Only 99 cents
The cost of a candy bar and a man’s life
Tony simply wanted a candy bar. The kind full of nuts and held together with chewy caramel and wrapped in a chocolate coating.
But the idiot store clerk had to get involved. The prick.
Tony was in a hurry, rushing to get from Los Angeles to Tucson before rush hour clogged the 10 freeway like paper towels in a low-flush toilet. He opened the door and leaped from the passenger seat. “I’ll be quick.”
“Hurry,” said his partner Alfie, looking at the GPS, keeping the engine idling.
Tony hustled inside the liquor store, grabbed a beer from the cooler, and laid a dollar on the counter. That’s the first bill he grabbed out of his pocket. If he would have pulled out a five spot, he would have used that.
“Hey, that’s two-fifty,” said the man behind the counter who had grey hair and weathered skin.
“Yeah, yeah.” Tony eyed a candy bar just below the counter. Only ninety-cents. He stuffed it in his pocket and turned to the door when he felt a hand tugging his arm.
“I’m so damned tired of you thugs ripping me off.” The clerk had made his way from around the counter. His hands were thick and round.
