It’s early on Christmas Eve and the three animal rights activists enter Harry’s Furs on George Street in downtown Guelph. Harry’s alone in the store. Sid, Elliot and Johnathan don’t look like they could afford new coats let alone furs. Johnathan, hidden by the other two locks the door behind them. Thunk, click, the tumbler goes unnoticed. Harry comes out of the back of the shop glasses on top of his balding head holding several pieces of paper, and, sliding the glasses down with a wrist flick, takes in the dishevelled trio with a squint: “Can I Help You?” he says half enquiring,
“Elliot. Grab him.” Sid is the first of the three to speak.
Elliot is quick to act and strides across the store to Harry, taking him by first one then both arms and twisting them up behind Harry’s back. A roll of duct tape falls out of Elliot’s coat pocket and, hitting the ground seemingly in slow motion, rolls back across the floor to stop at Johnathan’s feet.
Johnathan pauses looking at the tape for a second before picking it up. When he does all four men have a surprised look on their faces, Harry’s mouth widens in his otherwise serious stare and utters, “What the fuck?” twisting to snarl at Elliot. Johnathan bolts across the room with the tape, pulling off a large enough piece to press against Harry’s mouth, stopping any further emissions.
“Nice,” says Sid ironically. Harry is struggling against Elliot’s grip as Johnathan starts to wrap Harry’s hands and wrists, rolling the grey sticky tape to the elbows.
“Stop moving old man,” Elliot tells Harry, giving him a shake, now in total control of his capture, “We don’t wanna brake anything.” Elliot is the stockier of the three -well muscled and uses it to his advantage to control Harry.
Sid moves forward to the register and takes out the small metal bar he brought and slips one of the ends into the cash drawer seam which gives way immediately. He turns to the others who have now sat Harry down in a chair, working the tape around his torso so he’s stuck fast.
“There’s no money!” Sid yells. The other faces turn from their prey to look at Sid.
“What do you fuckin mean there’s no money,” exclaims Elliot. “This guy’s rich!” All three would-be robbers turn to Harry. Sid moves to stand beside the chair and in one motion tears the tape from Harry’s face.
“Ah Fuck,” Harry grimaces. “What the fuck’s goin’ on. I don’t have any money in the cash after Theresa takes it to the bank at two. Let me go!” but Sid quickly slaps the tape back over Harry’s mouth. Harry mumbles something inaudible.
“Shit. Shit. Shit!” Elliot stomps, “I new something was going to fuck up.”
“Shut up,” Sid replies, “Let me think.”
“Let’s just get out of here.” begs Elliot. “ Scrap everything. This is fucked up.”
“Yeh, let’s go.” Johnathan adds in palpable fear.
“No. We came to a job and we’re going to finish it. There’s a lot riding on this you don’t know and we can’t leave without somethin.” states Sid. “ Look, take the old man into that closet and Johnathan, roll down the front blind. Put the closed sign up.”