MY SUNDANCE KID MOMENT

I needed cash.  

Fistfuls of it.

"You comin'?"

Nod.

We saddled up and headed to the bank - well - credit union.

Clouds gathered as we sauntered along.

At the great glass door, we paused.

"You comin' in?"

"Nope."

"Good. Keepin' an eye out?"

"Nope.  Social distancing."

A red bandana draped around my neck.

I pulled the cravat over the bridge of my nose and entered.

Thunder clapped as the door cracked open.

A sudden downpour chorused behind me.

Glancing this way, then that, I advanced on the teller.

I slipped my debit card from its holster and slid it across the counter.

"Cash," I snarled. "Twenties."

Her eyes met mine.

She knew I meant business.

In a twinkling, a wad of (5) twenty dollar bills lay in front of me.

The teller thanked me...

...and called me by name.

So much for the mask, I thought.

Exiting, I found my partner drenched.

"What in the heck happened to you?"

"Raindrops," she said, "fallin' on my head."

As we sauntered home, I wondered:

Would that teller have been so cordial to Butch or Sundance?

(c) 2020

Church of the Open Road Press