**Quick author's note here.  I'm really sorry a month and change has gone by without any word from me.  Straight up, I fell out of routine and laziness set in.  My bad, and I'm sorry.  I realize there are only thirteen of you, but you took the time to hit the follow button so I feel bad.  I'm going to get back in my routine as I miss doing this.  Also, you may have seen the one review I have which grants me 5 stars.  That is from my now ex-girlfriend, and I pretty much paid for it with sex.  That being said, I would love honest reviews.  I know I'm not making the weekly top with this and I don't expect to, but I would like outside, unbiased opinions.**

*Back to the story*

My first instinct was to sniff or taste the powder, I immediately caught myself though.  I didn't know how to identify any drugs.

"Fuck, what's Green gonna say?"  I knew he'd probably pop a rod to see this much cash.  The drugs posed a whole new level of problems however.  This was a shit ton of money supposed to go to a cash house, and it didn't.  I watched enough t.v and movies to know what happened to the guys like me who did things like this.  I contemplated fixing the cash amount.  It made sense in my head.  Leave, a couple hundred in the bag and then use the excess to salt any bad jobs in the future.  Multiple problems arose from this possibility though.  First off, I didn't trust myself with money for shit.  Second, the others saw how much Riley packed into the bag, they'd suspect me of stealing from Kevin, and them.  Not to mention my mom.  While the basement had essentially become my part of the house, she occasionally did come down here and the chance of her stumbling on my load of highly illegal cash was something I didn't want to have to account for.  Thumbing a handful of bills, another little plume of powder escaped.  "Oh yea, and the drugs."  I was seeing more and more, almost lacing the bills.  I started to get curious, and then I got an idea.  Wondering just how much of this junk was actually in the bag, I stuck my head in.  I couldn't see worth a damn so I yanked on the ends to try and let more light in.  I immediately regretted it as a cloud of the unknown powder hit me in the face just as I happened to be taking a breath.  I started coughing instantly,  I stumbled away from the bag as fast as possible and fumbled for my inhaler.  I doubted it would help but I was panicking, I needed something, anything to work.  The problems caused by whatever drug I just inhaled would have to wait until I could properly breath again.  I had trouble actually using the inhaler properly, every deep breath caused me to cough up a cloud of the shit.  

"Mitch?  You ok down there?"  It was mom.  She didn't sound overly concerned, but then again, these kind of coughing fits were uncommon with me at best.

"Yea, all clear."  I coughed.  "Just drank something wrong.  It was the best excuse I had, mainly because I knew it would work.  By this point, much of my coughed up clouds had settled in my mouth, drying it out like crazy, I dreaded whatever insane side effects were on their way.  Then, the taste registered,  it didn't really taste like anything, maybe, flour.  I had a sudden moment of clarity.  The thing that put Luke's on the map, hand made doughnuts.  Every morning they'd put out some of the best damn doughnuts I'd ever had, and there was a bakery in the back.  "Thank christ."  I sighed hard, well, I did whatever was closest to a sigh, given I still had lungs full of dust.  I knew Luke's made mad money off those doughnuts, but the few thousand dollars in my backpack still seemed like a lot.  Raymond and my dad were fighting in my head now.  My dad's mantra was essentially, more, more, more.  Raymond on the other hand didn't believe anything came without a catch.  I had taught myself that a proper thief should find a spot somewhere between the two.

I kept telling myself that the safe must have been open when we got there, maybe they were mid cash drop when we showed up, I didn't see the teller duck under the counter, I was too busy with the hostages, also, Stephan inadvertently made himself into a solid distraction.  I decided to run with that,  I needed to stop thinking about it.  Kevin would get all of it, hopefully he'd cut us some slack or something from such a solid payout.

Halfway through binging my way around the internet Trent texts me.

"What did we make?  Well, what did he make?"

"A lot, we musta hit em mid cash dump or some shit."

"Awesome...kinda, maybe he'll toss us a bone."

"I'm duckin hoping so.  Catchya round man."

With that I plugged in my phone, fell onto my bed and rolled into my blankets.


About the author


  • Canada
  • Cursed Holy Knight

Bio: Uncontrollable imagination, trying to get a hold of it by posting here. I try to post every couple days but recent personal issues are making that difficult.

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