The beginning of a beautiful day

 It’s Sunday morning. You’re ready for a relaxing day at home but you realize that you’re all out of coffee. You take a quick trip to the grocery store, and while you’re in line to check out, someone comes up behind you and points a gun at the cashier. “Stop what you’re doing. Give me all the money in the register.” What do you do? Do you run or do you stop the robber?

Prompt

I'd get a coffee to go with it. Because coffee's bitter, a strong cup of coffee can push through anything. That was the only thing on my mind, the trip to the grocery store for the strongest coffee they had. Nothing else.

After a ten minute wait in the line -- how was the store so busy on a friday morning for goddsake -- I got them to give me the strongest nastiest brew they had as the cashier fumbled around with my credit card. Sorry, he said, first week here, trying to get the hang of these things, it'll be a moment please. I opened the small packet and dumped the contents into my brew, it was still bubbling violently like a witch's brew. No rush, I said, it's a slow day, I have nowhere else to go.

Just as the young fool had gotten my card into the machine, an achievement of great significance from the looks on his face, the guy with a black leather jacket on who was fidgeting a lot came up behind me and pointed a gun at him. "Stop what you're doing. Give me all the money n the register," he said in a voice so calm I realized it was going to be the last living day for more than one person in the store. I forgot to breathe for a moment.

"What are you looking at", the man said giving me a dirty look, "you fucko, don't you realize this is a fuckin' robbery and I've got a fucking fireworks on my hands, gonna blow this guys face off if you're thinkin' of doing something," he said to me. I hadn't even taken the coffee yet.

"Nothing," I said, "I'm just waiting for my card, he has my card, this is his first day and he has my card, I don't have any money, he has my card, I just wanted some strong coffee." "Yeah you fuckin' nit, you think you're a smart guy or somethin' not carrying any money just the card, you think you're probably so smart for not being robbed don't you fuckin' prick, tell you what I'm gonna buy this fuckin' store with your money," he said, waving his gun at me. I just wanted the coffee, he caught me glancing at it.

"And you know what, I won't even let you have your fuckin' morning coffee you asshole, coming here all swanky no cash an' all, you prolly thought I looked like a robber dintcha even before I started robbin' and all prob'ly thought ooo this guy looks dangerous I betta stay away from him by the looks of you," he said, as he snatched my coffee from the counter. "Tell you what," he said looking at the cashier. "Give me all the money in the register, and charge this guy a thousand bucks, I'll take whatever the fuck you got, anything that'll fit in my backpack," he said.

The young man looked helplessly at me. "Go on," I said, "it's gonna be fiine."

"Finally come to your senses, haven't ya mr. smartass I don't get robbed, now you see our way. And here's your fuckin' coffee, you'll be a thousand quids lighter and won't get your mornin' hit," he said, as he took a test sip of my cup. It wasn't too hot, so he gulped down the entire cup. He slammed the cup in front of me, empty. "There you go, master, 'ave a good day!" he said in his best British sort of impression, I didn't know what he was doing.

There was seventy dollars in the register that morning, the morning consignment was yet to arrive. He grabbed maybe fifty bucks worth of cheap candy and stashed it all into his backpack, took a few six-packs of beers, and ran out.

"I'm so sorry," the cashier said, "I can undo...the charges".

"No worries," I said, "Why don't you do an inventory and find out how much he took, besides the cash. Charge it all on my card."

"I can make another coffee for you," the terrified young man suggested.

"Nah, I'm fine, I'll be back to check my receipt later," I told him, "don't think need the coffee now. I've gotten my hit for the day."

I walked out of the store slowly. That'd be the least I could do for that poor fucker. I'd spent how much, seventy dollars in the deepest darkest corners of the internet to acquire the pouch of powder give me the most painful and terrible death, impossible for the doctors to revive me they said because they'd never know what it was. The Universe had convinced me otherwise. It was looking to be a good day.