. Ski mask
s. A silvery Magnum
for me, a jet-black pump action shotgun
. His parents hated him). Check
gets us a shot of vodka
each, and none for himself, he's driving today. "Luck
", he says, managing to mangle
a one-syllable word with a pronounced Slavic accent
. We solemn
ly shake each other's hand
It is time. We approach the car. Lazarus brandishes the gun and says "I'm calling shotgun
". A laugh relaxes the tense atmosphere
, and we hop in and drive off.
We're in. Dimitri waits outside in the getaway
, while we two find a place away from camera
s to pull on the masks and pull out the guns
Time. I walk forward, catching glances of amusement
, rapidly changing to expressions
-BODY!" I yell out.
"FREEZE, MOTHERSTICKERS," shouts Lazarus. "This is a..."
Something's gone wrong. "Fuck-up
," he finishes lamely.
Everyone's frozen alright. A second, two seconds pass in complete silence, and I hear a muffled snort behind my back.
here, another one, it gets louder and louder, the nervous laughter
of suddenly relieved tension
, and laughter
breaks out all aroud us. The fat teller
is laughing out loud
, his enormous body shaking. A pimple-faced teenager is trying to hold in the laughter, but a loud snort betrays his intentions.
We start backing away, toward the door. I have a gun, a loaded gun
, but I have never felt so helpless in my entire life
. I back away, then turn and break into a run
, Lazarus following me closely. We practically fall over int our seats in the car and gesture Dimitry to drive like hell.