Inspired by Saturday afternoon movies, the two boys storm the local bank – sort of.
James Carlyle and I were downtown, letting our tricycles graze outside the door of the First National Bank. James’s was light blue, a full two hands higher than my red one. I, however, wore a real buffalo-fur cowboy vest – bulletproof. In addition, I had on my genuine Mexican sombrero, which, if I turned the brim down all the way around, made a very workable tent. One of us – I think it was James, but it might have been me – said, “Let’s rob the bank!”
We were young in those days and when we made a decision, we acted. Most of the bank robberies I’d ever seen took place on Saturday afternoon – that’s when the cowboy movies came to the theater. The Tivoli it was called, and it always showed cowboy movies on Saturday.
This happened to be a Saturday morning, but perhaps it was just as well we decided to rob the bank then, because we might not have been able to get into the bank that afternoon. The bank was closed on Saturday afternoons – a pretty good idea, when you come to think of all the cowboy movies they show then.
After the bright morning sun, it was dark when we opened the door and looked around at the activity of Saturday morning financial traffic. I started to feel a bit uneasy about the whole affair. This was the first bank I had ever robbed. I don’t know about James.
The bank had a cool, musty smell like old, dried-up inkwells. There were so many caged windows that I couldn’t decide where to start first. It was a real relief to see a familiar face behind one of the windows. Of course, I had to bend up the brim of my sombrero to see him, but there he was: Mr. Simpson. He was a friend, because he played golf with my dad. I decided to rob him first.
Right off, though, I ran into trouble. I couldn’t think of the right dialogue.