The Hoxeyville Bank Heist

Okay, so every month Writer’s Digest does a writing competition and sometimes it requires writing a short story (750 words or less) based of a prompt that they provide.  The prompt for last month’s competition was, “Mommy, I don’t like this.”  That’s it.  Below is what spewed forth from my brain.  I hope you enjoy it.  If you don’t… well.. you’re not alone because it didn’t make the top five for the competition.  I’ll assume it took sixth place….

                                                                             The Hoxeyville Bank Heist

In and out.  The job was supposed to be in and out.  What the heck happened?

My feet paced the marble floor trying to keep up with my mind.  It all happened too fast; everything was a blur.  It’s been hours now and all I can figure is the teller hit a silent alarm.  My heart’s still racing.  I’m suddenly aware of how ungodly hot my ski mask feels.

“Mommy, I don’t like this,” comes a small voice from the group of five, kneeling on the floor.

I lose it.

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”  Before I know it I’m rushing toward the group, thrusting my gun in their faces.

“Marcus Scott! Don’t you point that gun at my son!” yelled the boy’s mother.

I stopped cold; surprised by my own outburst.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Daniels. I overreacted.” I begged sheepishly.  The words further dampening the wool covering my sweating face.

“You’re darn right you did.  And let me tell you…”

Her words were cut off by a sharp knock on the front door glass. It was about time they sent the negotiator.  I’d seen enough movies to  know not to go near the windows or the front door, so I surveyed the hostages.

“You. Kid. Since you can’t keep your mouth shut, why don’t you go answer the door.”  I gave a sweeping motion with my gun toward the door, being careful not to aim it at him.  The boy looked at his mother who nodded reassuringly.  He walked cautiously to the door and pushed it open.  In a flash, all I could see was his back as he sprinted through the parking lot toward the parked police cars.

“Dang it!”  My look of disapproval toward Mrs. Daniels was met with a shrug and a smug smile.

Before the front door could fully close, it landed in the paw of a large man in an even larger police uniform.  Chief Hardy was the size of a bear and I chuckled to myself as I pictured a bear in cop’s clothing.  

“Focus!” I muttered to myself.  “Stay back!” I yelled to the Chief.  “You’re not the negotiator.  Why didn’t they send a negotiator?”  I sputtered a little as the wool from the mask got stuck to my lips.

Chief Hardy gave a half smile under his bushy black mustache.

“Who’s ‘they’, Marcus?” He didn’t wait for a response.  “What are you doing here?”  He motioned to the four remaining hostages, his powerful fist still clutching a half eaten bearclaw; the irony of which was lost on me at the time.

“What does it look like I’m doing?  I’m robbing the bank!”

The Chief took a nonchalant bite of his donut before responding.

“What exactly are you going to take, Marcus?  There’s no money here.”

“Of course there’s money here, its a bank.” I spat.

“You think anyone in this town has enough money to keep in a fancy bank? Everybody ‘round here is just as broke as you are, son.  Even if they did, you think they’d just hand over their hard earned cash to somebody they don’t know?”

“Well how’s the bank stay in business, if nobody’s using it?”

“Loans, obviously.  Ain’t nobody got any money, so they have to take out loans to buy stuff.  The bank makes money off the interest.”

“What interest?”

“The interest from the loans.”

“I’m not interested in loans, I came for cash.” I barked in frustration.

The Chief sighed and motioned to the hostages.

“You’re all here for loans, right?”

Everyone nodded, including the teller and the bank manager.

“See,” he nodded to the vault as he continued.  “Look for yourself.  Vault is wide open.”

I sidestepped quickly to the vault, keeping my eye on the bear.  I was beyond panic now and was glad the mask was hiding my agony.  The Chief isn’t right though.  There has to be money here.

I turned into the vault and the wet wool muffled the whimper that escaped my lips.  The piles of cash I expected were none existent.  The room was empty.

I turned to face humility just in time to see the bank door swinging shut and the backs of my four hostages as they ran to safety.  The Chief, his bearclaw gone, checked his wristwatch impatiently.  I put my plastic gun on the counter next to the silent alarm and removed my sweaty mask.

“Have you gotten new handcuffs yet?  Those old one’s pinched real bad.”

June 18, 1831 – Morris Code Is Aneurysmed Into Existence

On the morning of June 18, 1831, the world was introduced inadvertently to the first rudimentary form of “texting” through an event that would ignite communications technology development spanning almost two centuries. I’m speaking of course about the creation of the Morris Code, which, though similar, should not be confused with the more commonly known Morse Code, which was created a full five years later.

That fateful morning in 1831, Dwayne Morris, a  well respected New York City prosecutor, suffered a series of minor ordinary inconveniences (i.e. spilled his coffee, stubbed his toe, ran out of toilet paper, etc).  On any other morning, these events would have only soured the lawyer’s mood, but due to mounting pressure from a high profile case he was working, these became the catalyst for a debilitating mental breakdown.   Seconds before he was to give his closing arguments, somewhere in the area of his brain that controlled  speech, a wire became crossed as a fuse burned out and Morris’ speech was reduced to a series of high pitched beeps and erratic screeches.  As you can imagine, those who witnessed this event immediately labeled Morris insane, costing him the case.

The laughing stock of the law world, Morris descended into a deep depression and refused to see anyone.  It wasn’t until a year later that Morris’ wife, in an effort to lift his spirits, hired a young painter/inventor named Samuel Morse to come to the house to paint a portrait of her husband.  After much beeping and screeching, Morris finally conveyed through exasperated arms that he would concede to having his portrait painted.  Now if you’ve ever had your portrait painted (which I’m assuming most of you have), it’s a long and grueling process to hold a continuous pose.  In an effort to make the time go faster, Morse, unaware of Morris’ condition struck up a conversation, only to be met with a frustrated tirade of beeps and screeches from behind his easel.  For the genius mind of Morse, it didn’t take long to recognize a pattern developing in the beeps and screeches and soon the two men were hard at work deciphering the meanings behind each sequence of sounds.  As the two men mastered the new language, a friendship blossomed and they even developed a shorthand of saying things which was remarkably similar to the acronyms used in modern day “texting”.

In the summer of 1935, Morse began telling Morris of his idea to convert his “beep/screech language”, which they had dubbed “Morris Code”, into a series of electric pulses that could be carried over wire for long distance.  He was certain it would be a communications breakthrough and make both men very rich.  Unfortunately, Morris had never been a fan of witchcraft, which he assumed this to be and he asked Morse to never speak of it again.  Only two weeks later, Morris arrived home to find his study in disarray and the notes and research that he and Morse had compiled to be missing.  Scrawled in large dots and dashes across his desk were four simple letters in Morris Code:  YOLO.   He never heard from Samuel Morse again.
Though it seems like a tragic end to the story of Dwayne Morris, he was not entirely forgotten by history.  A small group of Morris supporters still exist today and are unusually vocal about their disdain for the Morse Code (many still believe it to be witchcraft and Tweet about it constantly).  Most people don’t know, but the famous puppeteer Jim Henson was a “Morris man” and created his lovable Muppet character Beaker as a tribute to his hero.

The Ten Second Law

My fellow Americans, a little over a month ago I announced my bid for President of the United States of America.  When I initially made my decision, I assumed that seizing the role of Leader of the Free World would be a slam-dunk-cake-walk, which is why I’ve done absolutely no campaigning since.  As it turns out, this blog does not have the extensive reach that I initially thought, a fault I blame entirely on the lethargic nature of my readership who can’t seem to find the energy to click the “share” button on their Facebook feed, but somehow has time to take online quizzes to find out what Disney princess they’re most in tune with (I got Ariel because of my affinity for wearing undergarments made of sea shells).  Anyway, since my announcement, a number of other affable clowns have joined the Presidential race, not the least of which being Donald Trump who announced his bid this week, and it occurred to me that I may need to set myself apart from the Clinton’s and Bush’s of the world.  To do this I will begin to outline some of my key objectives to accomplish during my time in office.  I will not apologize to anyone whom the following may offend, but here are two planks of my Presidential platform which I believe to be hot topics of the day:

  1.  The “Ten Second Rule” to become the “Ten Second Law” – Some of you germaphobes are cringing right now as most of you are probably aware of the scientific theory that if you drop a piece of food on the floor, you actually have ten seconds to retrieve it before it becomes too contaminated to consume (the “ten second rule” becomes the “five second rule” when eating in public restrooms; for sanitation reasons, obviously).  By making this “rule” a law, people will be required to pick up any dropped food and consume it.  This will cut down on food waste and littering all in one.  And no, the rich will not be allow to hire others to eat their rogue food droppings for them.  It may sound socialist, but everyone is on the same level here.
  1.  Men’s Facial Hair Handbook – Under my regime… er.. I mean, administration, certain criteria will need to be met before men (or women, if they so choose) are allowed to grow large amounts of facial hair.  I remember the good old days when large beards were reserved for Special Forces soldiers, lumberjacks and desert island castaways, but today any idiot with the patience to do so is able to sport a beard.  My regulations and criteria will mainly be an attempt on my part to diminish the livelihood of “hipsters” who are currently overrunning our cities and towns with their ironic t-shirts and nifty hats.  The average person will not have any difficulty meeting the criteria set forth.   If you’re a male and you’re reading this, take a look at your legs.  If you’re not currently wearing skinny jeans, you’re probably fine.

Finally, before I leave you for today, I’d like to warn you about the dangers of voting for Rick Perry.  I’m pretty sure he’s the guy who made all those “Madea” movies and that this is just an elaborate plan to gain access to the White House to film “Rick Perry’s: Madea Goes To Washington” which is not surprisingly the prequel to “Madea Goes To Jail”.

I’m Brett Allen and I approve this message.

I’m Brett Allen And I Approve This Message

Its that time again.  Like chinese water torture, the American Presidential campaign system has slowly started drip, drip, dripping on the collective forehead of America’s sanity (what little is left).  True to form, the bombardment has started a healthy year and half before the actual elections, ensuring that all of us are too disgusted and annoyed to pay attention to what is really going on when its actually time to vote.  And nevermind the fact that on election day we’re, without fail, left to choose between two candidates who make such extreme (and yet somehow incredibly vague) promises, that they can’t help but polarize the two political parties against each other with the end result of four more years of a political paralysis.

Now recently, there have been rumors flying surrounding the infrequency of my blog posts over the past months and I’d like to put those rumors to bed.  First, the rumor that my blog had been “bought out” by a national media syndicate is sadly not true because nobody reads this garbage except you.  Second, the rumor that the stresses of having a new puppy and a toddler spurred my quick descent into madness, leaving me muttering and rocking nervously in random corners of my house in between games of fetch, is only a half truth.  The reality behind my self-inflicted hiatus from Hogwash is that, in the spirit of the season, I have formed an exploratory committee for presidential election and after numerous days of badgering my friends, family, coworkers and neighbors, I am proud to announce my bid for candidacy for President of the United States in 2016.

I know what you’re going to say already, which is that I’m too young to be President and that I must legally be 35 years old to be nominated. I’ve already solved this problem and burned all copies of my birth certificate last night.  You’re probably also thinking that I don’t have enough political experience, but I ask you, what is “political experience” if not professional lying?  Which is essentially what I’ve been doing on this blog for the last year; and at least I’m honest about my lying.  There’s nothing worse than someone who lies about being a liar.  Finally, some of you may even be thinking that I’m not smart enough to be President.   Well the heck with all you people, I don’t need your vote anyway.

Understanding that to get the nomination for either major political party, I would have to become a slave to lobbyist and special interest groups, I have decided to form my own independent political party called appropriately, The Hogwash Party (also known as The Party Party because we’re a political party that likes to have a good time).  The central platform of the Hogwash Party will be to focus internally on making America great again.  One of my cornerstone programs will be modeled after Franklin Roosevelt’s Works Program Act (W.P.A.) which helped put Americans back to work during The Great Depression.  My program, known as Working Helps Improve Patriotism Program (W.H.I.P.P.), will replace the current entitlement based welfare system and force people that can, to earn their money.  Our tagline will be “Sweat For Swag” to appeal to the youngster out there.  And lets face it, there’s a lot of folks out there who could use a W.H.I.P.P.ing.

Finally, you may be worried that with another candidate in the mix it will just be one more set of annoying advertisements you have to put up with until November 2016.  Don’t worry, there won’t be any TV ads because I don’t have any money.  My lack of campaign funds will not hinder my efforts though and I’ll capitalize on the use of social media to spread my message.  I figure if I tack an ad onto the end of every YouTube video featuring a cat playing the piano I should be able to reach most Americans.  If I can get my hands on a video of Justin Bieber getting hit the crotch with a wiffleball bat, you’d all probably make me Emperor.

Spread the Hogwash word and vote for Brett in 2016!

*I’m Brett Allen and I approve this long rambling message.

April 1, 1536 – April Foals’ Day

On April 1, 1536, the first official “April Fools’ Day” was celebrated in London, England under the rule of King Henry VIII.  Though relatively harmless fun in modern times, the pranks and hoaxes the holiday is known for have a rather grim origin.  The first April Fools’ Day began when the King’s court jester or “fool”, was brainless enough to joke about the King’s notorious six failed marriages. King Henry’s reaction to this lighthearted ribbing, was somewhat disproportionate to the offense and the fool was promptly beheaded, as was the custom of the time.  Very, very gradually over the years, April Fools’ Day pranks transitioned from public beheadings to the more psychologically and emotionally scarring pranks we endure today.

The “unofficial” origins of the holiday extend back centuries further to the ancient Druids, who would mark the day by celebrating the spring births of their horses (April Foals’ Day).  The intent of the holiday was  a serious celebration of new beginnings, the departure of the cold, cruel winter, and the arrival of Spring, but usually ended up being a bunch of drunk assholes throwing horse placentas at each other.

Over the years different countries have developed their own traditions for April Fools’ Day.  For instance, in Scotland, April Fools’ Day is traditionally called Huntigowk Day, which translates to “Hunt the Gowk” Day (a “gowk” being Scotish for “foolish”).  As part of the holiday tradition, villagers would cast votes for the most foolish person in town. The winning fool was dubbed “the gowk”.  The entire village was then invited to hunt the unlucky bastard, who was sent out into the Scottish moors with nothing but a pat on the kilt and a three hour head start.  It would be years later that American author (of Scottish descent) Richard Connell would capture an adaptation of this grisly tradition in his classic short story, “The Most Dangerous Game” (originally titled “The Gowk That Got Away”).

I hope you have found this enlightening and if someone tries to April Fool you today, you can explain to them that no matter what they do to you, it beats being beheaded or hunted like wild game.  While these uneducated individuals are trying to figure out what in the hell you’re talking about, you can take that opportunity to throw a horse placenta at them and make your exit (horse placentas can be found wherever hipsters shop).

Happy Fools Day from Hogwash!!!

March 14, 1749 – Franklin’s “Benny Bots”

March 14, 1749, Benjamin Franklin, hungover from an early St. Patrick’s Day celebration, invented the first working lightning rod under the false pretense that he meant to make people’s homes and buildings safer from lightning.  Franklin had long been known as an inventor, having been the brains behind such inventions as bifocals, the odometer, and the flexible urinary catheter.  In actuality Franklin’s lightning rod was created for something much different.  He was secretly looking to harness electricity to power his recently assembled droid army.  Having long anticipated a split from the British throne, Franklin wanted to ensure that America’s future would be secure with his so called “Benny Bots”.

Understanding the paranoia of the time and not wanting to be accused of witchcraft (or warlock-craft in his case) Franklin kept his Benny Bots pretty close to the vest for many years.  When it became obvious that separation from the British Empire was close and a war was inevitable, Franklin presented his creation to his fellow Founding Fathers.  In what has often been considered the first official democratic vote in America, a landslide decision was reached to burn Franklin at the stake for “flagrant warlockness”.  It was only at the last minute that General George Washington and his giant pet eagle (see July 4, 1776 – ‘Murica Day for more detail) stepped in to save Mr. Franklin.  Franklin was given the opportunity to explain the science behind his invention in order to salvage his reputation, but few of the Founding Fathers actually listened as they were too busy giggling and daring each other to test out the flexible urinary catheter.  After a failed test battle at Thomas Jefferson’s house left half of Monticello in ruins, the droids were sidelined for good.  The Benny Bots sat in storage for over a century until they were finally purchased at auction in 1928 from the government by a fledgling Motorola company, eventually leading to the droid cell phones we see today.

Note: It is said that on his death bed, Benjamin Franklin, in a moment of prophetic clarity quietly whispered “hello moto” before passing away.

Here’s a fun, little known, fact for you Star Wars fans out there.  In Star Wars: Episode 1, George Lucas actually used the original Franklin Benny Bot blueprints to design the look of his Trade Federation droids who battled the Gungans in the second half of the movie.  Another piece Lucas tied in was the knowledge that Franklin also had an assistant by the name of Dr. Jarvis Binks, whom was often called “Jar Jar” as a nickname.  Everyone hated him too.

February 14, 496 A.D. – St. Carl “Valentine” Kawalski

Everyone knows that Valentine’s Day is named after St. Valentine, a 3rd century man who is the patron saint of lovers. What most people don’t know, however, is that St. Valentine’s real name was Carl Kawalski and he was also the patron saint of head trauma patients. But Carl had not always been a saint.  Carl’s neighbor had been a fellow by the name of Saint Frank, who happened to be the patron saint of jealous pricks (a surprising number of regular folks became self proclaimed “saints” in the 3rd Century, due to general boredom in what historians widely refer to as the “dullest century on record”). Carl’s jealously of St. Frank spurred his pursuit of sainthood for himself, whereupon he began referring to himself as Saint Valentine (the name had been taken from a childhood dog, who coincidentally had also been a patron saint).

Carl began to experiment with different “patronisms”, as he called them, to find his specialty. Carl tried being the patron saint of many things; eating contests, carnival games, karaoke, carpet laying, breaking and entering, aggravated assault, alcoholism, arrow catching, arrow removal/flesh wounds, and lint collecting just to name a few. Nothing seemed to fit. On February 14, 496 A.D., in an attempt to become the patron saint of bowling ball juggling, Carl was left with irreversible brain damage. He spent the remainder of his life doling out drool covered hugs and cutting tiny red hearts out of construction paper. Thus we have the beginning of our Valentine’s Day traditions; and the reason why bowling ball juggling on February 14th is illegal.

Carl’s deeds were eventually lost to history until 1912, when careful research and some slight story embellishments by an American man named Joyce Clyde Hall, lead to his canonization by the Catholic Church.  The successful canonization propelled Joyce Hall’s then fledgling “Hall Brothers” greeting card business onto the national scene.  You know them better today as Hallmark.  This is why Valentine’s Day is often referred to as a “Hallmark Holiday”.

In the words of the great Paul Harvey, “now you know the rest of the story.”

February 2, 1886 – Punxsutawney Carl And The Groundhog Day Mauling

On this day in 1887, the first Groundhog Day (as we know it today) was celebrated at Gobbler’s Knob in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania.  A newspaper editor belonging to the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club (a group of groundhog hunters) declared Phil, Punxsutawney’s groundhog, to be the only true weather predicting rodent in America.  Tradition states that if Phil sees his shadow he will retreat back into his hole and there will be six more weeks of winter.  He will then be the most loathed creature in America.  The year prior, in 1886, the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club, which was then known as the Punxsutawney Black Bear Club (guess what they hunted) tried to hold a celebration on the same principles.  Unfortunately, instead of seeing his shadow after emerging from hibernation, the bear known as Punxsutawney Carl saw the seven sportsman gathered outside his den and gave them all good mauling.  The group changed its name the following day and decided to hunt a slightly easier prey.  *Note: Gobbler’s Knob is named after Thomas Myron Gobbler, who lost his arm to Carl, leaving only a knob in its place.

America is not the only country to celebrate this holiday.  For instance, Russia used to hold a similar Groundhog Day celebration, but that all changed when Vladimir Putin became acting President on December 31, 1999.  Putin, using intelligence he had gathered during his time in the KGB, formed a case against the Moscow Marmot, resulting in his banishment to a Siberian labor camp.  It is said that the Moscow Marmot befriended an aging COL Bananapants (for more information read here) who helped him finally get over his fear of shadows.  As for Groundhog Day in Russia currently, it is celebrated by Putin riding a pure white horse while shirtless through the streets of Moscow.  Citizens of Moscow are expected to emerge from their homes to witness the “parade”, but may not look directly at their President.  Instead they must only gaze at his shadow because if they were to inadvertently make eye contact with him, he would “make sure that winter never ended for them.”

On a final note, there have been 54 Punxsutawney Phil’s since the first Groundhog Day in 1887.  The tradition of the U.S. President pardoning the Thanksgiving Turkey actually started with the pardoning of the Punxsutawney Phil, as he was typically killed and eaten if his weather prediction were incorrect.  This tradition was stopped when local meteorologist began getting similar threats.

January 22, 1932 – iFlu: The Robots In Your Brain

On this day in 1932, roughly one year after the creation of the first flu vaccine, a group of shadowy figures held a meeting at the NSA headquarters known as The Black Chamber on East 37th St in Manhattan.  The group, then known as MI-8, had been “officially shut down” by the government over three years prior to remove them from the public eye, but “unofficially” continued to operate stronger than ever.  The meeting being held was for one simple reason; to figure out how to use the mass distribution of a vaccine to control the masses.

Over the decades the NSA has secretly experimented on the American public with varying concoctions of their yearly “flu shot”.  Generally, the chemical experimentation yielded such subtle results that the general public did not notice.  There were exceptions to this however.  In the mid to late 1960’s, a batch of flu shots laced with the experimental drug LSD, led to the birth of the Hippies and the counter-culture revolution.  Perhaps this is why, despite close quarters and poor sanitary conditions, the number of Woodstock patrons falling ill with the virus was remarkably low.

In recent years, the NSA’s techniques have become more sophisticated.  With the unacknowledged invention of nanorobots, the government can now essentially “LoJack” its citizens.  The nanorobots, nicknamed iFlu by the NSA, perform a number of functions within the human body, ranging from standard GPS tracking functions to sophisticated manipulation of neurological signals to render its hosts docile and infatuated with dim witted entertainment.  See, its not your fault you like “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo” or “Keeping Up With The Kardashians”… its the robots in your brain that made you do it. (For a better understanding of the nanorobot concept, please watch the documentary “Inner Space” starring Martin Short).

Finally, you may be wondering how an operation this big could be kept secret so long.  The answer takes us back to those shadowy figures in The Black Chamber in 1932, one of which was none other than Charles Walgreen Sr., creator of the Walgreen’s pharmacy.  To this day, every Walgreen’s employee is a trained NSA operative, but don’t ask them about it or they’ll go Jason Borne all over you.

Long story short, this is why your flu shot never works, not because “it was a different strain of virus this year” and this is why I personally don’t get them.  I’m also aware that due to the rigid rule of irony, I’ll likely be retching uncontrollably into the toilet tomorrow, but at least I won’t have robots in my brain.

*Side note:  The “Nasal-Drip Flu Vaccine” was invented as part of a drunken bet between coworkers at the annual NSA Christmas party to see how many ordinary people would actually allow themselves to be subjected to something like that.