“Late Night Robbery” Flash Fiction By Paul Kindlon

“Late Night Robbery”: Flash Fiction By Paul Kindlon

Paul Kindlon, author of Pain Killers, has published a growing collection of short stories and flash fiction, 9 poems, 30 polemics, a brief Memoir and a collection of Aphorisms. The complete collection of flash fiction by Mr. Kindlon on Mystery Tribune including Etiology of a Tragedy and Matryoshka can be viewed here. Mr. Kindlon lives somewhere in New York State.


My life has been one disappointment after another.

I grew up alone with my single hippie Mom Abby. When I reached an age where I finally got up the courage to ask who my father was, she replied “I don’t know….Napoleon!” and then laughed like Shirley MacClaine.

On my sixteenth birthday she gave me hot cocoa and ice cream cake followed by a present.

I unwrapped the box and looked inside.

“Mom! Extra large condoms?”

“Don’t worry…you’ll grow into them”, she said

When I finally got my B.A. in Greek Mythology after six years of serious struggle I knew I was pretty much screwed. And my student loan debt was like a sword of Damocles swinging like a pendulum over my head.

Tough times call for tough guys.

“Mom! Extra large condoms?” “Don’t worry…you’ll grow into them”, she said.

I never saw myself as a criminal, but I was about to do something decidedly unlawful.

Knowing there was a well-to do neighbor down the street, I decided I would rob him and his exotic Roma wife of both money and jewelry. At gunpoint. A cliché I know, but I was desperate.

Rule number one of robbery is “don’t get caught”.

Rule number two is “use lethal force if necessary”

I always follow the rules, but I was hoping to skip number two.

To make sure I would not be recognized I hatched a clever plan.

On the day of the robbery after I bought a gun and bullets, I went to “Lola’s Costume Shop” and purchased a Halloween mask of Vladimir Putin. Very menacing I thought. As I approached the home of my victims I kept practicing lines appropriate to the circumstance at hand.

At exactly 10:30 P.M. Mister moneybags himself opened the door.

I pushed him inside and looked around for any unwelcome guests.

I went to “Lola’s Costume Shop” and purchased a Halloween mask of Vladimir Putin. Very menacing I thought.

“What do you want?!” he said on cue.

It was then that I pulled out the handgun and uttered my lines with a terrifying Russian accent “Geeve me your money or I vill keel you and your Gypsy vife!”

My victim immediately bent down, touching his knees, and began laughing hysterically.

This was not going according to script.

He then grabbed a note pad, sat down, and began furiously scratching away.

“This is crazy!” he screamed in delight.

You’re telling me.

He explained that he was a comedy writer and was late with a deadline. “I’m going to use this!

he told me. “I was at my wit’s end…couldn’t come up with a good idea. You saved my life!

If I hadn’t produced a new skit by midnight Lorne would’ve killed me!”


Our free digital archive of flash fiction including other stories by Paul Kindlon is available here. Additionally, premium short fiction published by Mystery Tribune on a quarterly basis is available digitally here.

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