The Bank Robbery

How we didn't end up arrested, I'll never understand.

Roger doesn't always wear his costume under his clothes. If he did I would be even more worried. It's only on certain mornings that he feels the need to don the orange and yellow costume under his suit and tuck his eye mask into his jacket pocket. He says that those mornings he just gets a feeling that he might need it. There's no flash of a vision or anything of the sort, he admitted after I pressed. Just a simple feeling. Most days nothing happens, and he ends up having to hand-wash his costume in the kitchen sick (while wearing gloves), hang it to drip dry over the bathtub for nothing. But about three months ago shortly after he left for work with his suit hiding his other identity, he actually revealed it to the world.

The first half of the day was ordinary. He reviewed the congressman's agenda, checked the online newspapers and blogs for mentions of the congressman's name, and left early for lunch to drop off the congressman's dry-cleaning.

We were meeting in the square before heading to lunch. I was planning on depositing money from yesterday's sales at the bookstore in the bank before I met up with Roger, but was running late. It was just supposed to be a quick stop before we walked to the cafe. I could tell something was up the moment we entered. I'm in the bank almost every day and know most of the tellers by name. When no one looked up and smiled at me, I stopped in the middle of whatever mundane thing I was saying to Roger. He didn't notice and continued talking about the congressman's latest interview.

Fuck. Bank robbery. There were actual robbers with actual ski masks and actual guns in the bank. I know the moment Roger realized what was happening because his whole body stiffened. It was just for a moment and then the fool burst into action. He had his eye mask on so fast I swear he must practice in front of the mirror though he denies it vehemently.

The buttons on his suit jacket popped off ricocheting across the room, hitting one of the robbers above his left eye. If you've never seen a grown man bound, it certainly is a sight to behold. Roger, all thirty three years of him with his slight pouch pressing against his costume, bounded across the bank lobby to the drinking fountain. At this point I think the bank robbers were just as in awe of the spectacle as the rest of us and that is the only reason why Roger wasn't shot.

Flexing his left arm high as if he were kissing his bicep he kicked on the fountain and held his right hand under the stream. At this point he gave the most ridiculous laugh. Roger believed that he was growing and was delirious with his own power. He suddenly withdrew his hand, pointing a finger at the nearest robber.

The robber tilted his head, leveled his gun at Roger, and began to squeeze the trigger.