His Own Small Store

he's just an old man... working behind the counter of his own small store for forty years... the young toughs kept robbing him... grabbing stuff off the shelves and running... threatening him, and the old woman... till they lived in fear day and night... then they went too far! coming across the counter and grabbing him by the collar: 'give me the money, old man! ' quick, and sudden, the gunshot rings out... the young tough falls to the floor in a puddle of blood... now the old man's going to court for excessive use of force, and an unregistered handgun... to the halls of justice, sterile and cold... the stench of dignity dying fills the air... and the hands on the clock cant be turned back!