Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Move Over John Dillinger, There's A New Gun In Town



Move Over John Dillinger, There's A New Gun In Town

I feel like doing something dangerous today. So I've decided to rob a bank. Naked.

I know. You're wondering, Why naked?

I don't know. I figure you need a disguise, and no one in the bank has seen me naked before, so I think it's a great disguise.

Sure it has its limitations. I won't have any extra pockets to stuff cash into. That might be a problem.

And I guess some tall, busty, D-cup teller might not take me seriously. She might say something like, "Did you forget to bring a real gun?"

That might be just enough to arouse some masculinity issues and screw up the whole caper. But as long as the air conditioning isn't cranked up to super-cold, I should be OK. You don't need to be like John Dillinger, dangling a 12-gauge shotgun to make an impression. John Wilkes Booth killed President Lincoln, and all he was packing was a tiny derringer.

Here's another thing. Since I'll be naked, no one will be able to identify me by saying, "He was wearing cut-off blue jeans and a tie-dye T-shirt." Not that I would wear a tie-dye T-shirt or cut-off jeans, you understand. That's just an example. OK, I do own a tie-dye T, but I've never worn it. Well, I wore it to bed once, but, that night, I dreamt that Jimi Hendrix was hanging out at the foot of the bed and trying to light my red satin sheets on fire. OK, I don't own red satin sheets, but I thought that sounded kind of sexy. Not that I'm trying to be sexy, but who writes "faded blue flannel sheets" on a blog?

And, BTW, after so much summer sun, I have some very cool tan lines now. So when they call the police to report me, they'll have to say, "He was white, no he was African-American, no . . . white . . . no . . . Asian . . . no . . . ummm . . . a checkered-coloured dude." That has to work to my advantage, don't you think?

Being naked could also be an ace up my non-existent sleeve if the police do arrive and I have to switch the whole scene into some kind of hostage scenario. From any of the the movies I've seen, the bad guys always get the hostages to strip. I would do the same. Then, all those SWAT guys couldn't pick me out from the rest of the jiggy nudists running around inside the bank. I'm hoping that would bamboozle even the best trigger-finger-happy police sniper.

Oh, I know what you're thinking. They could call in the "ex" to identify me by having her peep through the windows using a long telescope. Don't worry. That's not a problem. For the last ten years of our marriage, she was too busy figuring out how to maximize her divorce/retirement fund by reading Cosmopolitan in bed to pay me any mind, and her memory has completely gone south ever since her hormones started going berserk.

I know, I know. You probably think that it's all just a crazy idea, that it's against the law, and that I might get my ass slapped in prison. But sometimes a man has to do what a man has to do. A little notoriety never hurt anyone. And just think, I might even make an appearance on CNN or any number of news channels on television.

Now that would be way cool.

After all, they say everything looks twice its real size on TV.
 






 








 
 


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