The case of the angery bank teller

"I'm going shopping boys," Gertrude Hardy said, picking up a her purse, "Be sure to mind the house carefully. "Sure go aunty." Fair haired Joe said smirking. "Yeah, me and Joe well be good as pie." Dark haired Frank added. "Good. But don't think I don't know you boys. You'd trash this house in a railroad minute if I wasn't hear. And Fenton sure doesn't help, he just keeps putting up those ludicrous question marks all over tarnation." Gertrude was clearly getting carried away, so Frank slowly eased himself out of the dumpy chair he was sitting in and wobbled over to Gertrude, helping her out the door and into Gertrude's rust-eaten hatchback. "Take care aunty," Joe screeched as the hatchback rolled down the cracked driveway and into the street, "And be sure to get hit by a bus." He added under his breathe. "Good one Joe" Frank quacked. The boys strolled into there mobile home, and found a comfortable place to rest there bony bodies. "So Frank," Joe stuttered, his bloodshot eyes twitching uncontrollably, "What do you want to do?." "Oh I don't no. You game for robbing a bank?." "I'm game if you are" Joe answered, tuning his mechanical heart. "I'm going to ring Chet and see if he wants to tag along." Frank said reaching for the rotary phone. "Good idea," Joe croaked, " I'll fetch are Hot sticks and masks." After Frank had arranged to pick up Chet on there way to the Bayport City Bank, the boys' loaded there burglar gear into the back of there own hatch back, a small, rust stained, camo job.

The boys were soon thundering down the country road that led to Chet's dumpy home. "So, what's the plan?" Joe shrieked into Frank's ear over the deafening noise there hatchback emitted. Joe leaned closer to Frank, for he knew that one could often hear Frank's brain in action. He was soon rewarded with a sharp grinding noise, the usual sound Frank's brain made when it was in use. "Me and you well take the rear and hide behind Chet's big hind-end. That way he'll get shot if there's any shooting. Chet well kayo the teller with a drumstick. After that, we'll get the loot and run." Frank belched. "Seems like a flawless plan to me" simple minded Joe added. Chet's dumpy farm soon came into view. It was located in a small grove of bald pine trees. "Say, I wonder what Chet's doing with all those wooden crates in the front yard?" Joe wondered. "Some new hobby I'll bet!." The Hardys were often amused by there plump friends short-time relationships with various hobbies, and could not hide the excitement to see Chet's newest. After the Hardy's had parked there hatchback, they strolled up to the Morton home and Frank gave the doorbell twenty quick rings. Mr. Morton answered. "Howdy boys. Chet's around back." As the Hardys began nearing the back of the home, the faint sound of music was heard. "Say, sounds like some sort of Mexican ditty eh Frank?" Joe noted. Frank cocked his head sideways, "I'll say, and some other funny sounds too."

Squeek!! squeek!!! thump!! who-ha!! squeek!!.

As the Hardys rounded the house, they saw there heavy friend hopping around on two apple crates while mounted on a strange bike. "Well I'll be a question mark. It's my good chums Frank and Joe." Chet quickly dismounted his strange bicycle and ambled over to greet his friends with a big hug. "Say, what kind of bike job is that Chet?" Joe inquired. "It's a Monty X-Lite, just bought it yesterday. I saw some fellas hopping around down at Barmet Bay a few days ago and thought I'd give it a try." "Looks pretty nifty. So, you coming downtown?." Frank asked, clucking his raw tongue. "Sure fellas, just let me change." Frank hadn't noticed Chet's strange form of apparel until now. It consisted of a white body-suite that poofed out at the shoulders and hips. These poofs were striped. "What's with the suit?." Frank asked. "Oh that, I'm hoping to join the Ot Pi trials team next year. It's standard equipment for most serious trialsmen." "Smooth." The Hardys said in unison.

Soon the trio was parked in front of the Bayport City Bank. "Okay, let's put are masks on." Frank instructed, picking a raw blister on the end of his sharp nose. Joe extracted three masks from a Barney duffel bag, and as he did so a paper fluttered out. Joe picked it up and inspected it. "Just another one of dads question marks." Joe handed a mask to Frank and then Chet, and kept one for himself. "Okay, heres the deal," Frank grunted, "Chet, you go in first, me and Joe well follow." "Oh, and hear, take this drumstick and strike the teller in the head with it." The Hardys holstered two rubber band guns, and fastened there masks over there large heads. "Lets go!!" Frank cried. Chet charged into the bank and screamed, "Everybody, on the floor!!." The bank teller reached his hand under his desk and brought it back up holding a .357 Magnum revolver. He emptied two rounds into Chet, who fell over like a dead elephant. Frank and Joe, who had heard shots being fired, made a bee-line for the hatchback. Joe was to slow though, and the bank teller needed only one shot to bring him down. "Stop!! thief!!." The angry bank teller screamed. Frank turned, aiming his rubber band pistol at the teller. "This things loaded!" Frank screeched. "So is this!!." Came the bank tellers reply, which was followed by two more gunshots. Frank clutched his chest, and fell to the ground.


Home- Advice-Pics- Consumer Alerts-Short Stories- Recipes-MadLibs
Message Board- Sign Guest-Book- View Guest-Book