It’s Sunday morning. You’re ready for a relaxing day at home but you realize that you’re all out of coffee. You take a quick trip to the grocery store, and while you’re in line to check out, someone comes up behind you and points a gun at the cashier. “Stop what you’re doing. Give me all the money in the register.” What do you do? Do you run or do you stop the robber?
“Give me all the money or I’ll fucking kill you.”
I see the glint of the gun as I am about to place a bag of frozen rice cakes on the conveyor belt. The young cashier girl’s eyes widen with fright. I turn and see the man. His face is flushed like a rotten tomato on a sweltering day. Sweat is beaded on his lined forehead. There is rage in his clouded unfocused eyes. It looks like rage at the world. The man continues to scream and gesture at the cashier girl with his gun. Big fat tears roll down her cheeks. His yellowed sweat stained t-shirt is in tatters.There are track marks all over his arms. I should be scared. But I don’t feel fear. I feel bad for this man.
Desperate for funds to get his next fix. Just a shell of a man who’s only purpose has been reduced to getting that next high. A slave to drugs. The man turns his attention to me and keeps cursing. I can’t believe this is happening. All I wanted was to get some damn rice cakes to make dukbokki and some coffee. He lowers his gun to his side. Just as I am about to answer with some curses of my own, a burly shopper smashes a jar of pickles onto the back of the robber’s head. The robber crumples to the floor in a pool of pickle juice and glass shards. Those pickles look crunchy. They’d go nicely sliced up as a side ,to the dukbokki. I headed to the pickle aisle.
Disclaimer: Fiction LOL