New Story: All for a Girl

I promised a sick friend of mine that I would write a story about him. . . However he had several seizures and got serious brain damage. I feel bad that he may understand the story now. I hope is mother enjoys it at least.

Here is my story: All for a Girl

The city was in its hustle and bustle . . . full of crowds of people going from one sky scrapper to another. The clicking sound of heals hitting the pavement while men and women rushed to work. They have coffee and bagels in their hands, and brief cases hanging from their arms.

The road was back to back with yellow from all the taxis. Several different accents yelling at each other. . . Several men and women talking on their cellphone not looking where they are going. They are more focused on trying to make that first morning deal.

The stores start to open their doors, turning their signs from close to open. . .

You realize that you only have a few singles in your pocket. You walk, step by step, to the first ATM. You realize there is someone watching you: you see the eyes on the reflection of the ATM machine. A slightly mixed feeling of panic and interest fall deep within the pit of your belly. You try to stay focused on the credit transaction. You grabbed the two twenty dollar bills,  quickly fold them, and place them in your front jean pocket with your bank card. You, then, turn around to see a very cute, bubbly face smiling at you. You blush slightly and smile back. She giggles. It started out to be a very good day.

 

You get to the café and find out that the money and card is missing. You were glad that you had checked before ordering. You walk back to the bank to get more money, and to deactivate your card.  You open the door to see a pretty brunette with her hair pinned back and huge brown puppy dog eyes.  She smiles walking through the open door way, and in such a soft, sweet voice, she says “Thank you, good sir.” You smile back, you like being called “Sir.” You also slightly blush, while she walks by, and you get a scent of her silky perfume.

You force yourself back to reality to see the lovely, young lady in line. She makes sure you get behind her. You step into line noticing that there are about three people before you plus the beautiful miss. The first person is pudgy man in a hat with long blonde and grey beard. The second person is a retired man with gray in a worn out business suit. His pocket jingle sounding of heavy change. The third person is a house wife putting away her weekly savings. She is chatting and talking to the other men claiming it’s her “rainy day” fund. You know they all had reasons for being there, but the young miss in front of you.

“I hope they hurry, I have to pick up the register change for my sister’s bakery.” You are not sure why she told you that, but you enjoy her paying attention to you. You both just seem comfortable around each other; you liked the feeling.

“Did you—“ You are about to ask her if she had breakfast yet, when two masked men rush into the bank.

“Everyone on the ground! This is a stick up!” You hear the words, but you make sure the girl was on the ground first. Then you slowly move down to the floor; it’s cold and hard against your skin. Everything seems to be moving in a slow motion. The house wife screams and then cries to bring you back to a faster reality.

The masked robbers rush to the tellers and scream at them to fill the several bags that are thrown. The tellers did as they were told. The robbers grab the bags of money; there is about $30,000. They turn to walk out and the leader shouts. . .

“Do NOT get up until we leave!”

You keep your eyes on the guard that was ignored upon entrance. He sees you and notices your calm hand gestures. The leading robber walks by you and you roll under his feet. His body goes flying with the bag of money. His finger is locked in the trigger and in a smooth motion, he clicks the trigger making the bank echo with a banging sound. The bullet flies out to hit the other robber in the spleen, upper left of his abdomen. Both of the criminals fall to the floor at the same time.

You wrestle the gun out of the leader’s hand. However the guns goes off again forcing the bullet into the ceiling, and it creates a ringing in both of your ears. . . The gun goes flying out of his hand.

The guard pins the injured robber, grabs his gun, and cuffs him. The guard sees you pinning the leading robber who is still struggling under you, and he gives you another set of cuffs. The teller calls 9-1-1.

You cuff the leader just as the police pull up to the entrance with their lights on and their sirens blaring.

 

The police ask everyone for reports, and they eventually congratulate you on your heroic actions. The local newspaper and then news channel van flood the streets. They all want to hear your story. The basic concept is that you went with your gut.

“Thank you for saving me, I mean us.” The young, pretty woman with the puppy eyes replies to you and kisses you on the cheek.

“Are you available for breakfast, or at least brunch?” You ask with a smile. She kisses you on the other cheek. You hope it was yes.

 

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