June 2010 — Flea Market Zombies

If you didn’t know any better, you might call her a witch. At least that’s what she said. I don’t know what the hell she is. For all I know, she might be a demon. Maybe an angel. It’s hard to tell.

The day I met her, I was standing in line at the bank, waiting to cash one of those damn seven-dollar rebate checks. It was lunchtime and the line was long. When I first walked in, I almost turned around and walked right back out. But then I would have wasted my trip to the bank. Hell. All for a lousy seven bucks.

It looked like all three tellers were working so I didn’t think it would take too long. I was wrong. Ten minutes later and I’d only made it halfway up to the front. The tellers were taking forever to wait on their customers. I don’t know what their deal was, but it was really starting to annoy me.

I had just decided to walk out when three armed men burst through the front doors. They all had ski masks on. One of them had a shotgun and he seemed to be in charge. He shot a round into the air and purposefully pumped another round into the chamber of the weapon. I don’t know if you have ever heard a shotgun go off in an enclosed space, but I’ll tell you, it’s quite an attention getter.

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