Warning: Not for the faint of heart!

Oh, Bleep!
By Rainywhether

“Gimme everything in your cash drawer,” he snarled, a 22 snub nose aimed at Gracie's face.

“I think I'm gonna throw up,” she said gagging. A red and brown spew discharged from her bewildered lips drenching the lone gunman in last night's spaghetti dinner.

“What the bleep!” he yelled, “I got a date later!” His hand shook, as he scrunched his face and again pointed the weapon at the minimum wage worker.

Gracie stammered back and waved her palms as if she were landing a jumbo jet.

“Please,” she cried, "Don't! I'm sorry.”

Not in a forgiving humor, the gunman squeezed the trigger. But only an impotent click resonated throughout the convenience store.

“You broke my gun!” he screamed, scrutinizing the barrel with his good eye.

But the bullet's expulsion had not be thwarted, just delayed. The explosion knocked cans off the shelves and the gunman onto the unpolished vinyl.

As if on cue, a woman in a green bikini opened the front door and walked casually to the counter stepping over the body and avoiding the collateral mess.

“Oh, my,” she said flatly, dramatically flinging her hand to her forehead and staring into the security camera, “Is that a dead person shot in the face right there on the floor?”

“It-it-it just happened,” Gracie stuttered. “He came in...I threw up...he...”

“I'd like one of those Right-by-Reynold's glow-in-the-dark key chains, please,” the voluptuous customer cooed pulling cash from deep inside one of her D cups.

Still shaken, Gracie unlocked the case beneath the cash register where the store kept its most precious items.

She handed the authentic, polypropylene-encased key chain to the lady.

“That'll be $18.89 with tax,” Gracie said.

“Eighteen-eight-nine! Oh, my bleepin' God,” the customer screamed, “What a value!”

As if on cue, the front door flew open. A well-tanned man high-stepped his way into the establishment.

“Hey, ho! America!” he sang, his eyes on the security camera and a smile illuminating his face.

Gracie screamed, “Aren't you Dankin Posey?”

“I am, little lady. And what is your name?”

“Gracie Smith. I can't believe it...Dankin Posey.”

He grinned as his eyes studied the man sprawled on the floor and then looked up into the camera.

“Yes, and you, Gracie Smith, are on Blown Away, the Fox reality show where every week someone is shot in the face.” He presented her with a single lily and she wept.

The End
Love it.... absolutely love it.
Thanks, app...that really means a lot to me...really!
What a BLEEPING good idea for a Reality Show!

Fantastic, rainy! 
Rainy I will buy your book of short brilliant fiction - when is it going to be out? Loved the bleeping story!
Wow rainmaker...you have quite a fan club! Can I be your agent? lol
I love your stories Rainy. What a gift you have. A book of your short stories is in order. Speaking of order count me in. 
Thank you so much...if that ever happens, you will be number 1 on my list
  Susan George silently cursed the rain as she cut off the minivan as she headed south on Meridian, towards downtown Idy, the wipers clicking to John Coltrain. Susan thought, "why does it wait until Friday to do this?"  She was headed to her loft, the new Condos meant to look old in downtown Indy. 
 Susan George had it good, really good, she had her BS in Mgt from Ball State, she had a great job in Carmel and no doubt,.
 Susan's genius had not figured out yet that she lived downtown, and drove out to the suburbs for work.
  At 32, Susan was single, and loved it. She was cute, grown up cute, and never lacked attn from men. If you could not help Susan rise, well do not ask.
Tonight, as often, Susan and her buddies wanted to go out and hit some men. Upon coming home Susan turned the key and wondered where puud was. Puud was always there, purring around her ankles and letting her know he was not a bad cat for tearing anything apart tonight. Heading into the bedroom, she tossed the jacket into the stuffy chair. She admired her body and watched herself in the mirror. 
Then she froze:
 In an instant her whole world had changed. There was a man standing  5 feet from her with a gun pointed at her face. "No shaky moves, no yelling, nothing he said"
 Susan had no time to register fight or flight, she looked at her phone, her purse, her keys with pepper spray,  anything she could work with.
her legs were turning to rubber, her knees weren't working right, her breath began coming in short, erratic clumps. She saw her past, her present, her future, her everything flying by like a runaway train.
She looked at her intruder,
'if you sit down and relax, you will be ok
'she had no choice at the moment but to play along with him.
when she glanced at the doorr she noticed his eyes darting around, encompassing  everything with uncanny speed. almost like some small animal, trying to feed, watching out for the slightest movement that could signal it's death. 
he noticed her and calmly said, if you try, you will die,
  Susan George had to visit with a psycopath that night. Her parents were doing fine at dinner. Susan noticed the Black Forest Clock her parents gave her, at 9;30 Susan was dead  
whoa TAZ
I enjoyed that very much Rainy... Bleepin hell your good!