Chapter 10: The Great Bank Robbery

One of the hardest things I have had to go through was when the Humper County National Bank was robbed. I mean that the only thing that applied was "comedy of errors." Or, as it was said when I was in the marines and my delicate bride for life, Emily, was being true to me in her own way, the term was FUBAR. (That's the initials for "Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition.") And it took Moose, Brenda, Connie and me to straighten things out while Homer stayed home and got his dick made happy. He would think with that thing if he could. He sure tries.

Anyway, what happened was that Connie had opened bank accounts for all of us and an extra one for "operating expenses" as she called them. That account was for buying food, paying traffic tickets and all the other needful things of life. Then we had retirement funds in another account and one bank account listed under the name, "Investments." We had just about decided to open our own roadhouse. The Buck Horn was okay, but we were getting tired of Walt Deaver's continual whining and bitching. He wanted to pay us less since we were "fixtures" there and he had given us our first chance.

Connie put a stop to that by informing him that we had sold a whole bunch of singles and had three albums out and another one on the way. The CD with the nude of Emily on it, eight months pregnant, that barely hid her well-barbered pussy had become a collector's item.

Can you believe it, that she wanted to start going to a beauty shop and have her pussy permed? That gay hair dresser almost fainted when she showed him her sweet love stuff and asked, what can you do with this unruly thing?" She lifted her skirt and he passed out. She walked out of the beauty shop mumbling to Connie, "My next hair dresser is going to have nerves of steel."

"Well, why don't you go to a straight hair dresser?" Connie asked her.

"There ain't no such thing!" Emily told her.

Connie argued that there was and Em said there wasn't and they argued over whether or not a straight man could be a hair dresser of not. They almost stopped speaking to each other over it. Women!

Anyway, they argued all the way to the bank and were about to go in when there was a loud "BOOM" and the big plate glass door of the bank exploded outward and a man and a woman came running out, jumped into a waiting car and took off, peeling rubber for half a block. Their car was a souped up muscle car of some kind.

Suddenly Connie let out a screech and yelled, "Bank robbery! That's our money those two are getting away with." All thoughts of queer hair dressers and straight hair dressers left her mind.

"Shit!" My gentle Emily yelled, "Let's go get those mother fuckers!" She dragged Connie along with her and headed straight toward the car wash where my golden trash truck was getting its weekly bath. Emily shoved Connie up through the driver's side door and yelled, "You drive."

"I don't know how," Connie told her.

"Move over," Emily told her, "I'll drive."

Emily crowded Connie over and started the truck engine. She slammed it into drive and took off across town at an angle to the way the robbers had gone. "They went that way," Connie told her and pointer due west.

"Yeah, but to get back up on the Interstate they have to head back north toward Knob Hill. We'll take a short cut." She steered down the street, through someone's yard, down an alley and on toward the open fields north of town. She kept that gas pedal to the floor, ignored the brake pedal and headed out in hot pursuit, right straight up the side of Knob Hill.

Homer and I came out of the Hot Shot Bar And Grill in time to see my truck disappear into the distance. "Somebody stole my truck!" I exclaimed and took off running toward the car wash. Walt's big SUV just came out from under the wash spray when we got to it. I grabbed the girl who started to crawl up inside and jerked her back.

"Excuse me," I told her politely. Homer got in on the other side and we took off like we was in a high stakes race, which we were in a way. We did not know about the bank getting robbed, so all we intended to do was to reclaim my gold plated garbage truck and kill the thief, whoever he turned out to be.

I ran the SUV through all the gears and floor boarded it. When we got to the edge of town and saw my truck start the climb up Knob Hill I yelled, "Gotcha!" We headed right out across the fields after the son of a bitch who stole my truck.