"Raiders of the Corner Pharmacy:" An Indiana Jones Tale

Posted by Jon from 1Cust120.tnt8.ewr3.da.uu.net on July 10, 2001 at 18:35:33:

Raiders of the Corner Pharmacy
By
Jonathan McDevitt

New York City – July, 1989

An elderly man, about 90, made his way out of the elevator of the large apartment building, in which he lived with his daughter. He wore a brown jacket, and vest. He walked with a slight limp, and carried a cane. He wore glasses, but only needed them for one eye. For on the other, rested a black patch. He seemed like a man of the world, a man who had seen it all. A weather-beaten face rested on a pair of old, yet strong shoulders. On his head, covered in silver hair – sat a fedora.
He had lived with his daughter here in New York for four years now, and had become known around the neighborhood as the wise old storyteller; the man
who always had a tale to tell for every situation. Whenever he walked down the street, people would come to him with their problems, not so much for a solution, but in hopes for a story. Many a time, he had sat on the stoop of
his apartment building and told neighborhood kids of his travels, of his experiences in World War I, and of his adventures.
Today he was on his way to Ned’s Pharmacy to pick up a prescription. He exited the building and started onto the street. Ned’s was just at the corner of the block. However, to man of 90, that’s a bit of a walk. (Considering, also, that it was a very long block.) Walking with his slight limp, and leaning heavily on his cane, he made his way down the block, and finally arrived at Ned’s Pharmacy.
He entered the store, and the door made that little jingle sound that most shop doors do.
“Hello Henry,” said Ned, the store’s elderly shopkeeper.
“Hi Ned” the man replied.
“The usual today?” Asked Ned.
“Pretty much,” the man said, as he pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket.
“Only there is one thing -” he said, referring to the
prescription.
As he said this, he was cut off by two figures that burst into the pharmacy door wearing ski masks. The one that came in first held a gun, which he pointed at both the shopkeeper and the man.
“Alright!” He screamed, “Nobody move and nobody gets hurt! Just put the money in the bag.”
As he said this, his accomplice went up to the counter and handed the shopkeeper a paper bag. No one moved.
“DO IT!” The criminal screamed even louder. He was, by this time, standing right behind the old man.
The man coughed. This was followed instantly by a remark from the gunman.
“You got a problem old man?!” He snapped.
The man said nothing.
“Hey! I’m talkin’ to you gramps!” He snapped again, “you know, it’s polite to speak when you’re spoken to!” he continued in a despicable tone.
“I don’t need to talk to the likes of you,” the old man growled back at him.
“Oh that was the wrong answer, old man!” he yelled, shoving the gun in the old man’s back. “Now I’m gonna blow your #@&*ing guts out!!” he continued in a demonic tone, his eyes almost bugging out of his head with anticipation.
The old man, remaining calm, spoke up.
“I don’t think so.” He said softly.
“What!!?” The gunman screamed at the top of his lungs.
“I said,” started the old man in a calm tone, which didn’t last, for just at that moment he took his cane and rammed it into the chest of the gunman, which caused him to drop his gun and tumble onto the ground, in pain, unable to catch his breath. “I,” he picked up the gun that the man had dropped, and pointed it at it’s owner on the floor. “Don’t,” he quickly turned around in time to catch the other criminal heading for the door. He was just about to open it, when the old man retrieved a bullwhip from his belt and snapped it
at the door. It struck the handle and wrapped around it. The old man pulled the door shut, trapping the robber inside. “Think so.” He finally finished.
Everything was still. No one moved. It was as though time was stopped. The one criminal on the floor, at the mercy of the old man; the other, stopped in his tracks right at the door; money bag in hand.
“What the hell?” The man on the floor said in an astonished tone, still not quite comprehending what had just taken place.
“You’re only as young as you feel,” the old man said with a smile, still holding the gun on the shoplifter.
“Who are you?” said the one by the door.
"That’s none of you’re business.” Replied the old man. He turned to the shopkeeper, “Ned, call the police.”
Ned slowly nodded his head, as he slowly reached for the phone, at no moment taking his eyes off the scene in front of him.
In a few moments the police arrived, sirens blasting, lights flashing, and the robbers were taken into custody. Ned, eagerly willing to tell the story of what just occurred, happily hummed the tale to the police. The old man however, was less enthusiastic. He quietly got his subscription, and started for the door.
“Wait!” Cried a young policeman, “are you the man that stopped the robbery?”
The old man, just about out the door, stopped and turned around.
“Just a bystander,” he mumbled; and then walked away, laughing quietly to himself.

The End

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"Raiders of the Corner Pharmacy:" An Indiana Jones Tale (Correction) Jon 21:13:49 7/10/2001 (1)
- Marveleux! B.L. 05:24:27 7/17/2001 (0)

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:                      Raiders of the Corner Pharmacy
:                                   By
:                            Jonathan McDevitt

: New York City – July, 1989

:    An elderly man, about 90, made his way out of the elevator of the large apartment building, in which he lived with his daughter. He wore a brown jacket, and vest. He walked with a slight limp, and carried a cane. He wore glasses, but only needed them for one eye. For on the other, rested a black patch. He seemed like a man of the world, a man who had seen it all. A weather-beaten face rested on a pair of old, yet strong shoulders. On his head, covered in silver hair – sat a fedora.
:    He had lived with his daughter here in New York for four years now, and had become known around the neighborhood as the wise old storyteller; the man 
: who always had a tale to tell for every situation. Whenever he walked down the street, people would come to him with their problems, not so much for a solution, but in hopes for a story. Many a time, he had sat on the stoop of 
: his apartment building and told neighborhood kids of his travels, of his experiences in World War I, and of his adventures.
:    Today he was on his way to Ned’s Pharmacy to pick up a prescription. He exited the building and started onto the street. Ned’s was just at the corner of the block. However, to man of 90, that’s a bit of a walk. (Considering, also, that it was a very long block.) Walking with his slight limp, and leaning heavily on his cane, he made his way down the block, and finally arrived at Ned’s Pharmacy.
:    He entered the store, and the door made that little jingle sound that most shop doors do.
:    “Hello Henry,” said Ned, the store’s elderly shopkeeper.
:    “Hi Ned” the man replied.
:    “The usual today?” Asked Ned.
:    “Pretty much,” the man said, as he pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket. 
:    “Only there is one thing -” he said, referring to the 
: prescription.
:    As he said this, he was cut off by two figures that burst into the pharmacy door wearing ski masks. The one that came in first held a gun, which he pointed at both the shopkeeper and the man.
:    “Alright!” He screamed, “Nobody move and nobody gets hurt! Just put the money in the bag.”
:    As he said this, his accomplice went up to the counter and handed the shopkeeper a paper bag. No one moved.
:   “DO IT!” The criminal screamed even louder. He was, by this time, standing right behind the old man.
: The man coughed. This was followed instantly by a remark from the gunman.
:    “You got a problem old man?!” He snapped.
:    The man said nothing.
:    “Hey! I’m talkin’ to you gramps!” He snapped again, “you know, it’s polite to speak when you’re spoken to!” he continued in a despicable tone.
:    “I don’t need to talk to the likes of you,” the old man growled back at him.
:    “Oh that was the wrong answer, old man!” he yelled, shoving the gun in the old man’s back. “Now I’m gonna blow your #@&*ing guts out!!” he continued in a demonic tone, his eyes almost bugging out of his head with anticipation. 
:    The old man, remaining calm, spoke up.
:    “I don’t think so.” He said softly.
:    “What!!?” The gunman screamed at the top of his lungs.
:    “I said,” started the old man in a calm tone, which didn’t last, for just at that moment he took his cane and rammed it into the chest of the gunman, which caused him to drop his gun and tumble onto the ground, in pain, unable to catch his breath. “I,” he picked up the gun that the man had dropped, and pointed it at it’s owner on the floor. “Don’t,” he quickly turned around in time to catch the other criminal heading for the door. He was just about to open it, when the old man retrieved a bullwhip from his belt and snapped it 
: at the door. It struck the handle and wrapped around it. The old man pulled the door shut, trapping the robber inside. “Think so.” He finally finished.
:    Everything was still. No one moved. It was as though time was stopped. The one criminal on the floor, at the mercy of the old man; the other, stopped in his tracks right at the door; money bag in hand.
:    “What the hell?” The man on the floor said in an astonished tone, still not quite comprehending what had just taken place.
:    “You’re only as young as you feel,” the old man said with a smile, still holding the gun on the shoplifter.
:    “Who are you?” said the one by the door.
:    "That’s none of you’re business.” Replied the old man. He turned to the shopkeeper, “Ned, call the police.”
:    Ned slowly nodded his head, as he slowly reached for the phone, at no moment taking his eyes off the scene in front of him.
:    In a few moments the police arrived, sirens blasting, lights flashing, and the robbers were taken into custody. Ned, eagerly willing to tell the story of what just occurred, happily hummed the tale to the police. The old man however, was less enthusiastic. He quietly got his subscription, and started for the door.
:    “Wait!” Cried a young policeman, “are you the man that stopped the robbery?”
:    The old man, just about out the door, stopped and turned around.
:    “Just a bystander,” he mumbled; and then walked away, laughing quietly to himself.

:                               The End

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