To End Troubles

[DoF Archive]

Date: 4/21/2002 6:11 PM Central Daylight Time
From: Disoriented Art


"Yo! Are ya list’nin’?" Art pounded his large fist against the wobbly card table, sending the perching bottles of rolling Rock over his shoulder and toward the squabbling twins.
"We ain’t mean ta make ya angry, Arty," the first twin replied hastily, drawling back a few feet.
"Yah, sorry man," the other stammered, wiping the beer from his face with an old newspaper.
"As I was sayin’," Art continued. "We’s gots ta hit all three at once."
"We ain’t gonna be together, then?" Piped in the first twin, receiving a silencing punch from his brother.
"Yah, that’s what Art said." The first twin looked to his brother, face full of worry. He rubbed his arm and looked back to Art.
"Would you two morons stop your crap for one second?" Art stood, a stern look appearing on his face. "The cops ain’t gonna think we’d hit all three banks at once. All’s we gotta do is get us a driver, an’ they ain’t gonna catch us."
"How’s we gonna be in three places at once, Arty?" The first twin canted his head, though it was quickly set back to it’s normal positioning by a sharp punch from his brother. This time, Art didn’t bother to intercede.
"Ain’t ya hear a damn thing Art said, man? We’s gotta split up."
"Yah," Art nodded his head, shifting in his positioning along the stool. "The cops’ll go ta the first bank, an’ then there won’t be nobodies ta stop us from robbin’ the rest."
"But the first guy’ll get caught, Arty!’ The first twin bobbed his head up and down disapprovingly, his brother agreeing this time.
"Yah, Art. We’d be a sittin’ duck out there, especially wit’ that long trip the getaway’ll have ta take."
Art shook his head, unfolding a map on the beer sodden table. "No, man. Look at where the police station is." He rummaged through the garbage on the floor, bringing, finally, a pencil to the table. He circled a distinct dot on the map, drawing above it a badge.
"There’s the police."
The pencil was then brought down about a foot, poking a dot in the map. "Here’s the first bank." He then drew a "1," above the dot. Shifting the pencil a few inches to the left, he poked another hole in the map. A "2," drawn above it. "There’s the second bank."
"An’ last but not least, the third bank." Art poked the pencil into the map, then drew a "3," above it. He then circled that hole in the map.
"Chris," Art pointed to the first twin, then circled the number one he had draw.
"Yah, Arty?" Chris, apparently the dumber of the two, canted his head to the side.
"You’ll take the first bank." Art started to draw a line from the number one to a corner a few blocks away. The path was oblique with many turns, only to go a short distance.
"You’ll drop the car off here."
"I ain’t walkin’, Arty!" Chris whined, kicking his foot against the leg of the card table.
"You’ll walk if I tell ya ta walk, moron!" Art yelled, then sat down in his seat. "But I ain’t tellin’ ya ta walk. Our driver’ll pick ya up."
Chris nodded, then breathed a sigh of relief.
"An’ you," Art pointed to the other twin, drawing a circle around the number two and then a line similar to that from the number one.
"Undastand, Jim?" The look on Art’s face saying that he’d better understand, as he didn’t feel like explaining it over again.
"Yah, Art, I gots ya." Jim nodded his head, then studied the map closely. After memorizing his route, he picked up the map, and jabbed it into his brother’s stomach.
"Look at it, moron!"
"I got it, man, shut the hell up." Chris jabbed his brother, then sat up in his chair, looking at the map.
"So, first off, the reason the first man ain't gettin' caught I'mma be him. An' the first spot's so far from the station that they ain't neva gonna get me."
"Y’all best not mess this up, ‘cause I ain’t savin’ ya butts."
He reached down into the cooler, grabbing a bottle of Rolling Rock then strode to the door.
"This one’ll end all our troubles, boys." The door was shoved open, and he went out to find a driver.