Willard was an outlaw but not a good one. He felt Banks were his specialty, but he failed to rob one because of his ineptitude, so he focused on convenience stores and drive-thru’s which was not nearly so profitable but offered him some measure of safety. He thought one day he would graduate, but for now, he was content to strike for less and await his big payday. Then one cold and windy night he entered a twenty-four-hour minimart and found himself alone with the owner who deftly placed a revolver on the counter as he saw Willard enter. Willard, taken aback said “I just want chips, man. No trouble.” Willard sized up the situation and knew if he went for his pocketed pistol the owner could get the drop on him and probably blast him before he could retaliate, so went about the store collecting items but noticed the man monitoring his every move on the closed-circuit video while leaning on the counter with his hand just inches away from the gun. So, Willard proceeded to shop randomly while continuing to look for an opening, but the owner grew leery of Willard’s dalliance and placed his hand on the weapon while watching every image. By this point Willard had amassed a sizeable armload of goods and made his way back to the counter. He realized he had rendered himself defenseless by the sheer volume of his goods. Placing the goods on the counter with a thud, Willard pretended to reach for his wallet while the owner moved to the cash register on his right. It was at this point that Willard felt he had his ‘opening’ and attempted to draw his weapon, but it unexpectedly snagged in the lining of his heavy jacket pocket. The owner, alert to Willard’s abrupt movement, quickly re-secured his gun. Willard, aware he had lost his opportunity left the pistol in his pocket without displaying it and tipping his hand, then continued to pat himself down as if searching for his wallet. Finally, he reached into his rear pocket and carefully withdrew the wallet before displaying it to the owner. The owner placed the gun on the lip of the cash register and proceeded to ring Willard up. This was the impasse Willard dreaded as he had limited funds available but watched as the register added up a sizeable sum. Totaling the amount the owner stated, “Thirty-six, eighty-two.” Willard pulled out his last two twenties and reluctantly handed them over. The owner inserted the bills into the register and handed him the receipt. “Can I get a bag?” Willard requested, and as the owner bent under the counter Willard made his move, but the owner still had his weapon in hand, and blasted off three quick shots which caught Willard by surprise as he realized he’d been hit and stumbled away towards the exit before collapsing in the open doorway, newly wedged by the crumbled body, succumbed to his wounds.
Willard was an outlaw but not a very good one.
V
