Frank has a plan to get free ice cream. However... [Cramp entry for 07/21/19].
Frank Branson shuffled his feet, his nervousness preventing him from standing still. He'd been planning this ever since he'd heard the local weathergal say, "It's going to be in the 90s today. I could tell you folks, it's going to be 92 or 95 or 98 but, really, if the temperature starts with a nine - what's the difference?" That's all Frank had needed to hear. It was going to be hot, and that meant ice cream. The fact that he had absolutely no money wasn't going to stand in his way this time. The item in his jacket pocket would take care of 'payment'.
Brenda had been working at Ma & Pa's Ice Cream Emporium for over a year, and figured that she'd seen just about every type of customer there was. The guy second in line, though, made her uneasy. His eyes darted all over the shop, repeatedly checking out the few patrons in the seating area, rather than eyeing the frozen treats in the display cases or studying the menu board. He also seemed to be very interested in the foot traffic on the other side of the shop's windows, and stared hard at any car that pulled in to park nearby. What bothered her most of all, though, was that he was very jittery, he was wearing a fairly heavy jacket in 90-plus degree heat - and his right hand was concealed in a jacket pocket. Well, she thought, odd or not, a customer's a customer.
"Hi! What can I make for you today, sir?"
"Single-scoop vanilla cone."
"Great choice! Just a sec."
Brenda grabbed a cone and pulled the scoop from the holder. Bending slightly, she filled the scoop and settled it firmly into the cone.
"Here you are, sir, one s-"
Brenda fell silent. The customer's right hand was now visible, and the revolver it held was pointed directly at her. In her peripheral vision, she saw all the other customers scatter, except for one man. He quietly moved up behind Frank, who was totally focused on Brenda.
"I'll take that!" snarled Frank. "Don't follow me!"
He had half-completed his turn toward the door, when a blurred arm came whistling past his head to slam into his wrist, sending the gun flying. Another arm arced around his neck, an unseen foot kicked both of his out from under him, and Frank was down.
"Officer Davis, ma'am. Go ahead and call 911, I've got this guy." The big man had Frank's left arm in a bar lock, and was being none too gentle about the pressure. He looked down at his captive.
"You know today's National Ice Cream Day, right? The cone would've been free."