The gun nervously shook as it was pressed against the sweaty forehead of the grey haired man.
"Stand up," said the ski-masked figure. Dutifully, the grey haired man got up from where he sat on the toilet seat. His pants remained crumpled around his ankles. A short release of piss streamed down from between his legs.
"Shit, I mean, you could have finished," said the bandit, as he raised his hands and stepped backwards "Just do what you have to do. Quickly."
The man sat down, wiped himself and stood back up. He pulled up his pants and zipped up.
"Harry?" called a voice from outside the bathroom. "What's taking you so fucking long?"
"Nothing," shouted the ski masked figure. "Everything's okay!"
"What do you want?" asked the grey haired man. His red face swelled and dripped.
"You are the manager of the Mutual Bank on Georgia street, yes?" asked the face behind the black ski-mask.
"Yes," said the man.
"Excellent. Then you should know what this is about."
The sound of footsteps running up a staircase came from beyond the closed door. The two men remained facing each other, the ski-masked man pointing his gun at the other's chest. For a moment the two were silent. Then the door slammed open, and another ski-masked figure stepped into the room.
"Harry?" asked the new man.
"Yep, everything's fine, Trev." said Harry. "I was just about to tell Mr. Young here about what's going to happen."
"I'd like to know what you think you're going to do," said the manager.
"We're gonna steal your money," said Trevor.
"That's right, Mr. Young," said Harry. "In one hour, we're going to take you to your bank. You'll then assist us in making a withdrawl. So to speak."
"I... I can't do that," said Mr. Young.
"If you don't," said Harry, "We'll shoot your bloody kids. Trevor? The children are tied up downstairs, right?"
"Right," said Trevor. He smiled through the hole in his mask.
"No, I mean I can't do that," said Mr. Young. "The doors are locked and barricaded. They're on a timer... Not even I can get in. Nobody can get in. I can't get in."
"Bullshit," said Harry.
"Jesus, man," said the manager. "Take me out there if you want, but I swear to God, you won't be able to get in."
"That's not how it works!" yelled Harry. "That's not how it's supposed to work!"
Harry elbowed Mr. Young and pushed him against the white tiled walls of the bathroom. He lifted the gun to the man's head and pushed it hard into his forehead.
"You can kill me," said Mr. Young, staring at Harry, "But the doors aren't opening for you tonight."
"Fuck!" yelled Hary. He stepped backwards, but kept the gun aimed at the red-faced manager. He lowered his voice. "God damn it this isn't how it happened."
"What are you talking about, Harry?" said Trevor. "How what happened?"
"The movie," said Harry. "This isn't how it happened in the movie."
"Movie?" asked Trevor.
"Nothing, just. I dunno," said Harry.
"Harry, do you know what you're doing?" asked Trevor. "We still can get the fuck out of here."
"No," said Harry. "We're going to do this. We've got the kids tied up. We've got guns."
"What are we gonna do, but?" asked Trevor.
"We're going to rob a fucking bank!"
