[ WP ] Dark blue eyes peered behind tiny , white knuckled hands . `` Give it back . '' Said the boy , his gun quivering .

Randy Dwayne Aaron. That was the name his mother had given him. That was the name on his birth certificate. On his driver's license. On his warrants. But anyone who knew him called him Stick. 
 
 While Stick *was* thin, his build had nothing to do with his nickname. No, Randy Dwayne Aaron was reborn as Stick at a gas station in Houston when was 13. He and his girlfriend Rosalba had been coming down from their crack high and Randy Dwayne Aaron wanted to go back up. All it took was pointing a pistol at the clerk and demanding all the money. Afterwards he had joked with Rosalba about sticking the place up and she christened him Stick. 
 
 All that remained of Rosalba was a gnarled prison-tattoo of the outline of a rose on Stick's chest. While Stick was in prison, his cousin James Aaron Davis had delivered the news that Rosalba had died of a heroin overdose. James did not deliver the news that Rosalba had been turned to prostitution or that her pimp had dumped her body at the emergency room before speeding off. 
 
 But that was then, and this is now. 
 
 Stick is currently standing in another gas station, this time in Elk City, Oklahoma. He has another pistol with him, and the gas station is being robbed, but not by Stick. This time it is Trevor William Jones, a slight youth of 14. 
 
 Trevor is demanding the money from the clerk, Susan Carroll Tilton. Susan is nervously trying to comply. An older couple are shuffling about the other side of the store seemingly oblivious to the felony being committed in their presence. Stick is not oblivious. He is standing off to the side, simply staring at Trevor. Trevor yanks the bag of money from Susan so hard it flys, lands, and skids to stop at Stick's feet. 
 
 Stick laughs at the bag. 
 
 He bends down and picks it up, but Trevor has turned on him. Dark blue eyes peered behind tiny, white knuckled hands. 
 
 `` Give it back,'' said the boy, his gun quivering. 
 
 `` Why?'' 
 
 `` Fuck you,'why'?! Give it back!'' 
 
 `` No.'' 
 
 `` Look dude, I do n't want to --'' 
 
 Stick threw the bag of money into Trevor's face, where it exploded into a snowfall of dollar bills. Trevor recovered and pointed his gun at Stick. Stick walked forward and slapped Trevor across the face. Trevor's gun went off as he reeled back, the bullet hitting the floor. Susan screamed from the floor behind the counter. Trevor stood bewildered and terrified as Stick grabbed the gun and flung it down the aisle. 
 
 Trevor turned to run, but Stick kicked his legs out from under him. Stick was on him in an instant, using his legs and his weight to pin the youth to the floor. 
 
 `` IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?!'' Stick yelled at him. Stick scooped a fistful of cash up and began stuffing it into Trevor's helpless face. `` DO N'T YOU GET IT?! NO, YOU LOOK AT ME, YOU DUMB LITTLE SHIT! NOTHING GOOD CAN COME FRO --'' 
 
 The gunshot rang through the gas station. Susan screamed again and covered her face. Stick slumped over against the base of the counter. Trevor squirmed free and ran out the door, the cash long forgotten. 
 
 Henry Don Martindale was a Korean war veteran, a retired farmer, father of 4, grandfather to 7, and standing over Stick with a gun in his hand. His wife, Katherine Elizabeth Martindale stood behind him. 
 
 Stick moaned, his eyes slowly rolling up to find Henry. 
 
 `` Oh Jesus, Hank, he's still alive!'' Katherine said. 
 
 Henry raised the pistol at Stick. Stick could only blink at him, slow and heavy. `` Well he does n't look like he's going anywhere,'' said Henry. 
 
 Stick reached up to put his hand on his chest to touch his tattoo. He pulled his red hand away and thought of Rosalba. 
 
 -- -- -- -- 
 
 EDIT: Fuck you, tenses.
