The Bank Robbery (a serial novel)
(Chapter I)
I am on the floor of the bank with a 9 mm Glock to my head. The bank is being robbed. I am thinking — why did I take this job as a bank teller? What were you thinking? I know I needed the money but like someone once said, there is work at the Post Office.
But who cares about any of that now. I might be dead soon. Local news will show up and tell the city about me and all the other victims of a bank robbery gone bad. They will tell everyone how I was a law student working his way through law school and got killed. Such a good person. He wanted to be a lawyer.
He wanted to be a lawyer so bad, he took a job as a bank teller to try to earn money to figure things out. Then this happened.
Shot in the back of the head.
Crazy.
Why won’t the guy just go away? I mean, I gave him all of the cash in my drawer. All of us did. I even gave him the food stamps. Yes, food stamps. Yes, we give customers food stamps. They come in, give us a slip, and we give them food stamps.
Mr. Johnny, the older teller, who had worked for the government for 40 years and then took this job to make a little extra cash on the side, gave him everything as well. He was so nervous he dropped his teller drawer and the money fell all over the place. We…
