The Heist

I drove to my bank ATM the other day to make a deposit. As I was walking up to the machine, the bank doors opened and two large men came out of the door, followed by another man pushing a dolly. The cart was stacked 4 feet high with bags of coins and cloth bags of cash. They were headed towards an armored car parked just in front of mine.

I knew I shouldn't stare, but all that cash on the move made me salivate. I tried to play it cool and watch the transport out of the corner of my eye, but the two large men frowned in my direction and I quickly looked back towards the ATM machine. I pretended to mess around in my purse, but instead watched with great interest as the men loaded the cash into the truck, bag by bag.

In my normal life, I would never consider robbing a bank, but for these few, exciting seconds, I hatched a plan to escape with the cash. One bag of bills would get me to Costa Rica, and another would mean a life-time supply of virgin pina coladas. I'd have to create a distraction for the men. Maybe I would fake a heart attack at the ATM (although once you saw my pathetic checking account a heart attack wouldn't be so far fetched). The men would come rushing to my aid. Then, with a ninja move that I hopefully would come up with on the spot, I would incapacitate all three men in one deft maneuver, sprint to the truck, tuck two cash bags under
my shirt and run to the Jenny Craig store across the parking lot.

When the cops came around looking, they'd be too humiliated to ask the lady with the big chest at Jenny Craig if she was really hiding something under her shirt besides too much dessert. My plan was foolproof.

I turned from the ATM to look around for security cameras. The rumble of the armored truck distracted me and I saw, crestfallen, a lifetime of virgin pina coladas driving away from me. With a sigh, I completed my transaction and stuffed a measly $20 in my wallet.

I'll be ready next time. Oh, I'll be ready.