might.
Ernest didn’t feel like opening that can of beer, he had enough of the drudge monotony that was beginning to fill his daily evenings. So he picked up his keys, put his jacket on, checked that the radio was off and left his flat. Down the elevator, he came across a neighbor he was pissed at so he just gave him looks that killed, and then proceeded as they wlked out to cheerfully and out loud say hi to the first passerby he met just to piss off the neighbor even more. 9pm and he took a whiff at the city, it smelled like buttered popcorn does at the movies except that it was drizzling. So he kept walking, destination unknown, thinking maybe that it was time to pay a visit to his old girlfriend. A few blocks down the road he found a quarter, still wet he picked it up and started to flip it up in the air as passersby whisked along. Should he walk there and see her or should he take a cab? Should he just drop by or should he announce his visit? He kept a fast pace as he took off the hand from his palm to see how the quarter landed and see what fate had sealed for him.
Olga was in the mood for some shopping. She donned a miniskirt, and a shirt that fit like a glove that marked her voluptuous body at every curve. The stiletto high heel shoes put the extra touch in a very nice outfit. Looking outside the window she noticed some small rain drops in her pane. She grabbed an umbrella just in case her hairdo came into danger. Looking one last time in the mirror, she checked her deep red lipstick color in her lips, pursed them inwards and made a loud pop! sound from her mouth. She walked the stairs down to the street, it was busy and the city noise became a second background as a known passerby to her stopped her and a loudmouth crowd passed them by. They exchanged some salutatory greetings and after that she went her way swinging the unneeded umbrella in a circular motion as her hips moved to a salsa song in her head. A few blocks well into the city and ad caught her eye, 35% off on all Calvin Klein products. She went in.
The weather was gray and the city noises were a mishmash of screams, crying and yelling with that of cars passing by and a police car with its siren still on. The ambulances had the siren lights on, resembling a disco death of sorts. To the left of the sidewalk, were curious onlookers stared, were bundles of money and shiny coins scattered across. They stood in wait, like vultures, for a distraction from the only police car to have arrived at the scene of the accident. Some handcuffs lay strewn on the street, and a security guard sat by the sidewalk with a bruised head and what seemed to be blood running from his nose, dripping down to the wet asphalt mixing with the gasoline and oil stained flow of water near a gutter. Medics were attending to three people and one was already being carried inside the ambulance in what seemed to be an unconscious state, it seemed he had suffered a deep concussion to his head. Another man was lying down in the wet street complaining that the back of his legs hurt ‘like a motherfucker’ and that he might also have a fracture to his kneecaps. The other body, a female, had some red lipstick smeared in her face and a miniskirt displaying fine long looking legs and some broken high heel shoes. She was being pumped air and an injection being administered to her in her left arm glared all the lights that the city could reflect on its metal needle at that moment.
A small whisper coming from the crowd fought its way through the noise and the lights, ‘Hey! What happened here?’
43 Han clachado