Give It Up
There are many different types of thieves. There are the thieves that so proliferate in the upper echelons of companies and governments that neatly steal millions of euros with no violence whatsoever. Then there are the thieves, that armed with what they can find, break into a house, a store, or a car to take anything of value. The worst thieves, for many people, are those who wave a gun in the face of the victim.
That's what the storekeeper of a bakery in the province of Alicante must have thought the other day when a man in a ski mask walked into the establishment, took out a gun and demanded the money from the cash register. The woman, scared, backed up to the door leading to the kitchen, and called her husband. When the husband came out, a burly guy, the thief got second thoughts and put away the gun. Innocently, he asked how much a pastry cost. The husband, bewildered, responded, "Forty cents." The thief took out the money, paid for the pastry, and left.
(As I listen to the news, I shake my head and slap my forehead.)
The thief couldn't end the day without obtaining any money, however. So he drove to a gas station, took out the gun and demanded the money. This time he didn't waver and got two hundred euros for his pains. He drove away. While the employee at the gas station was taking stock after having called the Guardia Civil, a client walked in, asking for an empty plastic bottle to fill with gasoline because his car had run out of gas just down the road. The voice sounded familiar, and the employee kept him there, talking and explaining what had just happened. The guardias showed up and the employee pointed out the customer as the thief who had held him at gunpoint. The client's voice was the same as the thief's. When the guardias went down the road to the car, they saw the ski mask and the gun lying in the back seat. Another promising career of crime nipped in the bud.
(By this time I'm laughing at the top of my lungs.)
That's what the storekeeper of a bakery in the province of Alicante must have thought the other day when a man in a ski mask walked into the establishment, took out a gun and demanded the money from the cash register. The woman, scared, backed up to the door leading to the kitchen, and called her husband. When the husband came out, a burly guy, the thief got second thoughts and put away the gun. Innocently, he asked how much a pastry cost. The husband, bewildered, responded, "Forty cents." The thief took out the money, paid for the pastry, and left.
(As I listen to the news, I shake my head and slap my forehead.)
The thief couldn't end the day without obtaining any money, however. So he drove to a gas station, took out the gun and demanded the money. This time he didn't waver and got two hundred euros for his pains. He drove away. While the employee at the gas station was taking stock after having called the Guardia Civil, a client walked in, asking for an empty plastic bottle to fill with gasoline because his car had run out of gas just down the road. The voice sounded familiar, and the employee kept him there, talking and explaining what had just happened. The guardias showed up and the employee pointed out the customer as the thief who had held him at gunpoint. The client's voice was the same as the thief's. When the guardias went down the road to the car, they saw the ski mask and the gun lying in the back seat. Another promising career of crime nipped in the bud.
(By this time I'm laughing at the top of my lungs.)
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