"I was just standing there handing some dude his cigarette change, and next thing I know, there's a gun in my face." The guy-—I forget his name-—scratches his nose. He isn't giving off the just-held-at-gun-point vibe.

     "Okay," I sigh. Interrogation has to be my least favorite part of the job. "So what was you initial reaction?"

     "Well," he leans towards me. "I was pissed off. There's no way I'm going to die as a fuckin'... convenience store clerk!" Speckles of spit soar from his mouth, and I try to dodge them without him noticing.

     No, I'm not a detective. I'm not a cop. I'm some random local reporter and this is the type of shit I have to deal with. However, I like to think of all this as two steps forward and one step back. (At least I'm getting somewhere.)

     "Watching Court TV doesn't make you an expert," I gladly informed her. "There are a lot of things you have to take into account."

     "You wanna go, don't you?" The slashed the pencil through the air.

     "Yes, but-— "

     "But my ass." She returned to her sketch of the store. Her back was perfectly arched from the cot to the make-shift coffee table. She was planning a crime on top of a housewarming present.

     "And why can't we look this up on the internet?" I was sitting on the floor facing her, my back against the cot.

     Her head snapped up at me from the crappy sketch. "Because nothing on a computer can be deleted. It'd only overwritten, and it can easily be retrieved."

     "Okay. Fine. But Judith-— "

     "Judith my ass."

     "Alright, can I see the surveillance tape?" I scratch my nose nervously. I know I don't exactly have the authority, but what's the harm in asking? I look him in the eye. Baring my teeth to show I mean no harm comes to mind. I could bare my tits if that doesn't work.

     "Sure," he says, and heaves his massive body from the poor foldable chair. I follow him to this stuffy security room, where I catch a whiff of his store-brand aftershave. Suddenly, I'm intrigued by the idea of this guy trying to rape me. "Okay, here you go." He must have rewinded to the time of the robbery while I was fantasizing. Startled, I cautiously roll up a chair and absorb the scene. The clerk is standing somewhere behind me, probably enjoying my every discomfort.

     "Wait a second," I mumble to myself. I snap my fingers and wave my hand as he waddles forward. "Something's wrong."

     She stood taller than me, looking down on me. "Women," she pronounced with near disgust, "always make the same mistake."

     "And what would that mistake be?" I really was trying to take her seriously.

     She sighed through her nose, but continued. "They always use the small guns."

     "I guess you're right..." I leaned over the bathroom sink.

     "You don't guess nothin'," she cried.

     "You trash is showing," I said through fluffy mounds of toothpaste. I pointed at her reflection.

     "In conclusion," she decided to dismiss my insult, "we need to bring in the big ones."

     I raised my hand as if addressing a teacher, and spit. "But small guns are so cute and compact."

     "Exactly."

     "What's the problem, miss," he asks me politely. I wonder where his manners came from. Is he sweating?

     "Look," I motion him to come closer. "Look at these guys."

     "Yes, miss?" His aftershave is overpowering now. I turn my head slghtly to get some fresh air. When I dive back in the cloud of extra manly smell, I put my finger on the screen, pointing to one of the robbers.

     "Is that not the most deliberate act you've ever seen?"

     "Well," Clerk Guy puts his finger to the screen too. Aw, monkey see... "These guy are professionals. They're getting cocky."

     For whatever reason, I'm not buying it. These guys are going to get cocky all of a sudden? Maybe they want to get caught.

     It was the night before, and Judith was beyond pumped and adrenaline rushed. Sleep was not an option.

     Cross-legged on the crusty old carpet of our living room/dining room/bedroom, we checked, and checked again. "Wouldn't a robbery 'rock' every community," I asked.

     "Not if the same store has been robbed four times this year..."

     "Whatever. But what's with the crappy clothes and face masks?" I wasn't exactly eager to start climbing into those ancient pants and shirt. God only knew what was crawling in them before they were washed.

     "If people notice you buying new things, it sticks in their minds. Those people become witnesses," she analyzed. "Besided, Terry, who wouldn't want to find out more about two women robbing a store? The last thing we need is major publicity of any kind."

     "You've got a point," I mused. I turned my hands palms up for effect. "'Cause you know, we all know women only poison treachorous husbands."

     "And this is true." She smiled. It was a long time since I'd seen Judith crack anything besides someone's neck. Even if it might have been our last night as non-fugitives from the law...

     Finally realizing what we wer about to accomplish, I slapped my knee excitedly. "Damn. We're like Thelma and Louise in this bitch!"

     She actually laughed that time. "Try Theodore and Louis."

     I contorted my brow. "Nah, those names are too gay."