Blue Raspberry Slurshy
A short tale to quench your fiction thirst
A personal note from Caro: You will see less of my writing in August, but thankfully I have lots of good stuff lined up from some brilliant guest authors who have kindly agreed to fill in.
It was a hot summer night. The neon lights of the Early Owl 24-hour convenience store flickered in the heat's stillness. The hum of refrigerators filled with chilled drinks and snacks was the only sound. Suddenly, a figure with a gun entered the store, disrupting the peace of the summer night.
The thief, a wiry man, wore a black hoodie and a black and grey striped bandana that covered everything but his eyes. He pointed the weapon at the cashier, demanding all the cash from the register.
“Open the register and give me all the money. The change too. Put it in a paper bag.”
The cashier, Jack, was terrified as the thief pointed the gun at him. Jack fumbled with the keys, trying to open the register as fast as he could. He gave the thief the bag of cash and coins, noticing the thief's eyes move around the store, glancing at the slurshy machines.
“I want a big slurshy.”
The thief grabbed the bag of cash and loose change and shoved it into the pocket of his hoodie.
Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The thief had other intentions besides the money? He also wanted a slurshy?
Jack tried to keep his voice steady.
“What flavor would you like?”
The thief considered for a moment.
Jack poured the icy, sweet, blue concoction into a large transparent plastic cup and stuck in a straw, trying to keep his hands from shaking. He handed the slurshy to the thief and watched as the thief sipped it, eyes closed in pleasure, still pointing the gun at Jack. Then, he continued drinking greedily, the bright color of the drink contrasting with the darkness of the thief’s clothes and bandana. Jack watched, scared, as the thief drank the slurshy, until a gurgling, burping noise signaled the end of the melted liquid in the plastic container.
“Oooh! Oooh! Brain freeze!”
This, as the thief hopped from one foot to the next, while pointing the gun at Jack.
“But damn, that’s good.”
He put the container on the counter still holding the gun. He paused, gazing at Jack.
“Thanks for the drink and the cash. Don’t call the cops for a while, okay?”
He disappeared into the night like a shadow, leaving Jack alone, trembling with fear and shock.
The image of the thief, desperate, haunted Jack’s dreams for weeks. The thief's craving for a cold, sweet drink on a hot summer night was unforgettable. He could see the look of pure joy on the thief’s face as he drank his slurshy. The juxtaposition of the gun and the innocent craving created a haunting contrast, one that Jack could never forget.
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