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Sheila slammed the brakes in front of 7-Eleven, eliciting a very pleasing screech of rubber on pavement and a shuddering fish-tail that excited her in a way she hadn't intended. She ripped off her seatbelt and hopped out of Liberation, the stolen Volkswagen bus. Her faithful companion. Her soul-mate.

Sheila still had chocolate on her fingers as she walked through doors which parted to admit her. They knew better than to remain closed. They knew better. She imagined a pleasing back-light effect from the halogen bulbs in the dark parking lot. She smiled as she locked the doors, then approached the clerk, the store's only other occupant.

"All right, Ghandi," Sheila said softly, intently, "where's the Chocodiles?"

The very Caucasian clerk looked at her oddly. He glanced at the doors Sheila had just locked. He glanced at his phone. "Wh.. what?" he stammered.

"Chocodiles. Now," demanded Sheila.

"Look," said Austin, or at least, his name-tag read 'Austin', "you can... you can have all of the money in the till. Just please don't hurt me. Please take the money and just go. I won't say a thing."

Sheila grinned from ear to ear as she indicated the cameras about the store with Steven, her freshly drawn handgun. "Chocodiles," she intoned.

"Look, I don't know what that is. You can have anything you want from the store, just please... please don't hurt me. I--I've got kids," lied Austin. He looked about 16. Was it even legal for him to work here? Who cared? If he had kids, they were better off without him.

"Look, Mahatma," she said, patiently, slowly, as to a child. He was a child. "I don't want money. I don't want anything in your store. I want Chocodiles. Tell me where."

"I... I think they have them at the Price Chopper?" he attemped. His hand dipped beneath the counter for a moment.

The store was blanketted in silence.


"Waste him," said Steven, "Just waste him. This shit is tired." She wished Steven wouldn't curse.

The first shot took off Ghandi's ear, getting his glasses by default. He screamed. He grabbed his head. The second put him on the floor, missing some of his stupid, ignorant skull.

"If you're not with me, you're against me," whispered Sheila. Damned Id-iot.

The till chimed open. Money hit the drop safe. The dial spun. The doors were unlocked. Sheila mounted Liberation, and the sun began to rise.

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