The Spirit of Taking (Christmas 2019) - Out of the Gutter Online

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Tuesday, December 10, 2019

The Spirit of Taking (Christmas 2019)

By Alec Cizak


“Bring me a bird,” said Marsha, “or don’t come home.”

Now, Lester sat in his 1984 Cutlass, freezing despite the best efforts of the car’s factory-installed heater. The engine grumbled in the cold. The Oldsmobile shook every now and then, as though brushing snowflakes off its bumpers. He’d been enjoying classical music on the radio. A college student interrupted the broadcast. Reminded the audience they had three days before Christmas. In a voice suggesting he’d never struggled in his life, the kid said, “Get your shopping done before the big rush tonight! I know I will!”

Lester kept his eye on the liquor store across the street. A constant flow of people stopped in to load up on booze for their weekend parties. The take in the register and safe might last until Easter. He lit an unfiltered Camel and turned up the volume on the radio as the college student spun a tin-sounding recording of Beethoven’s Third.

A digital clock mounted on the dashboard read 4:37. Not long before the store closed. He planned to wait until about ten till and duck inside. He’d loiter near the beer coolers and wait for the clerks to insist he make a purchase or hit the road.

And then he would rob the joint.

He used a Smith & Wesson .38 for his work. No bullets. Never once needed to pull the trigger. Gas station and liquor store attendants knew loyalty to no one but themselves. Gave up the money without a hassle.

Then he noticed a thin young man, maybe nineteen, lurking near the mouth of an alley just behind the store. He had no gloves, no cap to keep his head warm. He peered around the corner, looking at the parking lot. And pulled a .22 from the front of his pants.


“Son of a ….” Lester smacked the steering wheel. His door creaked as he shoved it open. Bone-rustling wind whipped snowflakes in every direction. Crossing the street, Lester lowered his head anytime someone passed in a vehicle.



Approaching the young man, he smiled and offered his hand. “Good evening.”

“What do you want, gramps?”

Lester resisted the urge to punch the kid in the nose and be done with it. “Couldn’t help noticing,” he said, “you look like you want to knock this place over.”

The youngster paced deep into the alley and darted back. “What are you talking about?” His eyes bulged like a cartoon character’s after a conk on the noggin with a mallet.

“It’s all right, kid.” Lester held his hands up, worked to keep the boy from putting his finger around the trigger of the .22. “I don’t mean to be rude, but this here’s my gig, you understand?”

“Look, you damn fossil, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Lester sighed. “I’m fifty-four years old. Someday, if you’re smart, you will be too.”

The kid seemed confused.

“Let’s get back to the issue. I’m hitting this store, you got it? There’s a Village Pantry just up the road. I’m sure they’ll have a nice haul in the register. What do you say?”

“I’m not walking all the way to Broad Ripple. Not in this weather.”

“Where’s your car?”

The boy laughed. “I can barely afford rent on a studio apartment. How the hell could I make notes on a car?”

Something stirred near Lester’s heart. “How often do you work?”

“Lost my job two months ago.”

“Let me guess,” Lester said. “The wife is pregnant?”

“Wife? Do I look stupid?”

He shrugged.

Girlfriend, man, my girlfriend’s pregnant.”

“Right, right.” He rubbed his forehead, tried to hush his conscience. “Look, kid, what I mean is, how often do you rob places like this?”

The boy stared at his feet. Said nothing. Didn’t need to. No sense for them to team up. With an amateur involved, chances were good Lester would go to prison and Marsha would find some other schmuck to get her a turkey.

“I feel your pain, son.” He didn’t face the young man as he spoke. “Problem is, I got a woman at home who’s going to tear me a new one if I don’t get some dough and bring back a bird for the holidays, you dig?”

The kid pointed the barrel of the .22 at him. Lester felt like an idiot for not seeing the move ahead of time.

“Now you listen to me, gramps.” His finger tapped the pistol’s trigger guard. “This is my take.”

Lester put his hands up. “At ease, junior.”

“Beat it!” The kid nodded toward the street.

Lester sighed. “All right.” He could have nabbed the gun. The dummy barely had a grip on it. For whatever reason, he decided to let the youngster take a stab at a new career. Maybe, he decided, the kid would get himself arrested. Nice warm meal in the bucket might do him some good.

He ducked into his Olds, fired it up, and drove to Broad Ripple. The convenience store promised danger. Excellent surveillance cameras. The safe often proved too difficult for the halfwit cashiers to open.

Through the static on the radio, Beethoven’s Ninth, as performed by the Milwaukee Volunteer Orchestra, crackled over the factory speakers mounted in the doors. Lester slowed on 64th Street and parked across from the Village Pantry.

A few minutes into Beethoven’s masterpiece, a Chevy Astro pulled into the lot. A woman exited the driver’s side. She opened the sliding door on the side and four kids piled out. A frozen turkey they’d probably picked up at the Kroger’s on Guilford tumbled onto the iced-over pavement and rolled under the van. Mom wrangled her critters and mushed them into the store. She shut the van and locked it.

Nobody, it seemed, had seen the turkey. Lester hustled across the street. He got down on the frozen ground and scooped it into his arms. He wrapped his jacket around the bird and ran back to his car.


“There’s your feast, baby.” He threw the Butterball onto the passenger seat. As he hurried home, the Milwaukee Volunteer Orchestra mustered all the fire and passion they could to bring the Ode to Joy to its raucous conclusion.

Alec Cizak is a writer and filmmaker from Indiana. His books Down on the Street and Breaking Glass are available from ABC GroupDocumentation, as well as on Amazon. A collection of weird fiction titled Lake County Incidents is scheduled for release in late 2019. He is also the editor of the fiction journal Pulp Modern.