Land of Nod. E. V. Olievich

in my right pocket. After coffee, you can have a smoke. Good tobacco ol’ Morrison sold me. I’ll have to remember to buy some more next week. Well, I reckon the clock struck. Yes, that’s right, it’s three o’clock. Now I gotta keep our eyes peeled; those damn brownskins could show up at any moment. Yeah… It’s gonna be a rough night, rough… I gotta walk around a little bit to stay awake. It’d be a hoot if I fall asleep and those bastards rob my warehouse! No, they won’t get away with it that easy.

      Wait a minute. What’s that noise at the end of the street? Was it somethin’ I heard? No, it ain’t. It’s like someone’s sneakin’ around. Where’s my 1897? Right here, dear. The important thin’ is to stay outta the streetlight. One casual move and the bastards’ll shoot me. Another rustle. How many of ‘em are there? Looks like just one. Could it be a lone thief? No way. No, as if there’s only one. They’ve lost their conscience. They think they’re immortal. They think they can single-handedly rob honest Firenzicans. It’s comin’. Hell, yeah, he’s comin’. Sneakin’ along the wall of the house at the end of the street, you son of a bitch. What, you didn’t make it till 3 a.m., so you came early? Son of a bitch. Maybe I oughta try to scare him off. Let’s see what he does. Why ain’t I scare him? Especially if he’s alone. Or should I wait? No, I could try to scare him off.

      “Stop! Who’s comin’? Say your name!” He ain’t talkin’. He ain’t movin’. It’s like I hear rustlin’ again, only more muffled.