My Bad Day

         I should never have gotten out of bed this morning.  The clock read ten o’clock and I had already received complaints about a loud neighbor, had four crank calls, had to unplug three toilets, and provide clean sheets to one of the dirtiest couples I have ever seen… twice.  This day was definitely not my day.
         The phone rang.
         “Ten Oaks Motel, how may I accommodate your stay with us today?” I answered.  I know, you don’t have to say it.  The greeting is lame, but it’s in the job description for a motel front-desk clerk.
         “No sir, I do not have spare bottles of hand lotion.  You get whatever’s in the room.  No, I…  I understand you’ve already paid for the room, sir, but I simply do not have any extra bottles up here.  There’s a 7/11 just down the road a block or two away, though.  I’m sure they…  Hello?”
         Asshole.  People ask for the strangest things sometimes.
         The door opened and a man came in.  Behind him, I could see a second man glancing around nervously, then walk off out of sight.  These two did not appear to be business men of any sort.  With the way the second guy was looking around, they were probably lovers still in the closet and the second man wanted to make sure nobody saw him with his partner.  I saw it happen all the time.  If these two ask for new sheets tonight, I swear I’m going to ask someone to shoot me.
         “Good evening, sir, would you like a room?” I asked cordially.
         The man pulled a handgun out of his jacket pocket and aimed it at me, his voice loud and forceful.
         “Listen, bitch!  Shutup and don’t move or I’ll bust a cap in yo ass!  Give me all yo money!”
         So did this moron want me not to move or did he want the money?  My telekinesis wasn’t up to par these days and I would have to move at least one hand to get the cash out of the drawer.  Without thinking about it, I eyed the shotgun we kept under the counter for this very reason.  Don’t even think about it, Joseph, just give the jerk the cash and let him walk away.
         “Are you fucking deaf?  Give me yo money!  Hurry up!”
         My hands shook while I rung up a random charge in order to get the drawer open.  I quickly started placing all the bills on the counter.  Once I finished, I glanced up to find the armed man over by the door, looking out, but with the gun still pointed in my general direction.
         “Hey, Marlon!  What the hell are you doin’?” he yelled at his partner outside, still out of sight.  The gunman was looking away.  I looked at the shotgun just a couple feet away from my hands below the counter and heard an inner voice tell me to reach for it to blow this SOB away.
         I looked up at him and saw he still stood at the door.  My fingers inched away off the counter.  They moved below and headed for the weapon.
         “Marlon, you idiot!  Cut that out and get back to where you’re supposed to be!” he yelled.
         My heart hammered in my chest and I could feel perspiration pouring down my face.  My fingers brushed the cold, hard steel of the shotgun’s barrel.
         “Hey asshole, get your hands back up where I can see them!”
         Shit!  He noticed.  Do it!  Do it now!
         My hands moved the extra couple of inches it took to reach the shotgun and I heard a loud crack of gunfire.  As the entire world moved in slow-motion, I remember stupidly thinking to myself that I could not have been shot because that loud pop sounded nothing like gunfire in the movies.
         The floor slamming against my back argued otherwise.
         I tried to breathe but felt like each breath drew in lungfuls of liquid, instead.  I looked down and saw a dark hole in my chest quickly filling with blood.  Noise echoed somewhere in the background.  It sounded like the gunman gathering up the money and running out the door.
         I looked up at the telephone sitting on the counter, mocking my stupidity and taunting me, daring me to try to reach it and dial for help.  I raised an arm, or tried to, but found that it suddenly weighed a ton.  Both the phone and my arm were traitors and should be shot.
         Everything grew dark.  What a screwed up day.  I never should have gotten out of bed this morning.