There's a pawn shop south of 54th Street, not too terribly far from Roseholme Cottage; too far for a convenient stroll, but within easy bike jaunt.
It's one of those chain pawn shops; the staff all perky, young, and dressed in matching corporate-logo'ed polo shirts. They don't sell firearms, and the staff certainly doesn't carry any; it's probably against corporate policy.
Yesterday morning, shortly before 11AM, two guys burst in waving gats and stuck the joint up. Fortunately, the only casualty was one employee who broke for the exit and got a cap busted, quite literally, in his ass as he headed for the horizon.
I've been in there quite a few times, checking out the DVD or video game selection. Having seen the nature of some of the clientele, who mostly look like a casting call for extras in Get Rich or Die Tryin' II, frankly I'm surprised it's taken this long for the place to make the six o'clock news. I mean, it's not like there's any danger of anyone shooting back.