Bank Robbers

“Get the fuck on the ground!” Oak screamed at him.

“Alan?” he said, as if he knew him. “Alan Oakley?”

Oak held a nonplussed look, concealed by the nylon mask, as he realized Jason Brent from Ada Harris Elementary had just recognized him.

“Alan Oakley,” Joan repeated, knowingly. “That’s an unusual name.”

Oak’s heart pounded like a war drum. The scratchy face mask was making him irritable. He desperately wanted to remove it. Despite the air conditioning, a deluge of sweat came through his facial pores. He felt plenty more of the nasty exudate of perspiration inside of his socks. They were inundated.

“Cut me in,” urged Joan, “And I’ll forget Alan Oakley’s peculiar name.”


About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)