Cletus looked at Coober for inspiration. Finding none, he looked back at the store keeper. He put down the jerry can, smiled his most winsome smile, and smoothed down an errant curl of his black hair. Then, as non-threateningly as possible, he took a step toward the store keeper.
"Stay away from me!" the man warned Cletus, who instantly backed off again. The gun was raised more purposefully as the man took a step backwards himself.
Coober stepped into the fray now. "Please... We don't want no trouble. We just need some gasoline and we will be on our way. We, ahem, can't pay, but if there is an odd job you need doing, perhaps we can do that in return?"
Cletus was aghast. "Odd job ?" he squawked. "We don't got time. We gotta go."
"Fine." said Coober. "As soon as he shoots you dead, you can be on your way. All right?"
"Please mister. Just give us a job. We'll do it and be on our way. Promise!" said Coober before Cletus could put his foot in it again.
The store keeper looked suspiciously over at Cletus. Coober, he trusted - to a point. He looked at him as he spoke. "You filled the bike already?" Coober nodded. "I have a ditch that needs clearing out. You do that, I won't tell the law you was here, but the Jerry can stays. I ain't made of money."
"Fine." said Coober, interposing his body in front of Cletus. "Out the back?" The man nodded. "We'll get right on it." Coober said, stripping off his jacket in readiness.
Around the back, there were shovels and pitchforks. He took a shovel and gave Cletus a pitchfork. "Be quiet and we might get out of here" he said.
© Copyright 2012 Raylan (UN: njmckeo at Writing.Com).
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