Artymiss, Maleb, And The Bank
Maleb Caddix whooped in his fiberglass restraints as his father, Madt, screeched into Fifth Third Bank’s parking lot in their Lamborghini. “LET’S GO! I’M NO AVERAGE, I’M SO SAVAGE!” Maleb shrieked. His seemingly boneless limbs flapped this way and that, destroying anything that was in their path.
“Shut your mouth son. We have a bank to rob!” Madt scolded his rather uncaring son. He quickly pulled out a pair of binoculars and efficiently scanned the transparent glass doors to the bank, looking for any buff security guards, but there were none. Madt grinned so savagely even his own son would approve. “Let’s get some MONEY!”
Madt grabbed his son by the throat and hauled out of the sport’s car. Maleb’s waving shoe accidently came into contact with the expensive glass window of Madt’s car (it wasn’t actually Madt’s, he stole it), shattering it. Madt glared at his son and tightened the chokehold on his neck. Maleb wheezed, struggling to bring air into his lungs.
Inside of the bank, Buttlah and his young, rather idiotic charge, Artymiss, were patiently waiting in line to make a quick “withdrawal”. Artymiss was gibbering to himself, drool leaking from his pale lips, as he crammed handful after handful of honey nut cheerios into his dirty mouth.
Buttlah was disgusted at the child’s behavior. He handed Artymiss a handkerchief. Artymiss grabbed it and choked it down. Buttlah grimaced and looked up. The bank teller was motioning for another customer to come forward. Buttlah smiled. Artymiss’s bail funds were running low. The bank was the perfect place to get extra money. Buttlah stepped forward, and withdrew his anti-tank missile launcher from his back jeans pocket. He aimed it at the teller, and poised his thick, muscular finger over the trigger. “I think you know what I want.” Buttlah growled. The bank teller, Billyete Ibn Fulan, shivered in her seat. At her last job at a bank, she had let two criminals get away with robbing the bank. Billyette opened the vault.
Buttlah grinned. “Arty! Money!” He set the missile launcher on the floor by the vault door and stepped inside. Artymiss howled with delight and helped Buttlah pile the cash piles into the duffel bags that Buttlah had produced.
Suddenly, the door to the bank vault creaked. Outside, stood Maleb and Madt. Madt still had a strong hand on Maleb’s neck, and the poor child was turning blue. The father stood horrified. The bank had already been robbed! Buttlah stood up and looked at the father-son duo. “Got here too late!” He cackled and held up a cash stack of 100 bills.
Maleb shrieked with sudden enthusiasm at the sight of money, and kicked widely, accidentally hitting the missile launcher’s trigger. Madt screamed with horror, and tried to leap backwards, but the action could not be undone. Artymiss watched curiously as the missile erupted from the barrel of the bazooka and came straight at him. “Hey look!” He said feebly, raising a weak finger. “It’s a carrot stick Buttlah! A carrot!” Artymiss giggled weakly, just as the missile exploded.