Page 275 of S is for SEX

As she walked within a few feet of the cashier, the man behind the counter looked up and grinned.

She raised the pistol level with the man’s face. “Alright you sad motherfucker. Today’s the day you hoped would never come. No sudden movements or it’s gonna get as messy as a shit sandwich.”

The man thrust his hands into the air. “No troubles, please.”

As Ami stood before the register, Ryan faced the front door, hiding safe behind the cover of the display of chips and crackers.

Ami glanced over her shoulder.

“Clear,” Ryan shouted across the store, assuring Ami there were still no patrons approaching.

Ami held the pistol rock-steady in front of the man’s face. She nodded her head toward the register and chuckled as she read the man’s nametag. “Empty the register, Mo. Is that short for Mohammed?”

As she held the barrel of the pistol inches from his forehead, he reached toward the register.

Standing with her legs spread shoulder width apart, Ami waited for him to open the register.

She nodded her head toward the counter. “All of it. Even what’s under the drawer and in the safe. Put it in a bag. I need this money for a new dress. This one’s covered in cum.”

The man’s hands full of bills, he reached under the register for a bag. As his hand came above the bottom of the counter, Ami caught a glimpse of something metallic and shiny.

Immediately, and without a moment’s thought, she pulled the trigger.

The explosion was deafening inside the small store.

The right side of the man’s head exploded, splattering the glass behind the register with brain matter and blood. As he fell backward, he dropped the shotgun on the floor beside where he had been standing.

“Still here,” Ami shouted.

“That’s my girl,” Ryan said.

Ryan walked toward the register, alternating glances between the door and where Ami stood.

He peered over the counter and down at the man. Half of his head was gone, leaving a disproportionate skull with only one eye. His eyes widened and his mouth twisted into a smirk. “Son-of-a-bitch, what a fucking mess.”

A six-foot wide splatter of blood and brain matter covered the glass wall behind the counter.

“Well, you should have seen the size of his head, it’s huge.” She leaned over the counter and looked down at the now dead man’s half missing head. “Well, it was huge.”

Ami tossed her head toward the rear of the store. “Grab a couple Red Bull’s and a sack of Chicharones, and I’ll get the money.”

She jumped onto the countertop.

“Chee cha what’s?” Ryan asked over his shoulder as he walked toward the beverage cooler.

“Chicharones,” Ami shouted as she hopped down off of the counter.

She landed directly into the puddle of blood, slipping and falling twice.

“Awe fuck,” she shouted.

Ami braced herself from completely falling again by thrusting her hands in front of her into the puddle of blood. Crouched on the floor in the puddle of blood and brain matter, she attempted to pick up the money from the floor. As she did, her hair continuously fell into her eyes. Frustrated, she brushed her hair behind her ear with her hand. Unbeknownst to her, her bloody hand slid along the side of her face, leaving a large bloody streak.

With her hand that held the pistol, she wiped her sweat-soaked brow, leaving another bloody streak across her forehead.

“What happened?” Ryan shouted.

“Guts. I stepped in guts,” she said. “No biggie.”

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