I mean, we could've surrendered

A 233 word, one sentence, flash fiction piece.

                Had it not been for that m**********r Harlin--the same irresponsible cooze who forgot to disable the alarm--we wouldn't be staring down the barrels of fifty armed cops who would love nothing more than to pepper us with small rounds fire--and trust me, friend, we have done everything in this city to deserve a good shooting--so I think it's best to keep all pleasantries aside and just shoot our way out, maybe grab a hostage from the bank lobby and load up our assault rifles and handguns and submachine guns, and strap on our kevlar and ski-masks and just run out balls blazing--I'm sure a bank teller or a fat security guard would soak up a lot of bullets like a big blubbery bullet sponge--Harlin won't even wait though, he's already grabbed some guy in a suit and tie--Armani I think--and is dashing out the double doors blasting away at the cops with his hand-cannon--he said something along the lines of "forgive me" before he went out--Harlin and hostage's body do a little one two dance step as they're riddled with bullets, I turn to the others and tell them to load up--moment of truth I think, but if you're going to die young ya' better die hard--No more running, we go down guns blazing as we race out the front door. 

Reviews

[Emma Berman]

This is cool! It is an actual story, not a poem or musing. It's awesome that you got an entire story into 233.