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This is a stickup! [bank - open]
Carl was having a bad day. He'd missed lunch because the sandwich counter misplaced his order, and he couldn't wait around to get another. When he held the door open for the lovely young woman and attempted small talk with her, she had shot him down coldly. The pants of his guard uniform were too tight, indicating he had to go on a diet again. And now two men in butterfly costumes had touched down on the sidewalk just outside the doors of the bank.
"Great. Longjohns," he thought. "Lame, evil longjohns."
Angrily, Carl slammed the emergency lock button next to him. One of the butterfly-men, attempting to burst through the door, found it closed fast, and crashed into it. He bounced back, dazed, his mask slightly askew. The tall one laughed at his clumsy partner. The fat one yelled something in response, and the tall one, still snickering, trotted over to the nearby window. He pulled something from inside his unitard - a small metal thing like a pen - and pressed the tip against the glass. It made a "pop," and the entire window collapsed into tiny blue chips. Carl had his gun drawn and trained on one of the men by the time they were both inside the bank.
"Freeze!"
The tall one drew a tiny, yellow gun and, pointing it at Carl, went into a roll. Carl managed to squeeze off a shot, catching the intruder in the calf, and making him squawk like a frightened sheep. At the end of his roll, the tall one fired and something hit Carl's neck. He pulled it out - it was a little dart with yellow butterfly wings. As he felt his eyes closing and his limbs grow heavy he saw the other intruder perform a timid (and pointless) somersault in an attempt to prove his own prowess. Carl collapsed on the floor and saw no more.
"All right, people," said 21, standing up from his acrobatic feat, "this is a stickup!"
"Great. Longjohns," he thought. "Lame, evil longjohns."
Angrily, Carl slammed the emergency lock button next to him. One of the butterfly-men, attempting to burst through the door, found it closed fast, and crashed into it. He bounced back, dazed, his mask slightly askew. The tall one laughed at his clumsy partner. The fat one yelled something in response, and the tall one, still snickering, trotted over to the nearby window. He pulled something from inside his unitard - a small metal thing like a pen - and pressed the tip against the glass. It made a "pop," and the entire window collapsed into tiny blue chips. Carl had his gun drawn and trained on one of the men by the time they were both inside the bank.
"Freeze!"
The tall one drew a tiny, yellow gun and, pointing it at Carl, went into a roll. Carl managed to squeeze off a shot, catching the intruder in the calf, and making him squawk like a frightened sheep. At the end of his roll, the tall one fired and something hit Carl's neck. He pulled it out - it was a little dart with yellow butterfly wings. As he felt his eyes closing and his limbs grow heavy he saw the other intruder perform a timid (and pointless) somersault in an attempt to prove his own prowess. Carl collapsed on the floor and saw no more.
"All right, people," said 21, standing up from his acrobatic feat, "this is a stickup!"