As I poured my daily dose of caffeine from the hottest coffee pot created by man, a raggedy old Chevy pulled up to pump three.  A midsized male tumbled from the driver's seat, flipped up his hood, and started toward the door of Big Al’s Convenience and Gasoline Mart.  I smelled the hot dog and coffee I was holding in my hands as I continued with my routine.  A flashing “We ID All Three” sign caught my attention and I wondered how true that sign really was.  Making my way towards the register, a commotion erupted to my right.  The man from outside had made it into the store and was picking a fight with a local trucker over the last hot dog bun.  As the Sheriff, I felt obligated to intervene.  Before I could get there the man pulled a gun and began shouting.

“Now open the register and give me all the money!  Now!  Let's go hurry up.” the robber said.

“Okay, sir.  Hold on.” the cashier replied scared.

“Don’t do anything stupid now!  I don’t have this thing just for looks.  I will use it on you old man.” the robber input.

Obviously, this idiot didn’t check his surroundings when he came in.  I figured this guy must be an amateur, so I hid behind some shelves and got closer.  Right as I was gonna make my move, the trucker began charging at him, he was a very large man who I could tell hadn’t run in a long time because he looked like he was gonna fall over with each step he took.  The robber saw him and easily put four rounds in his chest.  I was shocked, I never thought he’d shoot.  

“Anyone else wanna try me?  I said I wasn’t scared to use it.” the robber no longer looked like an amateur.

“I want you to think about what you have done and consider what you do next very carefully”  I implied.

I raised up with my gun and badge in hand.  He did not hesitate to shoot at me.  BANG. BANG. BANG. Luckily he missed all three.  

He ran from the store and got in his beater car parked outside, started it up, and sped away.  The trucker was groaning for help but I didn’t care.  I ran outside firing my pistol full speed at the car zooming away at a speed far too fast for the car.  The car did not have a license plate, but I would be able to identify it with just how battered it was.  

Back inside the store, the cashier had called 911.  The trucker was not well, three of the four shots had hit major components of his abdomen.  

“Tell my wife I love her.”  He was spitting blood.

“What is your name sir?”  I couldn’t help him without knowing.

The man died before he could give me his name. I did not have time to wait for the ambulance to arrive.  I got in my car and drove, I was going more than 100 miles an hour when I saw his car in the ditch.  The front wheel had fallen off.  The robber was still there, probably unsure of what to do.  I slammed on the brakes, got out, gun drawn, and shouted for him to stop running.  I unloaded my magazine of bullets into the back of the man with the raggedy old Chevy, he dropped, dead as a doornail.