A Curious Tale of Avarice
Shambock threw the fifties and one hundreds into a loose canvas bag. They looked like a million dollars now. She knew what a mil looked like, oh did she ever. If it wasn't for Vince and his pals, she would still be in Fat City. Now she lived from bank job to bank job and often couldn't afford her favorite treats. But being a teller didn't pay well, and they kept firing her when she borrowed from the vault.
Oh well - Shambock had never been about living by somebody else's little checklist. She consulted her own checklist on the fridge and nodded knowingly - okay, now for the mask. It was black, of course, because black was her favorite color - the color of night, and, well, other dark things.
She went down her back stairs, and again noticed the puke green sedan with the tinted windows, parked at the curb.
"Mom!" she yelled in wrath. "Go home, leave me alone!" Her mom had been following her for a week now, almost as though she suspected something, but that was impossible, of course. Her mom still thought she sang in the tabernacle choir and raised 5 kids with perfect grade points. She yelled again: "I'm late for my salsa class, but we'll come over on Sunday" and then ran. She couldn't let anyone get in the way of this, the ultimate bank job; she'd never heard of anyone even attempting this. Behind her, the car accelerated smoothly, a sack lunch held out the driver side window.
"Thanks, mom," she called as she grabbed it. "I love you, too." Now she could keep her carefully-researched schedule and keep up her energy too. But her mom kept parallel with her as she ran, and wouldn't go away.
"Fine, I'll cut you in for 10%!" she screamed as she picked up her pace. It would be easy to do, she just didn't have time for it now; if she didn't get the money into the vault before the armored car showed up, the whole thing was shot.
"Dear, your father always gave me 25%," her mom said, adjusting her cat's eye glasses.
"Yeah, well, 50% of it was yours by law, mom - you got gypped!" With that, she abruptly turned left and cut through someone's yard. She got within 100 yards of the bank when the green sedan showed up again.
"Mother, you're pushing it" she grumbled and pulled on the mask in one fluid motion. It was a practiced motion, which she'd spent hours at, grumbling while pulling the mask over her head; the how-to video from the library had been invaluable. She flew into the merchants accounts line, unrecognizable in her mask, plopped her bag on the counter with a huff and said, "I'd like to make a deposit, please!"
"Certainly, Miss Chambock, just fill out a deposit slip and don't forget to sign it."
"You sign that and I shall never speak to you again," came her mother's voice from behind. "I want my 25%." Shambock bowed her head in her hand. That's what she got for living at home.
