Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah

Nader glared at Raphael, silently mouthing an F-bomb as time unfroze. In a blink, Raphael seemed to teleport to the back of the gas station minimart, where he stood at the hot dog roller . . . getting another hot dog?

“Wh—” the robber began.

Nader was still on the ground, where he had crash-landed after getting pistol-whipped. He looked back toward the register to find both the robber and the cashier staring at the robber’s now-empty hand.

Nader turned to Raphael, who was crouched and inching his way forward. He gave Nader a proud thumbs-up.

“What the hell is this?” the robber shouted, patting himself down for the gun. All he found was his folding knife. He snapped it open and pointed it at the cashier. “Hurry up!”

The cashier flinched as she placed the last of the cash into the duffel bag that the robber had thrown at her just a moment ago. She turned to grab cigarettes like he’d requested, but the robber quickly snatched the bag and ran out the door.

Raphael ran up to his best bud. “Dude, you’re bleeding. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Nader’s head throbbed. He looked at his best friend and whispered, “Where’s the gun?”

“In the hot dog thing.” Raphael jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the back of the store.

The cashier was on the phone with 9-1-1, her voice shaking as she explained what had just happened and that a customer was bleeding.

Nader leaned in closer. “Can you stop time again?”

“I think so. I got hungry so it stopped working, but right before that I ate like five more wieners, but maybe it needs to digest or something a bit?”

“Yeah, okay, dude, listen. You need to stop time right now, get the gun and wipe off your fingerprints, but try to only wipe where you touched it, so his are still on there. Then put it on the floor next to where the robber was standing, come back, and crouch right here exactly like you’re crouched right now, so that the cashier lady doesn’t freak out. Got it?”

“Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah, lemme go poop first.”

“Dude!”

“Just kidding,” Raphael said, scrunching his face and then opening his eyes. “Done.”

“Really?”

Nader glanced toward the register. The gun lay on the floor, tucked off to the side, near where the robber had been.

“Yup! And look, I made you a flavor-bomb hot dog too. Quick, eat it before she charges us for it.”

“I’ll pass,” Nader said, rolling his eyes.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Raphael sat down and took a bite of the overloaded hot dog. “Oh, these are for your forehead.” He handed his friend a pack of wet wipes that he’d snatched from one of the aisles.

“The ambulance is on its way. You okay, sweetie? Don’t fall asleep. You could have a concussion.” The cashier knelt to get a better look at Nader’s forehead, grimacing at his injury.

“I’ll survive, thanks.”

“You’re all out of hot dogs, by the way,” Raphael said as he took another big bite.