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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Death · #1400393
A man robs Mcdonald's. The cashier is super hot leaded.
This guy walks into a Mcdonald’s, gets in front of the counter, looks before him and sees this girl named Claire (it says so on her Tag). She smiles at him. His eyes are really white, and really wide, and they look down at the counter. But, say Claire, our beautiful, terrified, attendee, told what happened then on, it would tell like:

O my god o my god that guy has a gun, I can see the shape...his cape just flapped. Aahhh I SAW it, I better…oh god he’s looking at me. No, no, please, keep it concealed, don’t take it out… please, PLEASE, don’t change my life…

He pulls it out. It fires at the ceiling, while He yells. It aims itself squarely on Claire’s forehead, while He yells. It shakes threateningly, while He just yells.

Claire frozen. Bathing her inner thighs with pee. Blood coursing so fast it crowds in her heart. Brain so lost…in the color yellow.
It’s a shape…no…an idea!…No…wait…now, it’s a place!
The color is bolder! thicker!
She’ll never make it
back. The Body will petrify, and never make a sound quite like Her-before Him:

“FUCKING GIVE ME THA DOUGH BATCH!!!”
“YOU UNDESTAND ME HO!! AY AY, NOBODY FUCKIN MOVE. AIGHT!!
Hand on blaster waves, 10 to 2, then 2 to 10, at the crowd. ‘Had to be black’ is a little something the police will say, maybe locals reading the Yapplin Chronicle, also, but will they say something about the terrified; I wouldn’t. Maybe a little, just to say “me, my ma, or pa could have been them, there, sitting at that restaurant, enjoying our ration, when in comes the robber, and robs the money, the appetite, and the peace.”
So you’ll understand, the next thing the gunman does is squeeze the trigger. Oh the fire from the machine made such thunder, and the lightning - ran from Claire’s forehead, to her nose, cheek, chin, neck, breast, and abdomen.
The metal sprayed, lodge in her Head and Torso.
The bullet fired, shot her Face and Body.
The Helmet and Suit collapses.

On the dancefloor:
Her body makes a sound, but not quite like Her-before hell.
Impressions, by the truckloads, imparted throughout the crowd in phosphorus flashes.

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