I'm SICK of Being BERTHA!!!!!!!!!!.........Part 12

It's a long one this time, guys!! :D I'm almost done, so there will probably be only one more part after this...I'm gonna miss writing this story :(.

At 11:15 that night, after her parents had finally gone to bed, Bertha snuck out of the house. “Déjà vu,” she muttered, thinking about the last time she’d done this. But this time, things were different. For one thing, she’d been smart and worn underwear under her clothes. She’d decided to wear her dad’s black sweater over a pair of her mom’s old black sweatpants. Inside the pillowcase she carried with her was the Scream mask her little brother had worn one Halloween, an envelope to hold the 1000 dollars she would soon be getting—and a gun.

Bertha tried to act normal as she approached the local Gas-in-Go downtown. Instead of using the main streets, she’d taken a series of dark alleyways that wove through the city. “The last thing I need is a bunch of perverted men checking me out on my way to rob a gas station,” she thought, rolling her eyes. She whipped out the mirror she carried with her at all times now to make sure she looked OK. “These sweats are majorly unfashionable…then again, I make anything look good.” Even though she was about to put on a mask, she whipped out her make-up bag and touched up her lipstick and mascara for the next several minutes. Suddenly she heard someone coming. She quickly threw the make-up back into her pillowcase and ducked behind a dumpster, banging her knee as she went. The loud noise echoed off the walls around her. “Hey, I reckon’ some buddy be back in this here alley!” a voice called out. “If they is, they best go on and git! This ain’t no Holiday Inn.” Bertha figured the owner of the voice probably had a mullet and about 6 teeth. “Who does this trailer-trash hick think he is?” Bertha scoffed to herself. “He obviously has no idea who he’s speaking to.” Still, she wished he would go away. She didn’t have any time to waste playing hide-and-seek. She needed to put her plan into action, and she needed to do it soon. She heard some rustling in the dumpster. “I really hope he takes his sweet time because that would be just great,” Bertha thought sarcastically. “He’s probably digging around for dinner in there.” After what seemed like an eternity, Bertha was relieved to hear Mullet-Boy’s footsteps retreat into the darkness. When she was sure the coast was clear, she stepped out from behind the dumpster and put on her mask. She hurried around the corner, pausing a few feet from the main door to the Gas-in-Go. “This is it,” she thought, drawing in a shaky breath. “It’s now or never.” She pulled the gun out of her pillowcase and marched through the sliding glass doors.

A surprised-looking cashier put his hands up the instant he saw her. She pointed the gun at his head. “Gimme all the money in the cash register, NOW…umm…Mark!” she screamed, squinting at the name tag pinned to his T-shirt. “I’m not here to play games. I need 1000 dollars minimum. Move, move, MOVE!!” Poor Mark silently fumbled to open his register, his hand shaking from nervousness. As she waited, Bertha surveyed the rest of the gas station. It was relatively late at night, and the only other people inside were an elderly couple and a pregnant woman. All of them seemed afraid, and acted like they weren’t quite sure what to do with themselves. “I said HURRY UP!!” she barked. What time was it? She hadn’t been able to leave her house until 11:15. She knew she had to hurry. The cashier had gotten his register open by now and was frantically counting out money. “Come on, retard, my senile grandma moves faster than you! I don’t have all day!” She cried, keeping an eye on the other customers, who were still standing around like a bunch of idiots. “As for you inbreds,” Bertha sneered, making a sweeping motion across the room with her gun, “stay right where you are. I’ll deal with you later.” She hurried over to the front doors and locked them so that no one else could come in and see what was going on. By the time she made her way back over to the cashier’s stand, Mark had finally counted out all the money in his register. “I-I-I’m sssorry,” he stammered, “I don’t h-have 1,000 dollars in here, ma’am. I only have 981!” Bertha sighed loudly. “Well, Mark, how are we going to solve this?” she asked in mock politeness. “Because I didn’t ask for 981 dollars, did I? I asked for 1000!” With that she grabbed him roughly by the shirt and threw him against the wall. She pulled his wallet out from his back pocket. “Ohhh, Marky…” she said, “why didn’t you tell me about this twenty you had stashed away? How are things ever going to work between us if you hide things from me?” She grabbed the money and stashed it into her envelope, along with the other 981 dollars. She now had 1001 dollars—enough to pay off whoever that freak was that had blackmailed her, with a dollar left over. Now that she had what she needed, all that was left to do was take the necessary precautions so she could be sure no one called the police. Grabbing Mark by the wrists, she pulled out a piece of rope from her supply bag. She tied his arms and legs together as tight as she could. Next she grabbed the pregnant woman, keeping the gun pointed at her head as a constant reminder of the power she held. One by one, she tied up all four of the witnesses before turning out the lights, re-locking the door, and hurrying off.

After she’d gone around the back of the building, she pulled off her stuffy mask, hoping her make-up hadn’t gotten smeared. She wondered what time it was. “Why didn’t I bring a watch?” she thought, kicking a beer can out of her way as she jogged down the alley. Suddenly she noticed the town clock, towering above the streets in the middle of the city. “12:18!” She cried. “I’m late!” She broke into a run, ignoring the pain in her knee from where she’d hit it on the dumpster. Luckily, her school wasn’t too far away from the Gas-in-Go. She made it there in three minutes after running non-stop. Breathlessly, she made her way around the back towards the big oak tree, the envelope full of money waiting in her hand. But suddenly she stopped in her tracks. Startled, she scurried back behind the corner of her school. There, in front of the tree, was a person—digging around in the hole she’d been instructed to put her money in! “That must be my blackmailer!” she thought. “They must have figured I already put the money in the hole, since I’m a little late, and now they’ve come to get it!” She peeked around the corner and strained to get a look at the person’s face, dying to know who was behind all this. But they were mostly hidden behind the tree, and the lighting wasn’t that great in the first place. It did appear to be a male, though. She pressed her back against the wall and prayed that whoever it was would step out into the light. “I’d love to get my hands on the gerbil-brain that did this to me,” she thought darkly. “This loser must have absolutely no life if they have nothing to do but go around blackmailing popular beauty-queen types like me.” She peeked around the corner again. This time, to her astonishment, the mysterious person walked out from behind the tree. She covered her mouth, trying to stifle the cry of shock that found its way out of her throat. Bertha would have recognized that face anywhere. Before she realized what she was doing, she had already leaped out from her hiding place and was running towards him, an accusing finger pointed in his face. “You!” she screamed, her heart pounding wildly, her finger shaking in anger. “How could you ever do such a thing to me, Milbert?!?” He laughed a cold, unfeeling laugh. “Bertha, Bertha, Bertha. This is hardly any repayment for what you did to ME. Breaking up with me like that in front of the whole school…” Bertha struggled to hold back her tears of anger. It wasn’t fair!! It wasn’t her fault she had better taste in guys than stupid Milbert. “I date one loser in a moment of temporary insanity and it haunts me the rest of my life,” she thought bitterly. Aloud, she said, “Well, you’ve got your stupid money. Take it and go, and don’t ever talk to me again.” Milbert laughed for the second time that night. “I’m afraid not,” he said calmly. “I may have the money, but I’ve decided that’s not enough. I think I’m going to turn you in anyway, just for fun,” he said with a snort. Bertha stood and stared at him as if were an alien that had just landed in front of her. “WHAT?!?” she screamed, unable to control the rage building up inside her. “Are you kidding?! I gave you the money! We had a deal!!!” Bertha was ready to kick something. Milbert was obviously enjoying this. “We never had a deal, Bertha,” Milbert said. “I just told you the circumstances that you were supposed to follow. I’m calling the shots here, remember?” He glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s getting late. I’m tired…I think I better get home to bed. Maybe I’ll come visit you in jail some time,” he said as he turned to walk away. Bertha couldn’t believe her ears. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Milbert was supposed to have taken his money and kept the pictures to himself, so that she could go on living her life of popularity. And that was SUPPOSED to be the end of it. She could feel her blood-pressure rising. Her hands clenched into fists. “You’re NOT getting away with this!” she screamed. She couldn’t let him get away. Not now! Milbert turned around and smirked. “And how are you going to stop me, Bertha?” he asked. Bertha thought fast. Quickly, she reached into the pillowcase she was still hauling around and pulled out her gun. “Like this,” she hissed, aiming the gun at Milbert’s radish-shaped head.

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