Southern Bank Heist

BOOM!

A fiery explosion burst from the bank’s side entrance, engulfing the scene in chaos as Jeb and Cletus bolted through the flames. Clutching bulging money bags, their faces absurdly obscured by pink stockings, they raced through a cacophony of blaring alarms, choking smoke, and panicked screams. They hurled their loot into their battered, rust-riddled blue pickup truck without breaking stride. Jeb stomped on the gas, the engine roaring in protest as the tires screeched, leaving black streaks on the pavement while the truck fishtailed wildly out of the lot.

"YEEHAW!" Cletus whooped, tearing the pink stocking off his face and tossing it into the air. With the same hand, he clutched a cash-stuffed bag like it was the crown jewel of their haul.

"Boy, you’ve got some serious issues," Jeb muttered, yanking the stocking off his face in one swift motion. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the wheel like a drowning man clutching a life raft. "What in the hell went down back there?!"

Cletus, still panting, turned with a grin. "Well, I mighta mixed up the dynamite stash with the smoke bombs. But look on the bright side—no witnesses!"

"No witnesses?! The whole dang town saw us! We're about as inconspicuous as a bullfrog in a punch bowl!" Jeb hollered, glancing into the rearview mirror.

Behind them, sirens blared. The cops were coming fast.

"Alright, let's shake these fellers off," Jeb said, yanking the truck into the nearest dirt road.

Cletus whooped. "Yeehaw! Just like the good ol' days!"

"Cletus, we ain't never had good ol' days!"

The truck hit a pothole, launching them airborne for a brief moment before slamming back down. One of the bags burst open, causing bills to scatter, flapping around like scared chickens.

"Catch that money!" Jeb barked.

"Oh, sure, let me just defy physics real quick!" Cletus snapped, swatting at the flying cash like a cat after a moth.

A shotgun blast rang out behind them. Sheriff Beauregard and his boys were closing in, their lights flashing as they barreled down the road, kicking up dust.

"Well, hell, that ain't good," Jeb muttered.

"Time for evasive maneuvers!" Cletus declared, rolling down his window and tossing out what appeared to be—

"Are you throwin' biscuits at 'em?!" Jeb yelled, stealing a glance in the mirror.

"It's all I had! Mama's special day-old biscuits! They're harder than a preacher's glare on Sunday!"

One biscuit ricocheted off a cop car's windshield, leaving a spiderweb crack.

"Cletus! Throw a smoke bomb, not your Mama's biscuits!" Jeb barked, gripping the wheel tighter.

Cletus blinked. "Oh, right! Lemme just—uh—where'd I put 'em?"

He rummaged through the tired and old polyester bag, tossing out crumpled receipts, an old harmonica, and a half-eaten corndog before triumphantly pulling out a small round canister. "Aha! Here we go!"

He yanked the pin and flung it out of the window. The canister clanked onto the road and promptly rolled before the oncoming police car.

A heartbeat later, thick white smoke surged into the sheriff's car, consuming the vehicle in an impenetrable fog.

"CRACK!"

"Son of a—! They just shot out my windshield!" Jeb yelled as a bullet whizzed past his ear. "We need a plan that does not involve baked goods or smoke bombs!"

Cletus rubbed his chin. "What about—"

POP! PFFFFFTTTTTTTT!

The truck filled with a loud hissing noise. Then, BAM! Red dye exploded over them like a paint grenade.

Jeb screamed, jerking the wheel as crimson clouds filled the cab. "What in the—CLETUS!"

Cletus coughed, his face already soaked in red, looking like a crime scene come to life. "Well, hellfire, I think one of them money packs had a dye bomb in it."

"YOU THINK?!" Jeb yelled as he swerved wildly, barely missing a fence post. "I CAN'T SEE! I'M BLEEDIN' FROM MY EYEBALLS!"

"That ain't blood, Jeb! It's just dye!"

"I DON'T CARE WHAT IT IS, IT BURNS!"

Cletus desperately fanned the air, smearing red all over himself and making things worse. He blinked rapidly. "I—I can't tell if I got eyes anymore! Is my face still there?"

Jeb wiped his own face, which only made the red smear worse. "We look like we just lost a fight with a ketchup truck!"

The sirens grew louder behind them. Sheriff Beauregard was getting close.

Jeb groaned. "We gotta pull over, man. We can't see; we're covered in dye, and I think I inhaled a lungful of it—"

"Not yet! We've got one last trick up our sleeve!" Cletus grabbed a bundle of money packs and hurled it out the window.

Jeb sighed. "YOU JUST THREW THE DYE PACKS, YOU MORON!"

POP!

Another explosion of red filled the air as the cop cars drove right into the dye cloud."

Jeb sighed. "You're hopeless."

Blinded and wheezing, Jeb swerved the truck onto the shoulder, tires screeching as it skidded to an abrupt halt. Both men slumped in their seats, splattered and defeated, hacking clouds of crimson-tinged mist into the air. They looked like a pair of battered, overripe tomatoes left out in the sun too long.

Sheriff Beauregard pulled up alongside them, stepping out slowly, his arms crossed. He looked at the two dyed-red criminals, their wild eyes blinking through the mess, and laughed.

"Well, boys, I gotta admit… this is the first time I’ve ever seen two grown men surrender ‘cause they got tie-dyed by their own loot."

Cletus spat red out of his mouth. "I think I taste pennies. Is that bad?"

Jeb groaned. "You're officially the dumbest criminal in the "South."

Beauregard wipes a tear from his eye. "So let me get this straight—you stole a whole truckload of money, then spent the getaway throwing it out the window and dyeing yourselves red like a couple of circus clowns? Was that your escape route plan, or were y’all just winging it?"

Jeb and Cletus stood in stunned silence.

Cletus cleared his throat. "Well, technically, "our escape plan was—"

"Cletus, if you say one more word, I’m gonna let the sheriff lock me up first just so I ain’t legally responsible for what happens to you," Jeb interrupted, rubbing his dye-covered face in frustration. Then Jeb smacked Cletus upside the head.

"OW! What was that for?!"

"FOR RUINING MY GETAWAY, YOU MORON!"

Cletus huffed. "Hey, at least we made it memorable."

Jeb flopped onto the ground, exasperated. "Somebody just arrest us already."

Beauregard grinned. "With pleasure, boys. With pleasure."