A Very Successful Bank Robbery

“Wow. Crazy stuff right?” Johnny said, trying to loosen the rope tightly wrapped around his hands and feet.

“You’re telling me. Ever been robbed at gunpoint before” Bill asked. 

“At gunpoint? Hell, I ain’t ever been robbed, period!” 

“Ah. Personally, I’ve lost count the amount of times some youngster with something to prove ambushed me on the road, pulled out his weapon of choice, and gently recommended I hand over my valuable belongings.” Bill said, taking a peek over the tables to get a view of the rest of the bank. 

“What is it your name was again?” 

“The name’s Bill, friend. Though most call me Billy the Buckeye.” 

“Jesus Christmas, I thought that was you. Considering the six pistols, rifle, and the largest knife I ever did seen taken off your person by these robbers. My name’s Johnny by the way”

Before Bill could reply, one of the robbers walked over from the vault in the other room, into the opening area. “Hey! You two shut up back there or else I’ll blow a hole so large into both of your skulls I’ll be able to eat soup out of em!”

The bank floor was covered with poor folk tied up in rope. Most screaming and hollering, like their lives were in danger, which, everything considered, it probably was. One of the tellers was trying to unlock the vault, but her hands shook so bad she kept missing the combination. That did not go over well with the man who appeared to be the robber’s leader. 

His outfit left much to be desired. All he wore was overalls that held up what looked like underwear and a wide black hat. No one, not even his fellow gang members, were too sure what the message he was trying to convey, wearing something like that, was. But it sure made him the center of attention, whether that be from fear or intrigue. 

“Hey what say we try and stop these guys?” Bill asked Johnny.

“Me? My friend, the only time I ever handled a firearm was with a prop gun for a play I acted in down in New York.

“Hmm. An actor are ya. That works out mighty fine for the plan I’ve concocted.”

“What did you have in mind?” Johnny asked hesitantly. 

“Well first I need my tool belt back and then I’ll explain the pesky details. For now, just scream at the top of your lungs when I reach that counter over there.”

“What happens when they walk over to me?” 

Bill had already begun hopping to the counter. He turned around to face Johnny, “I don’t know, improvise. It’s what you’re good at.”

In truth, Bill had absolutely no plan at all. Nor had Johnny ever attempted improvising anything. For Bill, planning really isn’t his style. He has come to the conclusion that when you act like you’ve got things figured out, people tend to listen, and hell, it sometimes even goes your way.  

He knelt down behind the counter and nodded his head at Johnny, giving him the queue. 

Johnny gave out one of the most pitiful yells ever uttered. And this guy calls himself an actor. Bill even waited a few moments as he wasn’t sure if any sound came out of Johnny’s mouth at all. He rolled his eyes and mouthed the words “louder” to Johnny. 

“AAARRGGH MY LEG!” Johnny belted at a decent volume this time.

Two goons came back into the open area with their weapons drawn. “Who’s fucking leg? You?” One of the goons motions to Johnny. “Didn’t I already tell you to shut up.” 

Clearly neither of them saw Bill hurdling himself over the counter as they walked by, or else they probably would have stopped him. He landed on his back with a thud and peered around the room. Where the hell did they put my stuff, Bill thought to himself. A gunshot was heard in the vault, which was separated from Bill by a thin wall. Finally getting himself up, Bill looked on top of the table right in front of him that was out of view while he was on the floor. “Oh.” he said, staring at his stuff just laying there. 

He cut his restraints with his knife that looked more like a small sword, strapped his holsters on, and slung his rifle over his shoulder. 

Before he could sheath his knife, a burly man walked into the area behind the counter from a door Bill hadn’t noticed. The two men stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time until Bill decided throwing a knife into his gullet was a good decision. See, this is why I don’t plan anything out, he thought. 

Things were not going as well for poor Johnny across the area. 

“Well, what’s wrong with your leg? You just gonna keep staring at us?” The goon on the left, wearing a nice over coat and vest, said. 

“Uh well, I’ve got gangrene.” Johnny stammered. 

“Gang what? You in a gang as well? Just stay out of our way till this is over alright?”

“No, I think Gangrene is when there is localized death and decomposition of body tissue, resulting from either obstructed circulation or bacterial infection.” The goon to the right said. 

“Oh my mistake.” The goon on the left said. He might have continued speaking words but unfortunately for him, his entire noggin was blown to smithereens. 

Bill deftly leapt over the counter, calling out to the other goon that wasn’t dead yet. The goon turned around a little too nonchalant for Bill’s taste, so he blasted him in the chest with two shots, sending him through the window onto the street outside. 

“Holy living goddamn fuck!” Johnny and just about every other sane person in the bank yelled. 

“Catch!” Bill called out to Johnny as he threw him two pistols. Johnny managed to catch none of them. “Alright, act real menacing and like you know how to shoot for a few moments while I go hide and surprise attack them.” 

“Uh wha-” Johnny tried to say before Bill leapt back over the counter and through the door. 

Three more goons, including the leader, scampered out of the vault in the other room. 

“Hey buddy!” The leader barked at Johnny. “You just got yourself two second degree murder charges. In most counties, that's a certified execution right there. How bout I save you the hassle and kill you right now!” 

“Ha yeah, you tell him boss.” A goon who was just completely naked said in a confident manner. 

What the leader obviously didn’t know, is that if Johnny did in fact kill those men, then it would be considered self defense and he'd get off scot free. Perhaps the fool should educate himself before throwing out nonsense like that again.

God fucking dammit, Johnny thought. He looked closely at the guns he was holding and realized no bullets were actually loaded into the revolver. Nice. Even my prop gun had blanks. “It’s a little cramped in here boys, don't you think?” Johnny asked. “How bout we take this outside and-” Johnny thought for the right words. “Engage in combat.” 

The folks tied up on the floor were so flabbergasted at the situation they were generally intrigued at what the gang leader would say to such a proposition. 

“Uh. You mean duel?” The leader asked.

“You mean duel?” Johnny repeated in a dumb, mocking voice. “Look, we can go around all day talking about it. Sounds like you’re too scared to go through with it.” Johnny said, really coming into his stride now. 

“No no, I’m ready. In fact, I’ll be the first one out there.” The leader said, as he and his remaining gang members ran out the door of the bank. 

Is Bill jerking off back there? What the fuck is he doing, thought Johnny. “Well folks, I reckon I’ve got to take care of this.” He said to the folks on the floor and continued out the door. 

Bill had unknowingly lost his hearing when he fired his rifle earlier. So when he didn’t hear any conversation or gunshots between Johnny and the remaining goons, it is safe to say he was a bit perplexed. He peered out from behind the door way into the opening area and saw that neither of them were present. 

For the third time, Bill leapt back over the counter. “I suppose in a situation like this it would be mighty rude of me to leave you poor folk tied up like this.” Bill began to individually cut the restraints of each patron inside the bank, even striking up conversation with a few of them. 

Outside in the street, Johnny sees the three gang members, lined up on one side of the street. They stand in the ready position, facing straight ahead, waiting for Johnny to get into his rightful spot. 

Johnny, closely watched how each member stood in order to effectively mimic them for his own stance. He didn’t have a holter to place his guns in, so he shoved them into his pants, getting them ready for a quick draw. The same could not be said for the completely naked gang member, who stored his pistol in a place not worth mentioning. Though, those standing behind had to bear the full view of such a monstrous act.

Just in time to save Johnny, four law enforcement officers on horseback, rode into the street. Oh thank the lord. Save me from this mess! 

“Oh we got ourselves a duel!” One of the law men said to the others. 

“And front row seats to watch it.” Another said. 

Inside of the bank. Bill was signing autographs for the near thirty people he freed. One woman even had Bill sign her baby's forehead. “Just doing my job miss. All in a day's work.” He told her. “Anyways, I think this bank owes us all a few bucks for putting us in this situation, so what say we head into the vault and grab some bills?” He asked everyone.

This seemed to be a popular request as they all cheered and stormed the open vault. Everyone grabbed bags of money with such excitement, it was almost like they didn’t care about the dead teller, lying face up in the middle of the vault. 

“Well, you all have fun now. I should probably go find where everyone else went.” Bill said, as he slid open the front door and headed outside. 

Bill first noticed the naked man with a six shooter stored between his buttcheeks. So he discharged a round right to the naked man’s dome piece. The other members were so focused on the duel at hand, they thought the gunshot was their queue to quick draw their pistols at Johnny. It was a good thing for Johnny that the gang leader and his last remaining companion were the worst shots this side of the Mississippi because they let loose twelve shots between the two of them and somehow managed to ricochet every one of their bullets off the ground, into a wall, and back into their own selves. 

Johnny, after he finished emptying his bladder into his trousers, called out to Bill. “You really planned for all that huh?” 

“Sure did. I knew you weren’t in any real danger. And guess what? You and I will be the talk of the town for at least the next two generations.” 

“That’s true I reckon. Maybe three if we play our cards right. Anyways, here’s your unloaded pistols back.” Johnny said, making sure to enunciate the word, unloaded.

“Unloaded huh? Bastards must have stolen my ammo when they took it away. They won’t be needing it anymore I don’t think!” Bill chuckled. “After we get you some clean, un-pissed pants, I’ll take you to the saloon and buy ya as many drinks as you want.” 

“After a day like today, some whiskey and un-pissed pants are all a man could ask for.”