Just Tonight

Operation Liberation

  Well I'll be okay is that what you want me to say? The Last Something That Meant Anything. True story bro. 

Chapter 3; Operation Liberation

  "I'm sorry sir, we don't serve ice cream." Explaining to a drunk man that a coffee shop doesn't serve ice cream was a lot harder then you'd think it would be. Two minutes after this man walked through the door, I knew he was wasted. Hell, a blind man could tell he was stumbling around. It was blatantly obvious. 

  "I want ice cream!" The man screamed, finally deciding to just trash the shop. Groaning I walked from behind the counter and approached him with my hands up, a pleading look on my face.

  "Please sir, just calm down. I'm sure I can point you in the right direction." I said, stepping closer to him. Big mistake. Suddenly a look of clarity washed over his face and a deep sense of fear surged into my gut. I'd been had. The man jumped forward, grabbing the hair at the nape of my neck and pulling me closer to his chest. Hector came out from the kitchen, alarm clear in his eyes as he took in the situation. 

  "I want all the money in the register or blondie here gets it." The now sober man said as he stuck something cold and metallic against my temple. I heard a click and knew he'd cocked the gun. Of course, a normal Friday night just has to turn into a hostage situation on my part. 

  I shook my head at Hector, mouthing for him to just go back to the kitchen. I could take care of this guy if I got a good distraction. Hector shook his head right back at me and walked to the register. If this man got the money there was no doubt in my mind he'd shoot me. I was a witness. I should of been trembling where I stood but years and years of training prepared me for this. Dad had pushed me into multiple fight classes and even had gang members show me a few tricks so I could take care of myself.

  Fear wasn't programmed into my genes. Although now, as I stood here with a gun to my head, I felt something close to fear. Would my life flash before my eyes before the bullet lodged into my brain? Was my need to overwork myself going to be my doom? It sure seemed like it. 

  "Just let the girl go." Hector said, shocking me. Out of all the months I've worked here never once has Hector uttered a word. 

  "Shut up! I'll do what I want." The man said, pushing me away from him but grabbing onto my hair to keep a hold of me. Hector started to move but I shook my head violently. He didn't have to die too. The man slammed me into the shop door, pushing me out into the crowded mall area. I wouldn't say I was resigned to the fact that death was imminent but I wouldn't say it bothered me either. I was doing what everyone does when they realize the end of their meager life is before them. Bitching. 

  All I could think about revolved around the fact that I hadn't really lived. I'm not talking about exprenicing small things like fireworks or something no, I'm talking about the big things. I never saw myself as the adventerous type but that I was nearing the end I was starting to regret my sheltered lifestyle. There was a long list of stuff forming in my mind that I wouldn't to do if I somehow pulled myself out of this knee deep shit creek. 

  I'd get a tattoo, a piercing other than my ears and maybe even waste some of my money on a concert or two. Anything would be better then my boring, predictable routine. Anything. The man behind me was clearly insane as he waved his gun at passersby. Maybe I could make my move now.. 

  I immediately chastised myself, if I tried to get away now he'd just shoot some random bystander and that wouldn't be very fair of me. The farther we walked the more frantic I became. Someone had to do something if I wanted to get out of this alive and people in this town weren't really the type to play hero.