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| The Life and Death of a Geriatric Bank Teller | Started by: Alfieri on Apr 25, '09 10:30 |
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(My entry to the Detroit is Crazy Situational Story contest) This is the sorry recollection of two once innocent individuals thrust into the criminal underworld of dodgily-moustachioed Italians throwing their money into the bulging pockets of thick-browed police captains and greasy Mediterranean millionaires who leave their shirts unbuttoned just far enough for the first wisps of chest hair to escape into sweet, breezy freedom. This is the story of Aurora and Death-Knight looking to make a quick buck to fund the terrible meth addiction they rapidly descended into once the sorry life that living under Godmother Marietta's spotlight revealed itself to be. This a tale that will thrust you into the bosom of the crime world as you know it and, my friends, it will shit on you. Here's the situation. Fifth Street. Aurora's standing outside the bank with a rifle in her hand. Surely someone would notice a woman standing outside a bank with a rifle in her hand?, you ask rather awkwardly, like Don Noir when approached by the opposite sex. Well, yes, but would you stop to question a woman holding a loaded gun? It could be that time of the month. Watch yourself. Anyways, Death-Knight rolls up in something suave, I think it's a Cadillac but I can't tell from my viewpoint inside the bank. It's my little nephew Jimmy's birthday and I'm withdrawing some cash to buy him a potted plant. He wants to be a botanist, the little rascal. I look outside again and both of the drug-addicted scoundrels are gone. Weird, I think. There's a gunshot all of a sudden and people start panicking. Fuckin' idiots, right? Usually when a bank robber tells you to sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up, emphasized by a gun shot in the air, you do what they say, but hey unconventionality is respectable. People are running everywhere, babies are screaming, my heads spinning like a fucking blender. I think I've shit myself but I can't really tell at this point. Aurora and Death-Knight have no idea what to do. Shit, they're probably off their faces on meth right now. I need a plan. Fast. Little Jimmy's future career in botany relies on me. When he wins a Nobel Prize for inventing...new plants (I'm in the middle of a god damn bank robbery ok?) who's he gonna thank first? That's right, in the truest sense of poetic justice, Uncle Alfieri. Aurora shoots a couple more rounds up in the ceiling, whilst Death-Knight laughs in sadistic revelry, and right now I'm pretty sure I've shit my pants. Aurora sighs loudly as the crowd continues to ignore the warning that the bullets impacting the roof gave and cocks the rifle as she walks towards the weeping bank teller, who must've been in his late 70's. She shouts something about bags of money. I'm too far away to hear and the ruckus has given me a headache. A brief conversation takes place, as Aurora's facial expression slowly shifts, before finally, she lifts the rifle and points it at the old mans face. His death by means of exploded face surely a metaphor for his obvious dementia and mental deterioration to deny a woman with a shotgun the banks money. I mean, for all he knew, it could be that time of the month, right? It was not to be however because, in a jarring act of human compassion, Death-Knight stepped in front of the loaded weapon and lifted his hand slowly, beautifully, to make a peace sign. He lifted the symbolic fingers up in front of his face, before pushing them forward, into the two barrels of the shotgun. The clouds cleared and sunlight flooded through the glass doors and into the bank. Everyone cried. Some spontaneously made love. The cops never came. Aurora realized the error of her ways and lowered the shotgun. She and Death-Knight left hand in hand. Everyone left the bank safely and with renewed faith in humanity. Except the bank teller. He'd died of a heart attack at this point. No one noticed. Not even his wife. She left with me. |
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| What happened with little Jimmy's Botany career? I think your story leaves us all wanting more. Are we going to see a sequel perhaps? And I always knew that damn Aurora was a meth-head. She drools a tad too much. | |
| Reply by: AdrianChampagne at Apr 25, '09 12:37 | |
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That is so like me and Aurora LMAO !!
Thats 100% like me I would laugh because she is daft enough to shoot the ceiling. LMAO !!
Lolz that would be funny to see.... :) |
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| Reply by: Death-Knight at Apr 25, '09 13:22 | |
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You left with a 70 year old bank teller's wife? Gonna take a second here to just you know, dot dot dot you. ... You make me sick. |
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| Reply by: Murphy_Rose at Apr 25, '09 19:01 | |
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| She had fine gums. | |
| Reply by: Alfieri at Apr 25, '09 22:08 | |
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