:Standing on a street corner surrounded by close friends and family members, each taking their turn to share a tale of particular heroics or wit, George decides to open his mouth and share a favorite story of his own bravery and quick-thinking ability:

I had a plan. I had heard a lot of talk on the streets about others’ exploits in robbing post offices and the troubles that they had in doing so: the long lines full of witnesses, the general public approach to the counter, and the occasional loose-cannon postal worker who’s packing heat. I’m typically not a hot head where business is concerned. I don’t like the risky gains. Strictly the realm of those youths, as they say. But this idea, I liked.

A casual acquaintance of mine worked at the local post office. I knew what branch. I also knew where this guy--the acquaintance--lived. In a moment of opportunity, putting my hours of pick pocketing practice with my buddies to use, I nabbed the guy’s keys. In the morning, when his laundry was delivered outside of his door, I slipped one of his work uniforms out and slipped out the door. It was a little baggy, and I would have to improvise on the shoes, but otherwise, I was ready.

Picking out the shoes just about killed me. I knew I needed some sort of comfortable black athletic shoe to fit the part, but the closest that I had were all of my shiny black dress shoes. I knew how ridiculous I would look creeping through the inner workings of the post office with my feet shining all over the place, and I was nervous as hell about it, but I would have to wing it anyway.

To avoid suspicion, I had my former associate, Henry_C_Vidi, scope out the place for me. Just for the basics—-where people came in and out—-and around what time. As far as we could figure, the employees usually used the side utility entrance, and the manager of the branch, a husky fellow by the name of Dexter, left for lunch every day around noon, and returned around 3 o'clock. That’s when I would make my entrance. As it turns out, ‘Ol Henry proved even more resourceful than I could have ever asked. He stole the building blueprints right out of the manager’s car! Man, this plan was really coming together.

The day I planned to do my business was hot as hell. I could feel myself beginning to sweat through the wool uniform, and I was feeling really conspicuous about my shoes, but I was in too deep now. It was now or never. To try and conceal my identity further, and avoid any other suspicion or uneasy run-ins with that acquaintance that I mentioned, I wore the postal uniform hat to cover up my bald head, and I decided to go in without my glasses. Looking back, maybe that part wasn’t the best decision, but hindsight is 20-20, I suppose. And I can squint myself down to like 20-30 vision. Once, when I was driving down from the Catskills, I squinted my way from Wortsborough down to the Tappan Zee Bridge. I was spotting raccoons on the road!  and if my friend, Jerry, were alive today, he'd back my story up in a second.

Anyway, by the time I got inside—no troubles there—I was sweating bullets. I went in around 12:30 to give ‘ol Dexter plenty of time to split for lunch. And I had reviewed the blueprints, so I knew right where to go to get to his office, where I planned to empty out the safe. So I turn the corner into the hallway where I know his office is, and this sniveling little postal employee with a face greasier than an oil pan and the name “Leroy” sewn on his shirt comes outta freakin’ nowhere and just starts giving me a real hard eye. Well it’s best to act confident in these situations, so I just gave him a real hard look back and kept goin’ where I was goin', but he stopped me, soundin’ real suspicious.

“Who’re you lookin’ for, chief?” he asked. I could feel him staring real hard at my shoes and at the name “Newman” stitched into my own chest. I just stood as tall as I could—I’m only 5’7, ya know. Alright, 5’6.

Anyway, I made myself as tall as I could—he couldn’t have been more than a couple inches taller than me—and I said, as confidently as I could, “I’m lookin' for ‘ol Dex. He around?”

This didn't seem to put him at ease like I thought it would. He looked at me more strangely than ever. “He’s out to lunch,” he said softly. He tilted his head to the side and started scratching it as he looked down at my feet again. I fingered my revolver, silenced and tucked into the back of my pants. I knew it would be no problem to shut this guy’s mouth with some lead and stuff him in a closet somewhere, but hoped that it wouldn’t come to that. “Your shoes—“he started.

“Yeah, well I’m here from corporate for the monthly inspection,” I interrupted. I figured maybe I could make my shoes make me look like someone important? I don’t know—-I was flailing for anything at this point. Fuckin’ bugger making me explain myself. I’m really a fantastic liar, though, when I need to be. “And he had better get his ass back here, pronto, or I’ve a good mind to fail you guys. This is the third time he’s missed our appointment.”

That REALLY seemed to confuse him. BOY I must have been a sight with my too-baggy uniform, shiny dress shoes, and completely squinted eyes. He started scratching even harder for a few seconds before responding, “Well, I don’t really know—“

“Look, pal,” I interrupted again. I was really trying to take control of the conversation. “You just find Dexter and tell him that if he’s not back here in 20 minutes, you’ll all be out on your ass. I’ll be waiting in his office.” It pained me to give myself a time limit, but I had to sound legitimate. That seemed to do it for him. He turned on his heel and split.

Finally alone, I set to work on the safe. I’m really very good with my hands. They’re really very delicate—-I was once a hand model. And you might not know it to look at me, but, boy, can I bait a hook! But because I didn’t have my glasses, I was really having trouble with this thing. I kept having to put my face really close to the dial so I could see, but that kept me from having my ear in the right spot to hear the tell-tale clicks.  George is getting’ upset!  I thought to myself.    It was much cooler inside, but I started sweating again.

I got interrupted by some peon looking for his boss, and I had to sit down behind his desk real quick and play it cool. He spooked me a little bit, but it gave me a great idea. After I sent him packing (I’m really a tremendous liar) I started searching through Dexter's desk drawers. In the bottom drawer, next to a miniature pistol, I found the safe keys.

Once I’d found the keys, it was a breeze. I opened the safe and found all sorts of goodies. There was confiscated mail, which included drugs and some incriminating letters concerning some of New York’s upstanding political figures, stacks of cash, and another small handgun. I stuffed them all into a canvas bag I found on top of a filing cabinet, took the gun from inside the drawer where I’d found the keys, just for fun, and walked calmly out the door, undisturbed. And I’m not talking petty cash, either. This was a real score. I couldn’t wait to give my boss his share. He would definitely be pleased.

Minutes later, a very confused couple of postal workers, one a little husky, and one skinny, but with a very greasy face, returned to the scene of the crime. This time, both were scratching their heads as they looked around the halls for the mysterious chubby representative from the corporate offices who had suddenly gone missing…

*listens to the story as if never heard such in my life*

Wow, Mr.George that was one of the best of the best I have heard in my lifetime here in the Family business. I'm sure that ol Charlie boy would of loved to here that if he were still living till this day.

*thinks of all the questions I wanted to ask.. but finally asks the one that I want to know most*

So, after you disappeared, what happened to the friend and did you split it with Henry for getting you the blueprints?

*before you can speak I asked the final question*

How much was the loot?

Just between me and you, George, I've knocked over that office a couple of times (a little less finesse in my approach).  I always knew Dexter was corrupt.  I mean, come on, who takes a three hour lunch?

A well executed score though.. perhaps I can learn some technique from you.

Thanks, Dessy.  I was rather proud of it myself.  But who is this "'ol Charlie boy" that you speak of?

Nothing happened to the acquaintance who I stole the keys and uniform from.  They questioned him, since the greaser had seen his name on my shirt, but he was truly ignorant to the whole thing, so he was let off.  And of course I gave Henry his cut for his part in the plan.  The blueprints proved invaluable, since they kept the time needed in the location short, and I never would have been able to pull it off if Dexter had been in his office.  Exactly how much we made, I'd rather keep to myself, although I will say that I was able to take the week off, if you understand my meaning, and some of the letters I found have provided our family some much-needed protection from politicians in the form of bribery.

And yeah, Sureshot, That guy's a prick, alright.  But I think that most post offices operate in that fashion.  Three-hour lunches all around.  It's a rather kushy gig that they've got going on over there.

I'll have to bring you along next time, eh?  Let's keep our ears open for our next plan.

Mr_Bean stands there with his Teddy in hand listening to this crazy story about robbing a post office.  He waited until the story was done as he picked his nose.

Wow George!  Did you really do that?...Amazing!  Maybe next time you can bring Teddy and I along.  Of course Teddy would have to get his own share of the loot just like me...He wouldn't like being left out like that.

Mr_Bean started petting his teddy bear unknowningly smearing his boogers on it.