Why Fund Nasa

it felt like walking in a supermarket for its cold stale air, i didn't like the music they played in the store, so i'd use his cheap headphones. the kid at the register goes to the same school i do, his dad owns the place, guess his kid works with him during the summer. i think his name is Alfred, not sure, but he seems to like electronic a lot. he give me a slight nod, i returned it, then proceeded to the fridge. i stare at the glass door for a few seconds, pondering how i should hydrate myself in this scorching day as jimi hendrix played his solo. i zone out for a bit, then i eventually just took a root bear and a juice box. i turn around and it seems there is someone with a gun in the store, pointing it at the register, then i realized this guy is trying to rob the store. fuck this day. the thief didn't seems to notice me, but i observed him. he was a lanky, pale looking teen. His hand was quivering pointing the gun at the cash register, alfred was obviously afraid, but didn't seems to notice how afraid the thief was himself. for some reason i felt calm, in peace, focused; as if i were the one stealing the store. i didn't think of doing anything but my feet were moving already, my hand held the glass bottle of root beer by the neck and smashed it to his face. the gun dropped, and the thief fell soiling his hoodie with blood. i held his neck, look deep into his eyes with the broken glass to his neck. the urge to cut his throat was strangely over-whelming, but the thought of the blood on my hands made me stop and let go of his throat.