Chicken Head and Princess Plan a Robbery

“Here, take this.” Bruce held the gun loosely in his hand, waving it at Danny like a set of house keys, while simultaneously looking through the plastic bag full of snacks they’d just bought from the Shop-n-Save.

“Christ’s sake, man!” Danny yelped. “You’re pointing it right at me!”

“Huh?” Bruce’s eyes shifted and locked on his own hand, as if it didn’t belong to his body, like someone else was pointing a gun at his best friend. “Shit man… sorry.” He lowered the gun and dropped it into Danny’s lap, a move that startled Danny almost as much as having the thing pointed at his face. It was much lighter than he’d thought it would be, sitting next to his crotch, shiny black metal against the red synthetic fabric of his athletic pants. He then nervously surveyed the convenience store's parking lot, squinting to see through the fogged-up windows of the Hyundai. The day was wet, grey, and depressing. Early March had nothing to offer.

Bruce continued rifling through the plastic bag. The crinkling sound hung loudly in the vacuum of the vehicle’s interior. “What the hell, man?” Bruce finally exclaimed with no further context.

“What is it?” asked Danny.

“Chocolate bar. Where’s the Chocolate bar?” asked Bruce. “We were just in there!”

“I put it back,” answered Danny. “You said you didn’t want it.”

Bruce’s eyes locked onto Danny’s. He looked on the verge of tears. “I never…” he trailed off, slumping back in the seat, gazing at the condensation, now covering the entire windshield. He just sat, silently.

“Go back in and get one if you want,” Danny said softly. “It’s not like we’re on a timetable.”

Bruce gave a limp shrug of his shoulders. “Nah. It’s ok. We need to get on with it.” Neither one of them moved after Bruce’s proclamation. They only sat in the stillness of the car; the sound of wet tires was barely audible from the occasional vehicle swishing past the convenience store.

“I’m not so sure this is going to work.” Danny started. “I mean, if we’re going to rob someplace, starting with a bank is…” His eyes shifted as he searched for an analogy. “I dunno, kind of like trying to do a marathon without ever having run a race before. I mean… let’s try this place first.” Danny nodded toward the Shop-n-Save convenience store, somewhere in front of them, beyond the opaque windshield.

Bruce’s face scrunched up at the idea. “Nah, we were just in there!”

“So what?” Danny stated more than he asked. “They’ll probably remember us buying shit, not robbing the place.”

“You’ve got it backwards, man.” Bruce said, face still scrunched like Danny remembered his mother doing when his grandmother would pass gas in the nursing home before she died.

“Well, banks have security, is all I’m saying.” Danny continued.

“And that dude in there probably has a sawed-off shotgun under the cigarette rack!” Bruce argued back. “I mean, I’d rather face somebody my grandpa’s age with a peashooter than some guy with a shotgun, working for minimum wage.” Bruce started gaining steam. He shook his head and smirked. “I’m doing this for you, you know?”

“Yeah, then why am I the one holding the gun?” Danny snapped back.

“Because you’re the one with the cancer.” Bruce stated matter-of-factly. The statement hung in the air defiantly, as if having cancer and holding a gun in a robbery had anything to do with each other.

“Dude, me having cancer is supposed to be why they’d take it easy on us if we got caught!” Danny exclaimed. His voice leveled up another half octave. “Nowhere in this stupid plan did it also mean I’d be the one waving the gun around.”

Neither boy spoke for a few more moments. Each of their minds now latched onto the possibility of being caught. Hopefully, they’d get enough money to offset the cost for some of Danny’s treatments, which wasn’t even an issue until his mother, who, through no fault of her own, lost her job and benefits at the Department of Education. “Ending a generation of governmental fraud and abuse, at the expense of the American taxpayer.” The mass email stated. Neither boy knew any details about government fraud, but they both knew abuse when they felt it, and robbing a bank seemed like a good way to quickly offset its impact. It was also a “middle finger right to the face of the establishment.” Bruce posited when he first floated the idea in Danny’s basement.

It’s more likely that the idea to rob a bank was spawned from the stupid mixture of youth, desperation, and an overindulgence in Danny’s medical marijuana stash, but it didn’t matter where the notion came from. What did matter was that they now had the gun, the bank was around the corner, and Danny’s cancer was still eating through his lymph nodes.

“Fuck it,” Bruce mumbled under his breath. “We didn’t skip fifth period for nothin’.” He cranked the ignition, cranked the defrost, shifted the car into reverse, jolted backwards, shifted hard again, then putted off toward the bank. So far, this criminal master plan was off to an underwhelming start.

***

“Put your hands up, this is a robbery!” Bruce shouted from underneath his dollar-store Halloween princess mask. Danny thought the command sounded unimaginative, like something his best friend had heard on an equally unimaginative TV show. Whatever… at least Bruce was the one holding the gun, waving it in the air to be precise, like he was spinning a lasso. “That means you, grandpa!” Bruce shouted at the startled security guard. Danny felt that the last part was completely unnecessary.

The elderly guard put his hands in the air. Danny noticed the man wasn’t wearing a gun. However, the lone customer in the bank, a man in cowboy boots and a wrinkled flannel shirt, was wearing one, strapped snugly to his hip. Nevertheless, he complied and raised his hands while the elderly guard sat tiredly in a nearby seat as if he were over this robbery just as it was beginning. No one else moved as Danny marched forward, floral pillowcase in hand.

“You ladies behind the desk… My colleague is going to hand you his pillowcase. Just put the money in there and we’ll be outa here so you can go on about your day.” “Colleague?” Danny thought. He made it sound like they sold insurance together.

Danny studied the three tellers behind the counter. They couldn’t be much older than…

“Jenna?” Danny said from behind his rubber chicken head mask. The girl in the center of the trio was Jenna Watkins. She graduated just the year before and was away at college until she wasn’t.

Jenna leaned forward a bit, allowing her hands to sink to ear-level. She knew the voice but… Danny took off his mask and smoothed his hair with the hand that was holding the pillowcase. “It’s Danny. Danny McRoberts.”

Jenna grinned nervously. “Oh, hey there.” She said, voice quivering just a tad. “W-what are you… You’re robbing us?”

“I have cancer.” Danny grinned. “I heard you were back from school, but…”

“What in the hell are you doing?!” yelped Bruce from the front door of the bank. His shrill voice jerked Danny back to focus. Realizing what he’d done by removing his mask, he gave Bruce a sad, knowing glance.

Bruce scurried over to his friend. “Put your mask back on!” He said through gritted teeth.

“S-sorry,” Danny said softly. “It’s the chemo. I sometimes forget stuff. I…”

“Bruce?” Asked Jenna. “Is that you?”

Princess Bruce froze. His heavy breaths barely escaping from the small mouth hole of the plastic mask.

“Danny has cancer,” Bruce said flatly. “And his mom lost her job. We’re trying to pay for his treatment.”

“Bullshit.” Said the older teller to Jenna’s left.

“I wish it was bullshit lady.” Said Danny as he nonchalantly raised his loose t-shirt, revealing the surgically implanted port fastened to the outside of his stomach. The tellers all stared at the plastic contraption. The lone customer, his cowboy boots softly clacking on the tile floor, stepped forward to get a better look.

No one said a word for a bit, allowing the karaoke version of Air Supply’s I’m All Out of Love to come from the bank’s audio system and fill the silence.

Jenna’s eyes bounced back and forth between Danny’s sweaty face and Bruce in his princess mask. Jaw set, she abruptly lowered her hands and stepped to the cash drawer, yanking it open with a determined energy. Danny’s eyes widened as Jenna started pulling stacks of cash and placing them on the counter.

“What are you doing?” quipped the older teller.

“Gimme that pillowcase,” Jenna commanded.

Danny glanced at Bruce, who shrugged his shoulders. He then took a few timid steps closer and gently laid the pillowcase on the counter. Jenna immediately started shoving stacks of cash in the bag.

The customer who stepped in to look at Danny’s port pulled his wallet from his back pocket and withdrew a fifty-dollar bill. He handed it to Danny, who immediately thanked the man, although the words from Danny’s mouth sounded more like a question than a show of gratitude.

“Took my sister, that cancer,” said the customer in the cowboy boots. “It’s a tough road. Best of luck to ya son.”

Jenna finished shoving wads of cash into the bag and thrust it toward Danny. “Screw ‘em all.” She said defiantly.

“T-thank…” he stopped mid-sentence as the sound of police car sirens overtook the dulcet tones of Air Supply.

Jenna and the other young teller slowly turned their heads toward the older one, who stood frowning at the two hapless crooks. Her arms crossed tightly against her chest, pushing her bank nametag skyward.

“What y’all are doin’ ain’t right,” The older teller said flatly as the sirens grew louder. “I don’t care what the reason is.”

Bruce finally pulled off his plastic princess mask and focused on the older teller. Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks.

“Oh yeah,” Bruce quivered. “You know what else ain’t right? Giving a seventeen-year-old stage four cancer ain’t right!”

The older teller shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “Well, I’m sorry ‘bout that but-“

Bruce cut her off. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. “And it ain’t right that his mom got shitcanned from her job by some jackass who has enough money to cure cancer if he wanted to!” The sirens grew louder, but so did Bruce. He waved his gun around as he spoke. “And… and it ain’t right that they took her insurance away! You know what they said? They said, “There are private options available in your area.” Or some shit like that!”

“Bruce.” Danny said quietly.

“No!” Bruce shouted, cutting him off as the sirens came to an abrupt halt outside the bank door. “I mean… how in the hell is she supposed to afford private insurance without a goddamn job lady?! Huh? How’s she supposed to do that?!”

The older teller’s face slowly transformed from defiant to sad. She said nothing. Bruce let out a deep breath. He looked worn out. He wiped his nose with his gun hand and then wiped the snot off his hand onto his shirt. He then gave Danny a sad smile. “You ready?” he asked.

“Yeah. I think so.” Said Danny.

“What in the hell are you doing?” Jenna asked, her concern for the boys evident in her question.

Bruce strode calmly over to the customer in the cowboy boots and held out the gun toward him, grip first. “Mister, can you take this? I figure you might have a safe at home or something.”

Slack-jawed, the customer slowly raised his arm, palm up, allowing Bruce to lay the weapon gently into the man’s hand.

“What are you doing?!” Jenna urgently asked again.

“We’re goin’ outside,” Bruce responded tiredly.

“But, you’ll get arrested,” Jenna stated, her voice high, a tear gliding like a translucent pebble down her left cheek.

“We know,” Bruce said. “And since we ain’t getting’ away with the money, plan B is they’ll have to treat his cancer for free if he’s in jail.”

Karaoke Journey’s Don’t Stop Belevin’ replaced Karaoke Air Supply over the bank’s PA system as the two boys walked confidently toward the front doors.

“But you… Bruce, why are you…“ Jenna stopped mid-question as Bruce turned and set his soft eyes directly on her.

“Because we’re best friends. That’s why.” Bruce said without a hint of defiance. It was just a fact.

Danny put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder and turned him toward the door. As the boys walked forward, Danny gave the tellers one last look. “Bye Jenna,” he chirped as the pair stepped into the grey, damp March day.