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Not sure who first coined the phrase crime doesn't pay. But, one thing's for sure, 

whoever the hell said it was a fucking genius.

Incidentals by Patrick Cooper

“Hey boss, it’s me. Everything went off smooth.”

“No problems?”

“None. It was just like you said, in and out.”

“And nobody got hurt?”

“Not a hair on anyone’s head. Honest to God. It was like they wanted to get robbed.”

“That’s fine. And where are you now?”

“At the warehouse. We just finished counting everything. Christ, it’s a lot.”

“What’s a lot?”


“More than we expected then?”

“Ho yeah.”

“And the van?”

“Torched it under the highway. All like we planned, boss.”

“Very good, Harry. And you’re to burn the jumpsuits and masks, right?”

“Steve’s doing that right now, yeah. Everything’s taken care of. There’s a barrel out back he’s doing it in, then we’ll toss the guns in the river.”

“Very, very good, Harry. Now remember my cut is $75K, okay?”

“Of course. I’m not gonna haggle over the take. If it was a bitch, maybe I would. But this was a cakewalk.”

“Good. So it’s 75 for me, and you and Steve split the 50.”

“25 each, yeah we know.”

“Not bad for a morning’s work, ay?”

“Got that right.”

“Of course there are the incidentals.”

“…I’m sorry?”

“Expenses, Harry. It was part of the deal. I hand you the job, provide all the details, you rip it off and cover the incidentals.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at, boss.”

“I’ll talk slower. I did all the research, provided you with all the details, and bankrolled the whole thing with my own money. All you had to do was walk in, wave a gun around, and walk out with the bags.”


“The jumpsuits, for instance. They were cheap at $150 a piece.”

“They were comfortable, I’ll give you that. But slow down a sec…”

“The gorilla masks were $75 a piece.”

“Are you serious?!”

“It is Halloween time, Harry. I suggested ski masks, like a normal person, but Steve insisted on the gorilla masks.”

“Fucking Steve.”

“If it was after Halloween maybe the masks would’ve been on sale. The combat boots, which you insisted on, were $120 a pair…”

“I wanted the good kind, like we had in the army.”

“And that costs money.”

 “Jesus Christ, you’re using a printing calculator right now aren’t you? I can hear it.”

“The printing calculator was $89.”

“Now wait a goddamn second…”

“The burner phone you’re talking on was $550.”

“I could’ve used my own phone! I told you that!”

“Harry, you own a flip phone. Welcome to 2015, my friend. You needed one with a GPS app in case you got lost. Everyone knows these new iPhones are the best.”

“Can I at least give it to my kid? She’s been begging for one.”

“Absolutely not, it has to be torched when this call is over.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“The guns. Now they weren’t cheap.”

“Of course not. You wouldn’t let me use my father’s old service pistol.”

“Please Harry, act like a professional. The guns I bought special off my guy in Rhode Island. They came out to a nice round number. $500.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“A piece.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“The walkies, which I still think were pointless since there were only two of you, they cost $120 each.”

“Fucking Steve.”

“Finally, the van. I bought it from a guy in New Hampshire who sells clean cars to dirty people. That set me back $22,000.”

“I don’t even make that in a year.”

“Well now if you split the rest…your take comes out to…$12,715 and fifty cents each.”

“That’s half of what we were supposed to get.”

“Which is not half bad for a morning’s work. I’ll see you at the drop tomorrow night.”

“Yeah, see you.”


“Hey Steve.”

“All the shit’s burned up. What’s going on?”

“Did you toss the guns yet?”

“Not yet, why?”

“You know the boss’ address?”

Patrick Cooper is a writer hiding from student loan vultures in Orlando. His crime fiction has appeared in Thuglit, Shotgun Honey, Spinetingler, and Dark Corners. He's a member of the Florida Film Critics Circle and his movie reviews can be found at Bloody Disgusting and the Orlando Weekly. He'll have a ginger ale, thanks.