(cont'd)
Continuing his fantasy rampage, Fonseca thrust the shotgun deeper into Pays-With-Pennies Guy's mouth, causing the muzzle to protrude through the smoking exit wound in the back of his skull. He then cocked the shotgun's pump action by working the slide against Pays-With-Pennies Guy's lower jaw and aimed the weapon at the Diet Coke-Buying Bitches. The wealthy sorority sisters stood paralyzed by the sheer force of personality of Fonseca's daydream-avatar, a fierce version of Fonseca with whom people do not fuck. Fonseca fired once, and the single bullet, an exotic 2.5-ounce rifled anti-personnel slug the cashier had previously employed in several undercover-Mossad-agent fantasy scenarios, pierced all three of the Diet Coke-Buying Bitches' skulls, killing them instantly and causing them to slump to the floor in a grisly, tank-topped heap.
Fonseca then abandoned the image of the shotgun and drew a pair of matte black high-capacity .50-caliber Desert Eagle automatic pistols from his memories of playing Tomb Raider. Emerging from behind the counter, he walked toward the deli case and cornered the Deli-Bell-Ringing Fat-Ass, a Stop 'N' Shop regular whose insistence on immediate service and precise sandwich assemblage had for months meant hellish Sunday nights for Fonseca.
In his mind, Fonseca then shot Deli-Bell-Ringing Fat-Ass in two-handed, double-gun, John Woo-style, driving the bullets into his victim's gut with such force that the Deli-Bell-Ringing Fat-Ass was propelled over the glass deli case, forming a helical trail of blood behind him as he twisted through the air and came to rest face down on the Stop 'N' Shop's Hobart-brand automatic rotary slicer. The impact activated the slicer, which had been left on the thinnest setting, and Deli-Bell-Ringing Fat-Ass' face was shaved into ribbons.
Guns in hand, Fonseca proceeded to take a cathartic, imaginary march through the store. Heading first to the coolers, he encountered three of his least favorite customers, Individual-Sticks-Of-Margarine Woman, Underage Dude Who Always Tries To Buy Beer Even Though We Always Fucking Card Him, and Guy In The Bathrobe And Flip-Flops Who Comes In Like Three Times A Night To Buy Ben & Jerry's. Employing Matrix-style rotating slow-motion and Wild Bunch-inspired multiple viewing angles, Fonseca pictured himself firing dozens of shots into each of the three, smiling slightly as they flew back through the glass doors of the cooler cases, their bullet-riddled bodies animated in a grisly dance as electricity and freon coursed through them.