Angus and Mac were down on their luck. The boss would not be happy. Each day the boss, Tommy Grim, ordered his cronies to threaten those who failed to meet the standards. Twice now Angus and Mac had botched robberies, ending up with bruised legs and bleeding gums. They knew their days were numbered.
They sat in the diner, staring into the murky brown liquid that called itself coffee.
Mac stared at each corner, each window. He began to think thoughts he’d feared he’d lost. “Hey, Angus?”
“What d’ya want now? Can’t you see I’m busy planning my funeral?”
Mac pounded the table. “By God, that’s it! Angus,” he whispered, “I know what to do. We’re going to rob the place.”
Angus looked up, his mouth twisted in trepidation. “What place?”
“This place. Chip’s Diner. Tomorrow night.”
Hope flickered like a waxen candle rising from puddled ashes. Their eyes illuminated, and they felt the release of those icy boss claws. Angus and Mac, so engrossed in their plans, never noticed the shadowy forms oozing around the corner.
Twenty-four hours later, they raised their pry bars. “Smash my glass, and you’re dead,” a familiar voice said. Angus and Mac turned to face the furious eyes of Tommy Grim, secret owner of Chip’s Diner.
Copyright © 2015 by Emily Clayton
Originally appeared on 200 Word Tuesdays: