Mack always looks like a train wreck. His hair is neither cut nor combed. During cool weather he wears a dirty, beat-up old raincoat and sneakers. Wherever he goes, people always remember exactly what he looks like — that’s not exactly the way a robber should dress.

This day, Mack walks into a convenience-type store downtown. The store’s always busy, so he has to stand in line before he can rob the place.

When it’s finally his turn, Mack puts his hand in his pocket, grabs something under the raincoat (like a gun) and announces a stickup. The cashier opens the cash drawer, grabs a roll of pennies and throws it at him. When the roll hits Mack in the face it breaks open and pennies fly everywhere. Not knowing what to do next, Mack panics and runs.

He darts across the street right in the middle of heavy traffic. Tires screech and horns blare. One car knocks Mack down with a glancing blow.

With Mack flat on his back, a woman in a Volkswagen drives over the hapless man. The driver is so upset she slams on the brakes — then backs up — rolling over Mack a second time.

Now traffic has come to a complete stop. Mack is still down, and obviously hurt. He tries to get up but can’t. Then he reaches into his raincoat pocket to get his gun — and accidentally shoots himself in the leg.

By now the police have arrived. A pedestrian yells, "He’s got a gun!" Two cops, guns drawn, ease over toward Mack who’s now drifting in and out of consciousness.

Hours later Mack wakes up in a hospital bed wearing one of those gowns that’s wide open in the back. There’s a cast on one leg (where he shot himself) and bandages over most of the limbs on his skinny body.

A cop holding a clipboard stands at Mack’s bedside. "Let’s just say, fella, this was not your day."