1970 Amoco Promotional Transistor

They had rehearsed it every night for a week. It was a simple plan. Pull up to the gas station in their 65 Mustang. Fill up the gas tank in order to reduce suspicion. She had come up with that one. She thought it was very clever. Who else could have thought of filling up before robbing the place? Then slowly walk in, slip on the pantyhose masks at the door, brandish the 22, take the money from the till, slowly walk back to the car, then drive away.

Easy.

Simple.

They had practiced it. They had rehearsed it. Over and over.

Not once had they talked about hitting the brakes, backing the ‘Stang back up to the station, and going back to into the office.

Not once.

They had gone over a lot of different scenarios.

What if someone else is in the office?

What if there is another car?

What if the attendant refused to open the cash register?

Plus, she had made up four different escape routes.

Had rehearsed them all.

And now?

Now what?

He was going back in?

This was not part of the plan.

She knew he was too dumb to execute this plan.

She had made it as simple as possible.

But he was too dumb.

Took her two days to convince him that putting on women’s pantyhose as a mask was not going to be interpreted the wrong way.

Interpreted by whom.

Jesus, he was dumb.

What was he doing in there? What was taking so long? This was not part of the plan.

He finally came out of the gas station, grinning ear to ear. He was holding a blue transistor radio.

He waved it at her.

“Free with fill-up,” he said getting into the driver’s seat.

“Ok,” she said, shaking her head.

“We filled up,” he argued, “you get a free radio with every fill-up.”

“Ok,” she said, “what took you so long?”

“Well,” the sounds of the sirens interrupted his reply. Then flashing lights from the other direction.

“Which way?” he asked. He hadn't paid attention to the escape plans. They were all too complicated.

“Doesn't matter,” she said, “just tell me why it took so long.”

He pulled off to the side of the road and stopped the car.

“They gave me the yellow one,” he said. “But I already had the yellow one. He had to go to the back to get the blue one.” He held it up.

And she said, “ok,” as the police cars surrounded them.

The End