Eighty-seven years old. Fat. Decrepit. Good with a dustpan. I arranged these traits at the top of my resume and handed them to the bank manager. He took me on – security guard.
I’ve worked the job three days and already want to quit. Not my fault, the position not as advertised. I expected to tuck into a quiet corner and watch the door, take an occasional nap. Not camp by the entrance and suffer the blather of every customer.
“Glad you’re hear officer.”
“Beautiful weather today, yeah?”
“Wake up, sir! You’re drooling on the deposit slips.”
They bored me. Rambled on as if to avoid suspicion with their pleasantries. They never guessed that I planned not to protect their money but to steal it!
I camped out, waiting for an opportunity. Hid behind a humped gut, squinted through bushy brows at the vault door. Daydreaming about its contents, I imagined money, jewels, bonds, gems, burgers and fries. I forgot my lunchbox, leftover meatloaf, and grew drowsy with famine; my head bobbed until I dozed off.
Zzzzzzzzzz……. Crack!
*nervous wheezing*
Later, in my testimony I mentioned falling off my chair. However, the video footage showed my stool collapsing under a walrus sized silhouette. Impossible to tell which was true, the lights were turned off, closed for the day.
Yet, both sources recorded an old man moaning on the floor, crawling into the main vault, the door left wide open.
*wheeze*
Both showed me struggle to stand, labored breaths that echoed off the walls and scared me! I groped thin air until my prints rested on a prickly object: a booby trap?
Mesmerized, I prodded the damp fuzz, panting heavily. For a moment, images of priceless furs clouded my mind and I hoped for a bathrobe! I bent to lick the object and froze when a familiar voice interrupted me.
“Clifford, I’m proud of you.”
The bank manager held his face in my hands. His beard scratchy in my grasp. Busted by the boss. At least there would be plenty of meatloaf in jail.
“I hired you because you were fat and old and the worst man for the job. Yet, you caught me robbing my own bank red-handed.”
Just doing my duty, I turned him in.
by: Dom
This is amazing! A unique writing style that will keep you cackling. Dom is truly a master of drawing his readers into hallucinations as his stories are vividly played out in the audience’s mind.