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Artymiss Fowl robs a bank



Artymiss cackled like a deranged ape as he sat holstered in his pink booster seat. The young boy grabbed at his bowl of Cheerios and stuffed them into his mouth. The cereal spilled over his designer suit. While he chewed, he bent his head low, grinning and rubbing his short fingers together in an attempt to scheme. Buttlah grunted as he sat in the driver’s seat, manning the car. Buttlah was Artymiss’s bodyguard, hired by Artymiss’s concerned family. He had muscles literally the size of bazooka barrels, and a shaven bald head that shone like the moon on a clear night.

Suddenly, Artymiss, the “criminal mastermind”, went silent. For a couple minutes, Buttlah drove in silence. The hulking bodyguard nervously looked back once or twice to see if his young charge had escaped, but he was still in his seat. Suddenly, Artymiss broke the silence. “Buttlah!” he called. “I think I wet my pants again!”

Buttlah rumbled like a pony who had a horse throat. He absolutely despised changing Artymiss’s diaper, but it was necessary if he wanted his paycheck. Buttlah stopped the family’s car, got out, and did the deed. Even though Artymiss was thirteen, he wasn’t potty-trained. It was as if a toddler had taken control of a young boy’s body.

After he had donned new Huggies, Artymiss sighed. Nothing refreshed like a new change of underwear. “Buttlah, its time for my new master plan; We will rob a bank!” Artymiss announced. Buttlah grinned. He loved these missions. “Now you’re talking, Arty. Let’s go!”

Buttlah jumped back into his driver’s seat and sped toward Bank of America. When they arrived. Artymiss cackled again. “Okay Buttlah! I will cause the diversion, and you will get the cash.” Buttlah scratched his bald head, not sure whether the plan was accurate. “Are you sure this will work Arty?” Artymiss grinned and rattled his booster seat restraints. “Let me out Buttlah, I’m sure it will work.” Buttlah shrugged and opened the door. He was bound to this young child, no matter the circumstances. Artymiss jumped out of the Bentley and stretched his short limbs. He yawned loudly, making the line of people waiting by the ATM look over cautiously. Buttlah slipped out his inconspicuous black duffel and slipped into the bank. He didn’t trust his charge to not stay arrested for an hour, but it was Arty’s plan.

Buttlah waited by the glass doors, and watched as Artymiss shrieked with sudden enthusiasm, and pulled out his nerf blaster. Buttlah had bought it as a present for Artymiss, as he had not wet his undies for a week in a row. Buttlah grunted, incredulous, as Artymiss brought down the plastic gun and fired a couple rounds at an old lady hobbling toward the ATM machine. She screamed like a moose and fell onto her hip. Everyone in line at the ATM scattered. There was a wild killer on the loose, and he had taken his first victim! The tellers inside the bank acted immediately, alerting the security guards and the local police. Metal cage doors slid over the glass doors, preventing anyone from getting outside or in. Buttlah watched, helpless, as the police cars pulled up. Artymiss screamed like a maniac, firing his plastic rounds at the cops as they tried to subdue the child. He took out a couple with a roundhouse that Buttlah himself had taught him, but there were too many. He was arrested promptly, and driven off in a patrol car, surrounded by a dozen backup cars.

Buttlah sighed. This was going to make a dent in his paycheck, and it would take some talking to release the boy.

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