Tuesday, February 27, 2007
New Beginning 227
When someone's shooting at you, run in a zigzag.
When you're chubby and prone to hysteria, try not to get shot at in the first place.
Chubbiness and hysteria, along with lung-lancing Chicago cold and sneaker soles worn to tractionlessness, worked against Lacie as she willed herself through the parking lot. Her foot shot out from under her; despite the fact she'd been running head down, eyes-on-the-ground, Lacie had failed to notice an inconveniently-placed patch of ice.
Her ass hit the ground, hard. Knocked breathless, Lacie thought of nothing. Seconds later, as she scrambled to get back on her feet, Lacie thought two things: my coccyx is bruised, and why haven't I been shot?
Afraid to lift her head out of a childish conviction that to look for the bad guy was to see him, and to see him was to die, Lacie concentrated on slowing and steadying her breathing so she could hear.
What she heard was, “Did you get ’em?”
Lacie shrieked. She spun around to look right into the face of a heavy-set blonde. “Jeez, Chrissy,” she said, panting. “You scared the heck out of me.”
“Did you get ’em?”
“Here.” Lacie showed her the box. “We split ’em 50/50, just like we agreed. Right?”
A cacophony of screaming engines and sirens accompanied by strobing blue, red and white lights, interrupted them. Lacie started to hyperventilate. “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod . . . ” The two women were now looking down the barrels of a dozen regulation issue revolvers held by a dozen super-pissed members of Chicago’s finest.
“Jesus, Lacie, what did you do?”
Lacie glanced back at the store. “I--I took the last dozen sugar-frosted double jelly supremes.”
Opening: CLD.....Continuation: Anonymous