my senior year story.
Worker Bees
Alex Bernardini
The Drone
There is a place I like to go. I go here when I need to clear my mind and get away from the millions of thoughts that race through my head in a single second. This place is a public place, yet it is all mine. I will share this place but only because, to them, it is just a place. It is not a spot of secret worship or tranquility, to them, but to me.
Here I sit on the lazy, cotton soft grass, that will support me for my time here. From here I can see all the activities of the park, there is no higher spot then here. I watch them all as if I can control them. They are but mere insects from here. The shade of the surrounding trees hides my identity. Here, I am hidden, I am nothing, yet I feel as if I am all.
I come on Tuesdays, usually. This is right after the blade of the lawn mower strikes down the towers of grass. Like a bleeding wound, the scent and pollen of the grass bust out of its freshly hacked ends. The remains from the massacre are left behind to temporally act as my bed. There is just enough sun coming through the tress to keep me gently warm and occasionally a cloud will pass by to cool me off again.
The sound of children on see-saws is carried to me by a light wind. These cries only add to the music that is being created around me with the full of life birds, aimless wind and the sluggish stream.
I’m not at that place, now. I’m a single gray speck amongst a grid sea of quadrangle specks. I have a single computer where a single line blinks waiting for my next thoughts on this year’s profit margins. All the time while I sit here doing this my superior, the man I do this for, is in the copy room with the new intern Stacy.
Here they come now. He always looks so pleased with himself, so accomplished after there lunch time lover relationship is over. “Another day of not getting caught, excellent job Bob, keep up the good work.” That’s what he’s saying to himself now.
I can’t blame him, he needs something to get the blood pumping threw his veins to keep him alive, to let him know he is still alive. It’s more feeling then what I have experienced.
They’re passing my desk now. Stacy continues, he stops, why did he stop?
“Hi, Bob, how are you today?” I said to break the awkwardness of him standing over me.
“Goood Jim, but I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you.” Bob’s voice was still relaxed from his accomplishment moment before in the copy room.
“More marginal reports? That won’t be a problem.”
“No, there won’t be anymore reports actually. We’re letting you go.” He’s voice and words were here but I could tell his mind was still in the copy room.
“Oh, any reason in particular?” My voice was filled with defeat, no use in fighting to keep a job I hate.
“We just felt you weren’t adding to the Globex team 110 percent,” I could tell his mind was back now, and he wanted to get out of this awkward situation as fast as possible, “so this isn’t a two week notice but here is your pay for the rest of the week and you can leave today.”
He handed me an envelope and then scurried away to his corner office with the view of the park. I put the envelope in my inside jacket pocket. The closest thing to my heart, money, but I have no one and nothing to share it with.
I have nothing in this office. I’ll just go deposit this, my love.
It’s nice outside, sunny, warm, breezy. I’m not used to the outdoors midday during the week in the city. I could barely see natural light from my position on the office floor, let alone take a breath of air that hadn’t been recycled through the building. Like the air in the building, you can’t own money, you share it with everyone. Your deposit is my withdrawal, your lost dollar on the floor, my Coke from the vending machine.
No, I will not give you my change you street swine, I worked for this I am not going to contribute to your liquor fund and watch you decompose in your cardboard coffin.
The bank is crowded and busy with the routine transactions and exchanging hands of money. I can see my reflection in the black marble floor. I’m starting to get gray hairs. I’m only 35 how can this be happening to me, what do I have gray hair from. I’ve never done anything in my life worth getting gray hair over. As I’m looking at my reflection, something catches my attention.
The man behind me, there was tube like piece of metal dangling out of the bottom of his jacket. It is the end to an M-16. He’s going to rob the place. Here’s my chance to do something worth getting gray hair for, I can be a hero. I can save the bank millions and possibly peoples lives. I can also get killed, and what has this bank or anyone in it ever done for me?
“Everyone get down this is a robbery”
The Bum
“Spare some change sir? No, God bless anyway…” These people walk by me in their hundred dollar suits and their ten dollar coffees flaunting it to show me the success I will never have. Can’t spear some change? You give the yuppie teenager that makes your coffee a three buck tip but you can’t give me fifty cents? This is what’s wrong with our country, one nation under the dollar. That’s all anyone cares about how to get as much money as fast as they can for themselves. “I’m gettin’ tired of this Dan.”
“What’s that, Joe?”
“I’m getting’ sick of doing this. Having to sit here and beg for something I know is never comin’.”
“An ya know why it’s not comin’?” The hippy in Dan’s voice was coming, I could tell he was getting for one of his government bashing rants.
“Why isn’t it coming, Joe?” I say to feed his appetite and only pretend to be interested.
“’Cause the man, man! It’s the man that put us here and it’s the man that’s gonna keep us here!”
“Dan’s, there is no man, and there aren’t any aliens or people comin’ to get you.” I say to try and claim him down. I didn’t want him to start yelling but I could tell it was coming. It was no use stopping it.
“They got to you didn’t they! Don’t worry I’m prepared for these kind of situations, just bend over and let me remove the prob.”
“No! Stop that! In all seriousness, I don’t feel like doing this anymore, I think I’ m gonna just kill myself.” I say this as if I’m already dead.
“What? Why?” Dan said this as if he was surprised that I was a bum and wasn’t enjoying it.
“My life is pointless; I have nothing to live for, no money, no job, no family, no friends, no happiness.”
“Granted your life sucks, but why kill yourself? Why not go out with a bang, or have someone else do the job for you?”
“Wouldn’t I have to pay for someone else to kill me?”
“No, man the cops shot at me a bunch of times. You see that bank over there? Go in and make like it’s a robbery, this way if you make it out you have lots of money, if you get caught you go to jail where there is food, shelter and all the man sex you can ask for, and if you go down in a hail of gun fire, you get to die like a movie star.”
“That’s actually not a bad idea, beside the man sex.”
“Suit yourself, just stick it to the man any way you can. No pun intended.”
“What do I rob it with?”
“Just pretend you have a bomb and ask for money.”
Dan’s idea wasn’t half bad, it was a win, win situation, “Ok, I’ll be back in about 10 minutes with the money, we’re splitting 50/50. Wish me luck!” I was going do it, I was going to rob the bank.
I crossed the street and entered the bank as if I was one of the Wall Street business men except I was dressed in a torn wool poncho. There is only one security guard by the door and he is eyeing me. It’s that bastard that didn’t give me any change. I should take his wallet first but then before I could do anything.
“Everyone get down this is a robbery”
The Amateurs
“One hundred thousand dollars, and thirty nine cents. How is it possible that I could owe that much? It was only twenty thousand a year for four years. It should only be eighty thousand!”
“That’s what you get when you take out a college loan from a loan shark instead of a FASFA. Ya, know John, there’s a reason they are called loan sharks and not loan butterflies, or loan puppies.” Mike said this with such a mocking tone I wanted to hit him, but then I relized that would be stupid, were brothers, best friends, plus I was kind of an idiot.
“Ok, I fucked up, so his interest rates aren’t what he promised, and he ‘lost’ the contract-”
“Lost? Contract? You signed a cocktail napkin and your calling that a contract?”
“It was an Olive Garden napkin; he said it was binding, he said it was special! The Olive Garden is Italian, I figured it ment something.”
“John, get a hold of yourself. This is no time for arguing we need to figure a way we can get this money by tomorrow” Mike was right,
“Mike you’re right, we need to stop playing the blame game and start finding a way for me to get out of this certain death.”
“Right… well, we can’t ask mom or dad because that would be worse then facing the loan shark. We don’t own anything worthy enough for collateral.” Our small lower east side, furnished with the latest fashions in lawn furniture, was not even worth taking into consideration for collateral, and this is all we owned. I had to think of something.
“What if we went to the bank?” I had an idea.
“And what get a loan? Are you kidding me, with you credit it would never happen.”
“Not ask the bank for money, take it from them.” Genius I thought.
“You want to rob the bank. Genius. This way, we won’t only have the mob on our asses but the cops too, that is if we did it without getting caught or killed in the process.” I detected a hint of sarcasm in Mike’s voice.
“How would we get caught, New York is a huge place, banks get robed all the time here.” I needed to convince him it was a good idea.
“Suppose we were to rob a bank, how would we do it, where would we get the supplies. You need the money by tomorrow; these things take months of planning.”
“I know a guy, Franky G, he could hook us up with some big ass guns, well not bigger then these guns,” I flexed my huge biceps, “This guy is amazing, he could get us the stuff by noon.”
“That’s two hours from now, besides we need a plan.” He was almost convinced.
“Don’t worry; Franky G’s got it covered.”
Two Hours later
There was a knock at the door, not just an ordinary knock, the knock that children use when entering a familiar room: it was Franky G’s knock. I got the door and standing in the hallway was a scrawny boy almost. He was wearing a long black trench coat to match his black shirt, pants and boots. I couldn’t see his eyes because he was still wearing his black sunglasses to match his black crew cut and goat tee.
In his hands and strapped around his back were a total of four purple guitar cases.
“What’s with the purple?”
“They were out of black, this was the closest color.” His voice sounded like he had been smoking since the day he was born.
“Come in, you can put your stuff down on the table.” I hurried over to clear the magazines and cereal bowls from the table.
“Now I understand you are in a tight situation,” he went over to the windows looking through the blinds down to the street, “I don’t have much time, neither do you.”
“Why, what is it?”
“No time to explain. I also understand you don’t have any money or collateral for these weapons so here’s the deal: I keep your wallets and you swallow these tracking devices. After the robber you are to run to the warehouse two blocks south of the bank. I get 15% of what you get,” This man knew what he was doing, “Also, you each only get one bullet each, the rest will be blanks, this is your emergency bullet.”
He handed Mike and me the real bullets, we each put it in our breast pockets knowing or at least hoping not to see it again.
“What do we do about the cameras? How do we keep them from calling the cops? How do we get them to give us the money?” Mike asked, always having to be a kill joy and make me realize the flaws in every situation.
“Don’t worry about the cameras, the people will be too scarred to think about calling the cops, plus they will be too busy getting your money for you to worry about calling the cops.” Franky G replied with a smirk on his face, I had one too, Mike didn’t.
“You really do have this all planed out.” I said, reinforcing my trust in Franky G.
“That’s why they call me Franky G.”
“I thought it was cause your name is Frank Gallhouse?” Mike said trying to understand Franky G’s coolness.
“Well, yea. Ok so grab those ski masks and get on your flat jackets and I’ll see you in an hour in the warehouses.”
As quickly as he had entered, he had disappeared.
“I guess we’re really doing this.” Mike’s voice was full of fear and anticipation.
“You bet your sweet ass we’re doing this. Lock and load mutta fucka!”
We walked to the bank in what seemed to be an eternity but was actually less then five minutes. The plan was we would walk in there with the M-16’s under our jackets and hand guns in holster around our wastes. We act like we are normal customers then when we feel its safe we get out ski masks on and let the mayhem begin.
“Are you sure you want to do this, its not to late to turn around.” Mike grabbed my arm preventing me from entering the bank.
“Do we really have that option, lets go.” I pulled my arm away and entered the building.
It took Mike what seemed to be an eternity but was only a minute to come in after me. I reached in my pocket for the ski mask. Mike saw this and followed suit. We drove our heads into the masks before anyone notices.
“Everyone get down this is a robbery.” I figured this would be a nice introduction to the crowd.
“No one try to be a hero, we are NOT here for your money. We are here for the banks money. Your money is insured by the FDIC.” Mike recited the technical part of the job for us.
“Now just you wait a goddamn minute.” A bum by the door screamed to us.
“Kiss the ground dirt bag or get a stomach full of lead, we don’t need a hero.” I watch to many movies. I have these intimidating lines memorized.
“I’m not trying to be no hero, I want that money just as bad as you do, in fact I was just about to rob this place before you too fancy pants showed up.”
“You can’t be serious, get back on the floor old man.” I demanded.
“You don’t believe me? Maybe this will convince you!” The bum ripped open his poncho. A woman on the floor screamed in the horror of what it could be.
“Those are rode flairs.” Mike told the man and to the people of the bank.
“NO! It’s a bomb!” The bum was determined to convince us.
“Nope, those are rode flairs, watch.”
“Yea don’t grab that it will go off!” Warned the bum but nothing exploded.
“You see this flame that I just lit here, that would make it a rode flare.” Mike said with a mocking tone.
“Ok, so it’s a rode flair, I still wanna rob this bank though!” You had to hand it to the bum he had determination, maybe if he applied this to everyday life he wouldn’t be a bum.
“Fine, you keep a look out for the cops and on the people, take this gun,” I threw him my back up 9 mm, “Mike, you take that teller and go to the safe I’ll get the-”
“Hey, if the bum gets to rob the bank with you then I want to rob it too.” A young, generic looking man in a suit, stood up with his hands in his pockets. It was the man that was in front of me in line. There was a tusk of gray hair that had fallen in his face.
“Yea, ok, and then maybe that guy can too, and how about that lady with the kids, you know what, lets all rob the bank, what do you say?”
“That’s a great idea!” A man laying face down on the ground yelled.
“I was being sarcastic, dumb ass.”
“No, seriously, I have nothing to live for anymore, I don’t have a girlfriend, I don’t have a job, no family, I have meaningless crap in my apartment but that is it. I need something worth living for something I can look back on when I’m older and say, ‘yea I did that, I was a rebel’. I need to live, I need-”
“Ok, fine you can rob the bank too, just take a gun and shut up. Mike, give him your 9,” Mike tossed his back up 9mm to the man. He was feeling a power and sensation that he has never felt in his life. He was a god with this weapon, he could make people do what he wants; he could take life, “oh one more thing,” I leaned over and whispered to him, “they are just blanks so don’t get us in a situation where you have to shoot someone.”
“Oh, ok.” The man’s since of power slowly faded but then he saw the fear on the faces of the prisoners in the bank and the power returned.
“John, take that bag and get all the money from the drawers, bum anyone coming?” Mike was taking control.
“Nope all clear.”
“Good, new guy, watch the crowd, anyone looks up give them a new hole in their head. You.” Mike pointed to a young blonde haired blue eyes trembling teller. A badge reading Stacy was pined on her silky white blouse.
“Me.” Heavy with fear, she struggled to get the word out.
Take me to the safe.”
“I don’t have the k-k-keys, I’m still in t-t-training.” The fear pushed her over the words; she was going to fall on her face if she kept this up.
“Well, sweetie you better gah gah gah-get the keys.” I’ve never seen Mike act so disrespectful to anyone let alone a girl, it was amazing.
“Bob, the manager has them.”
“So go to Bob and get them.” Mike was so demanding and controlling, “Good, now take me to the safe.”
“New guy, what’s your name,” since we are partners now I figured I would make friends to pass the time.
“Jim, you’re John I presume?”
“You would presume correctly. So you don’t have a job?”
“Yep, got my last paycheck right here.” Jim patted his breast pocket.
“Don’t you care what my name is?” the bum interjected.
“Not particularly, you’re just a-”
“What’s your name?” Jim cut me off.
“I’m Joe. My friends call me Joe Shmoe.” Joe said this with a slight chuckle as if he was saying an amazing joke to new friends.
“Well nice to meet you Joe, now if it wouldn’t be too much trouble could you please turn your dirty ass around and make sure we’re safe.” I had to put the bum back in his place.
“John, did you clear all the drawers?” Mike called to me as he came out from the back.
“Yea, you got all the money?”
“There’s two more bags, new guy, bum, go get them.” Mike absorbed his new found power threw the handle of the M-16.
“Mike, how much is there?”
“Well basically, we will be able to pay off the loan shark, and have about 5.4 million left over. We have cash, we have certificates, we have stocks, and we have bonds.”
“What about Frankie G.?”
“We give him the ten thousand he thinks he’s getting and tell him we only took what we needed.”
“And for our new friends?” I asked.
“The can take a million each,” Mike said this with great generosity in his voice, he should though, they wouldn’t have robbed the bank at all without us but we wouldn’t have robbed it successfully without them. Here I am talking like it’s all over when we have yet to leave the bank, “Common lets move out.” Mike demanded.
“We’re going as fast as we can.”
“You two take that bag and leave, you can share that. John, grab those two bags and lets go.”
As we walked out the revolving door into the busy New York streets a great wind of relief came over me. I also noticed something odd, the teller Stacy was winking at Mike and put her hand to her face like it was a phone, making the words “Call me” with her lips stick smeared mouth.
Home free.
Mr. Jim and Joe Shmoe
“How much is in the bag?” Joe asked eagerly.
“It’s about three million.”
“I can’t even count past twenty-four, what am I gonna do with all that money.”
“You don’t have a family, do you?”
“Nope.” Joe’s reply was empty like his heart.
“I say, we take this money, go to Mexico, start our own families and live like kings.”
“Our own families or our own family?” Joe was onto something.
“Ya know, they say that only about fifteen percent of relationships forged out of crisis last.”
“Well, babe, I don’t know what that means, but I like those odds…”
Alex Bernardini
The Drone
There is a place I like to go. I go here when I need to clear my mind and get away from the millions of thoughts that race through my head in a single second. This place is a public place, yet it is all mine. I will share this place but only because, to them, it is just a place. It is not a spot of secret worship or tranquility, to them, but to me.
Here I sit on the lazy, cotton soft grass, that will support me for my time here. From here I can see all the activities of the park, there is no higher spot then here. I watch them all as if I can control them. They are but mere insects from here. The shade of the surrounding trees hides my identity. Here, I am hidden, I am nothing, yet I feel as if I am all.
I come on Tuesdays, usually. This is right after the blade of the lawn mower strikes down the towers of grass. Like a bleeding wound, the scent and pollen of the grass bust out of its freshly hacked ends. The remains from the massacre are left behind to temporally act as my bed. There is just enough sun coming through the tress to keep me gently warm and occasionally a cloud will pass by to cool me off again.
The sound of children on see-saws is carried to me by a light wind. These cries only add to the music that is being created around me with the full of life birds, aimless wind and the sluggish stream.
I’m not at that place, now. I’m a single gray speck amongst a grid sea of quadrangle specks. I have a single computer where a single line blinks waiting for my next thoughts on this year’s profit margins. All the time while I sit here doing this my superior, the man I do this for, is in the copy room with the new intern Stacy.
Here they come now. He always looks so pleased with himself, so accomplished after there lunch time lover relationship is over. “Another day of not getting caught, excellent job Bob, keep up the good work.” That’s what he’s saying to himself now.
I can’t blame him, he needs something to get the blood pumping threw his veins to keep him alive, to let him know he is still alive. It’s more feeling then what I have experienced.
They’re passing my desk now. Stacy continues, he stops, why did he stop?
“Hi, Bob, how are you today?” I said to break the awkwardness of him standing over me.
“Goood Jim, but I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you.” Bob’s voice was still relaxed from his accomplishment moment before in the copy room.
“More marginal reports? That won’t be a problem.”
“No, there won’t be anymore reports actually. We’re letting you go.” He’s voice and words were here but I could tell his mind was still in the copy room.
“Oh, any reason in particular?” My voice was filled with defeat, no use in fighting to keep a job I hate.
“We just felt you weren’t adding to the Globex team 110 percent,” I could tell his mind was back now, and he wanted to get out of this awkward situation as fast as possible, “so this isn’t a two week notice but here is your pay for the rest of the week and you can leave today.”
He handed me an envelope and then scurried away to his corner office with the view of the park. I put the envelope in my inside jacket pocket. The closest thing to my heart, money, but I have no one and nothing to share it with.
I have nothing in this office. I’ll just go deposit this, my love.
It’s nice outside, sunny, warm, breezy. I’m not used to the outdoors midday during the week in the city. I could barely see natural light from my position on the office floor, let alone take a breath of air that hadn’t been recycled through the building. Like the air in the building, you can’t own money, you share it with everyone. Your deposit is my withdrawal, your lost dollar on the floor, my Coke from the vending machine.
No, I will not give you my change you street swine, I worked for this I am not going to contribute to your liquor fund and watch you decompose in your cardboard coffin.
The bank is crowded and busy with the routine transactions and exchanging hands of money. I can see my reflection in the black marble floor. I’m starting to get gray hairs. I’m only 35 how can this be happening to me, what do I have gray hair from. I’ve never done anything in my life worth getting gray hair over. As I’m looking at my reflection, something catches my attention.
The man behind me, there was tube like piece of metal dangling out of the bottom of his jacket. It is the end to an M-16. He’s going to rob the place. Here’s my chance to do something worth getting gray hair for, I can be a hero. I can save the bank millions and possibly peoples lives. I can also get killed, and what has this bank or anyone in it ever done for me?
“Everyone get down this is a robbery”
The Bum
“Spare some change sir? No, God bless anyway…” These people walk by me in their hundred dollar suits and their ten dollar coffees flaunting it to show me the success I will never have. Can’t spear some change? You give the yuppie teenager that makes your coffee a three buck tip but you can’t give me fifty cents? This is what’s wrong with our country, one nation under the dollar. That’s all anyone cares about how to get as much money as fast as they can for themselves. “I’m gettin’ tired of this Dan.”
“What’s that, Joe?”
“I’m getting’ sick of doing this. Having to sit here and beg for something I know is never comin’.”
“An ya know why it’s not comin’?” The hippy in Dan’s voice was coming, I could tell he was getting for one of his government bashing rants.
“Why isn’t it coming, Joe?” I say to feed his appetite and only pretend to be interested.
“’Cause the man, man! It’s the man that put us here and it’s the man that’s gonna keep us here!”
“Dan’s, there is no man, and there aren’t any aliens or people comin’ to get you.” I say to try and claim him down. I didn’t want him to start yelling but I could tell it was coming. It was no use stopping it.
“They got to you didn’t they! Don’t worry I’m prepared for these kind of situations, just bend over and let me remove the prob.”
“No! Stop that! In all seriousness, I don’t feel like doing this anymore, I think I’ m gonna just kill myself.” I say this as if I’m already dead.
“What? Why?” Dan said this as if he was surprised that I was a bum and wasn’t enjoying it.
“My life is pointless; I have nothing to live for, no money, no job, no family, no friends, no happiness.”
“Granted your life sucks, but why kill yourself? Why not go out with a bang, or have someone else do the job for you?”
“Wouldn’t I have to pay for someone else to kill me?”
“No, man the cops shot at me a bunch of times. You see that bank over there? Go in and make like it’s a robbery, this way if you make it out you have lots of money, if you get caught you go to jail where there is food, shelter and all the man sex you can ask for, and if you go down in a hail of gun fire, you get to die like a movie star.”
“That’s actually not a bad idea, beside the man sex.”
“Suit yourself, just stick it to the man any way you can. No pun intended.”
“What do I rob it with?”
“Just pretend you have a bomb and ask for money.”
Dan’s idea wasn’t half bad, it was a win, win situation, “Ok, I’ll be back in about 10 minutes with the money, we’re splitting 50/50. Wish me luck!” I was going do it, I was going to rob the bank.
I crossed the street and entered the bank as if I was one of the Wall Street business men except I was dressed in a torn wool poncho. There is only one security guard by the door and he is eyeing me. It’s that bastard that didn’t give me any change. I should take his wallet first but then before I could do anything.
“Everyone get down this is a robbery”
The Amateurs
“One hundred thousand dollars, and thirty nine cents. How is it possible that I could owe that much? It was only twenty thousand a year for four years. It should only be eighty thousand!”
“That’s what you get when you take out a college loan from a loan shark instead of a FASFA. Ya, know John, there’s a reason they are called loan sharks and not loan butterflies, or loan puppies.” Mike said this with such a mocking tone I wanted to hit him, but then I relized that would be stupid, were brothers, best friends, plus I was kind of an idiot.
“Ok, I fucked up, so his interest rates aren’t what he promised, and he ‘lost’ the contract-”
“Lost? Contract? You signed a cocktail napkin and your calling that a contract?”
“It was an Olive Garden napkin; he said it was binding, he said it was special! The Olive Garden is Italian, I figured it ment something.”
“John, get a hold of yourself. This is no time for arguing we need to figure a way we can get this money by tomorrow” Mike was right,
“Mike you’re right, we need to stop playing the blame game and start finding a way for me to get out of this certain death.”
“Right… well, we can’t ask mom or dad because that would be worse then facing the loan shark. We don’t own anything worthy enough for collateral.” Our small lower east side, furnished with the latest fashions in lawn furniture, was not even worth taking into consideration for collateral, and this is all we owned. I had to think of something.
“What if we went to the bank?” I had an idea.
“And what get a loan? Are you kidding me, with you credit it would never happen.”
“Not ask the bank for money, take it from them.” Genius I thought.
“You want to rob the bank. Genius. This way, we won’t only have the mob on our asses but the cops too, that is if we did it without getting caught or killed in the process.” I detected a hint of sarcasm in Mike’s voice.
“How would we get caught, New York is a huge place, banks get robed all the time here.” I needed to convince him it was a good idea.
“Suppose we were to rob a bank, how would we do it, where would we get the supplies. You need the money by tomorrow; these things take months of planning.”
“I know a guy, Franky G, he could hook us up with some big ass guns, well not bigger then these guns,” I flexed my huge biceps, “This guy is amazing, he could get us the stuff by noon.”
“That’s two hours from now, besides we need a plan.” He was almost convinced.
“Don’t worry; Franky G’s got it covered.”
Two Hours later
There was a knock at the door, not just an ordinary knock, the knock that children use when entering a familiar room: it was Franky G’s knock. I got the door and standing in the hallway was a scrawny boy almost. He was wearing a long black trench coat to match his black shirt, pants and boots. I couldn’t see his eyes because he was still wearing his black sunglasses to match his black crew cut and goat tee.
In his hands and strapped around his back were a total of four purple guitar cases.
“What’s with the purple?”
“They were out of black, this was the closest color.” His voice sounded like he had been smoking since the day he was born.
“Come in, you can put your stuff down on the table.” I hurried over to clear the magazines and cereal bowls from the table.
“Now I understand you are in a tight situation,” he went over to the windows looking through the blinds down to the street, “I don’t have much time, neither do you.”
“Why, what is it?”
“No time to explain. I also understand you don’t have any money or collateral for these weapons so here’s the deal: I keep your wallets and you swallow these tracking devices. After the robber you are to run to the warehouse two blocks south of the bank. I get 15% of what you get,” This man knew what he was doing, “Also, you each only get one bullet each, the rest will be blanks, this is your emergency bullet.”
He handed Mike and me the real bullets, we each put it in our breast pockets knowing or at least hoping not to see it again.
“What do we do about the cameras? How do we keep them from calling the cops? How do we get them to give us the money?” Mike asked, always having to be a kill joy and make me realize the flaws in every situation.
“Don’t worry about the cameras, the people will be too scarred to think about calling the cops, plus they will be too busy getting your money for you to worry about calling the cops.” Franky G replied with a smirk on his face, I had one too, Mike didn’t.
“You really do have this all planed out.” I said, reinforcing my trust in Franky G.
“That’s why they call me Franky G.”
“I thought it was cause your name is Frank Gallhouse?” Mike said trying to understand Franky G’s coolness.
“Well, yea. Ok so grab those ski masks and get on your flat jackets and I’ll see you in an hour in the warehouses.”
As quickly as he had entered, he had disappeared.
“I guess we’re really doing this.” Mike’s voice was full of fear and anticipation.
“You bet your sweet ass we’re doing this. Lock and load mutta fucka!”
We walked to the bank in what seemed to be an eternity but was actually less then five minutes. The plan was we would walk in there with the M-16’s under our jackets and hand guns in holster around our wastes. We act like we are normal customers then when we feel its safe we get out ski masks on and let the mayhem begin.
“Are you sure you want to do this, its not to late to turn around.” Mike grabbed my arm preventing me from entering the bank.
“Do we really have that option, lets go.” I pulled my arm away and entered the building.
It took Mike what seemed to be an eternity but was only a minute to come in after me. I reached in my pocket for the ski mask. Mike saw this and followed suit. We drove our heads into the masks before anyone notices.
“Everyone get down this is a robbery.” I figured this would be a nice introduction to the crowd.
“No one try to be a hero, we are NOT here for your money. We are here for the banks money. Your money is insured by the FDIC.” Mike recited the technical part of the job for us.
“Now just you wait a goddamn minute.” A bum by the door screamed to us.
“Kiss the ground dirt bag or get a stomach full of lead, we don’t need a hero.” I watch to many movies. I have these intimidating lines memorized.
“I’m not trying to be no hero, I want that money just as bad as you do, in fact I was just about to rob this place before you too fancy pants showed up.”
“You can’t be serious, get back on the floor old man.” I demanded.
“You don’t believe me? Maybe this will convince you!” The bum ripped open his poncho. A woman on the floor screamed in the horror of what it could be.
“Those are rode flairs.” Mike told the man and to the people of the bank.
“NO! It’s a bomb!” The bum was determined to convince us.
“Nope, those are rode flairs, watch.”
“Yea don’t grab that it will go off!” Warned the bum but nothing exploded.
“You see this flame that I just lit here, that would make it a rode flare.” Mike said with a mocking tone.
“Ok, so it’s a rode flair, I still wanna rob this bank though!” You had to hand it to the bum he had determination, maybe if he applied this to everyday life he wouldn’t be a bum.
“Fine, you keep a look out for the cops and on the people, take this gun,” I threw him my back up 9 mm, “Mike, you take that teller and go to the safe I’ll get the-”
“Hey, if the bum gets to rob the bank with you then I want to rob it too.” A young, generic looking man in a suit, stood up with his hands in his pockets. It was the man that was in front of me in line. There was a tusk of gray hair that had fallen in his face.
“Yea, ok, and then maybe that guy can too, and how about that lady with the kids, you know what, lets all rob the bank, what do you say?”
“That’s a great idea!” A man laying face down on the ground yelled.
“I was being sarcastic, dumb ass.”
“No, seriously, I have nothing to live for anymore, I don’t have a girlfriend, I don’t have a job, no family, I have meaningless crap in my apartment but that is it. I need something worth living for something I can look back on when I’m older and say, ‘yea I did that, I was a rebel’. I need to live, I need-”
“Ok, fine you can rob the bank too, just take a gun and shut up. Mike, give him your 9,” Mike tossed his back up 9mm to the man. He was feeling a power and sensation that he has never felt in his life. He was a god with this weapon, he could make people do what he wants; he could take life, “oh one more thing,” I leaned over and whispered to him, “they are just blanks so don’t get us in a situation where you have to shoot someone.”
“Oh, ok.” The man’s since of power slowly faded but then he saw the fear on the faces of the prisoners in the bank and the power returned.
“John, take that bag and get all the money from the drawers, bum anyone coming?” Mike was taking control.
“Nope all clear.”
“Good, new guy, watch the crowd, anyone looks up give them a new hole in their head. You.” Mike pointed to a young blonde haired blue eyes trembling teller. A badge reading Stacy was pined on her silky white blouse.
“Me.” Heavy with fear, she struggled to get the word out.
Take me to the safe.”
“I don’t have the k-k-keys, I’m still in t-t-training.” The fear pushed her over the words; she was going to fall on her face if she kept this up.
“Well, sweetie you better gah gah gah-get the keys.” I’ve never seen Mike act so disrespectful to anyone let alone a girl, it was amazing.
“Bob, the manager has them.”
“So go to Bob and get them.” Mike was so demanding and controlling, “Good, now take me to the safe.”
“New guy, what’s your name,” since we are partners now I figured I would make friends to pass the time.
“Jim, you’re John I presume?”
“You would presume correctly. So you don’t have a job?”
“Yep, got my last paycheck right here.” Jim patted his breast pocket.
“Don’t you care what my name is?” the bum interjected.
“Not particularly, you’re just a-”
“What’s your name?” Jim cut me off.
“I’m Joe. My friends call me Joe Shmoe.” Joe said this with a slight chuckle as if he was saying an amazing joke to new friends.
“Well nice to meet you Joe, now if it wouldn’t be too much trouble could you please turn your dirty ass around and make sure we’re safe.” I had to put the bum back in his place.
“John, did you clear all the drawers?” Mike called to me as he came out from the back.
“Yea, you got all the money?”
“There’s two more bags, new guy, bum, go get them.” Mike absorbed his new found power threw the handle of the M-16.
“Mike, how much is there?”
“Well basically, we will be able to pay off the loan shark, and have about 5.4 million left over. We have cash, we have certificates, we have stocks, and we have bonds.”
“What about Frankie G.?”
“We give him the ten thousand he thinks he’s getting and tell him we only took what we needed.”
“And for our new friends?” I asked.
“The can take a million each,” Mike said this with great generosity in his voice, he should though, they wouldn’t have robbed the bank at all without us but we wouldn’t have robbed it successfully without them. Here I am talking like it’s all over when we have yet to leave the bank, “Common lets move out.” Mike demanded.
“We’re going as fast as we can.”
“You two take that bag and leave, you can share that. John, grab those two bags and lets go.”
As we walked out the revolving door into the busy New York streets a great wind of relief came over me. I also noticed something odd, the teller Stacy was winking at Mike and put her hand to her face like it was a phone, making the words “Call me” with her lips stick smeared mouth.
Home free.
Mr. Jim and Joe Shmoe
“How much is in the bag?” Joe asked eagerly.
“It’s about three million.”
“I can’t even count past twenty-four, what am I gonna do with all that money.”
“You don’t have a family, do you?”
“Nope.” Joe’s reply was empty like his heart.
“I say, we take this money, go to Mexico, start our own families and live like kings.”
“Our own families or our own family?” Joe was onto something.
“Ya know, they say that only about fifteen percent of relationships forged out of crisis last.”
“Well, babe, I don’t know what that means, but I like those odds…”