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Guns, Drugs & Thugs: Drug Store Spree
Guns, Drugs & Thugs: Drug Store Spree
Guns, Drugs & Thugs: Drug Store Spree
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Guns, Drugs & Thugs: Drug Store Spree

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11:00 AM, August 14th: Three thugs cruised through the parking lot of a shopping mall in a small North Georgia town of the southeastern United States. A sawed-off shotgun laid under the driver’s seat. The black handle of a semiautomatic pistol protruded from the waistband of the shotgun rider’s pants. Another gun stretched across the back seat and floorboard at an angle. A merciless August sun bore down on the Dodge Charger as the thugs eased by the line of stores on the right side of the car. The rumbling of the headers on the 440-magnum echoed under the canopy where patrons strolled before entering stores. A REVCO drug store sat at the end of the long-line of businesses. I’m one of the thugs, a retired thug.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateFeb 1, 2017
ISBN9781370078028
Guns, Drugs & Thugs: Drug Store Spree

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    Guns, Drugs & Thugs - Wayne T. Dowdy

    Wayne T. Dowdy

    Guns, Drugs & Thugs

    Drug Store Spree

    Though Categorized as Fiction

    Truth Dominates its Content

    Wayne T. Dowdy

    Murder Slim Press published a former version of Guns, Drugs and Thugs: Drug Store Spree

    Savage Kick Magazine, #9, 2017

    GUNS, DRUGS AND THUGS

    DRUG STORE SPREE

    Copyright © 2017 by Wayne T. Dowdy

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

    Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters are totally from the imagination of the author and depict no persons, living or dead; any similarity is coincidental.

    Self-published by

    Wayne T. Dowdy

    Atlanta, Georgia

    Email: dowdy.wayne@yahoo.com

    GUNS, DRUGS AND THUGS

    DRUG STORE SPREE

    11:00 AM, August 14th: Three thugs cruised through the parking lot of a shopping mall in a small North Georgia town of the southeastern United States. A sawed-off shotgun laid under the driver's seat. The black handle of a semiautomatic pistol protruded from the waistband of the shotgun rider's pants. Another gun stretched across the backseat and floorboard at an angle. A merciless August sun bore down on the Dodge Charger as the thugs eased by the line of stores on the right side of the car. The rumbling of the headers on the 440-magnum echoed under the canopy where patrons strolled before entering stores. A REVCO drug store sat at the end of the long-line of businesses. I'm one of the thugs, a retired thug.

    Nathan drove the car, I rode shotgun, Rodney sat in the backseat. Each of us had been awake for days, me for over three weeks, other than a four-hour Quaalude-induced-nap. I pointed toward a bank in the far-left corner of the plaza, beside where the parking lot met the road. When we come out, we'll go that way, I said. Any cops should come from the other direction. As we drove by the drug store, I glanced inside to check the layout. Nothing seemed any different than all the other REVCOs. After we passed by, we checked out the route we'd take when leaving, especially if pursued by the law. No one liked that thought, of course, but I had prepared for it by buying a clip-fed, bolt-action, twelve-gauge goose gun with a thirty-six-inch barrel, the gun taking up space in the

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