I wish I had more exciting of a life. Because then you would have a more exciting on-line journal to read. I suppose I could start making up exciting things that could have happened to me today. Like this morning, when I walked to 7-11 to grab a French Vanilla Cappuccino and while digging through my wallet looking for exact change, a hooded man came in through the front entrance, brandished a gun, and shouted for everyone (being me and a seventy-year-old woman buying several packages of honey roasted peanuts) to get down on the ground. We complied, and he approached the man at the cash register, who had just finished soiling himself.
“Give me all your gosh darn money!” the gunman screamed. Cash Register Guy nodded and shakily pressed a button to open the money drawer. He handed over what few bills were in the drawer, mostly fives and ones, I noticed from my limited vantage point on the floor.
The gunman was upset with the tiny loot, but remained unfazed. “No one move until I have safely made my escape!” he yelled again. Though, really, we were all within feet of each other–the yelling was very unnecessary, even for the seventy-something. He fired a shot into the ceiling to let us know he meant it, and ended up hitting one of the store’s sprinklers–which proceeded to drench us all in a sudden downpour of water in angry retaliation.
“Crikey!” the gunman shouted, and bolted from the store. I stood and, after helping the woman to her feet, approached the cash register. I gave him a five for the coffee. He looked at me apologetically, both of us knowing he couldn’t give me the correct change. I shrugged.
“Keep it.” I said.
Hey, it could happen. Except for the gunman’s cheesy dialogue.