Lately, I have neither been myself nor who I believe myself to be. I have led a good life in that I have generally been a good person but I do not know if I am that good person anymore. I do not know when this insurrection occurred. I originally thought that it might have been because of my divorces but the last one was over a year ago and only recently have I begun this self-destructive behavior. No, something clicked in my head. It is as if the little devils in my ear have taken over. They have killed off the angels who used to dominate them. The filter is gone. The wrong and right is slowly fading into just doing. I believe it was a gradual process over the period of a couple of weeks. Then again, is not everything a gradual process?  First it was the cigars.

 

I decided one day on my way home from work to stop at an Arby’s for one of those roast beef sandwiches. Somehow I was diverted from this quest to the cigar lounge right next door. I have never smoked anything before. My mother hated smoke and my grandfather died from smoking cigars. Maybe I was attracted to it by those fancy neon lights. Whatever the case, I walked right in the front door without even thinking about it. I completely forgot about my tasty roast-beef sandwich that had me salivating a few minutes before. Once inside, I was instantly over taken with the aroma saturating the place. The spicy smoke transported me back in time to my grandfather’s mobile home and the smells associated inside its pre-fabed walls. 

 

Trips to my grandfather’s were always a treat for my brother and me. My grandfather loved us and always made time to play with us. Him with his Swisher Sweet hanging out of his mouth, throwing lawn darts or horseshoes with us; us cuddled up on his Davenport watching Benny Hill, laughing until our sides hurt; the whole family sitting around the dining room table playing Uno until the wee hours of the morning. I’ll never forget the secret getaways from our parents to feast on the godly Pizza King pizzas. All these memories flashed in my head as I entered this lounge.

 

I walked directly up to the clerk and asked him what a good cigar was for someone just starting out. He kindly walked me into his humidor and picked out four cigars. He started to explain the nuances of the four but, I waved him off. I didn’t care if I offended him; I just wanted to smoke a cigar. He shrugged his shoulders and walked me back to the desk. He asked me if I wanted to enjoy one of them there. I told him that I most certainly did. That first cigar was magical. It wasn’t so much that I loved the smell of those cancer sticks, it was those memories of my grandfather that hooked me. Now, I smoke one almost daily.

 

A few days after the cigar incident, I was in the checkout lane of my local grocery store when a young woman came up and stood behind me. There was nothing exceptional about her but I asked her out on the spot anyway. Well, kinda.  I told her that I would make her dinner and we would rent some movies because, really, I did not want to take her out. The dinner I made but the movies we never got around to seeing. She called me the next day. I did not answer but instead, blocked her number. I still see her at the store and she stares me down. I have even gone into her same lane at checkout a couple of times. She tries to make small talk with me but I ignore her. I really do not know why I do this. Before the insurrection, I would have never asked this girl out in the first place – I was much too shy to do anything like that. And if I did somehow luck into having sex with her, I would have been the proverbial puppy always wanting her attention and ego-stroking.   This grocery-store woman was just the first in a series of random encounters; only one girl have I seen more than once because she seemed different but she wasn’t.  I use to consider sex to be the greatest gift a woman could give a man and I was grateful when I got it. Now, all I want is the sex and nothing else. Problem is that one time with a girl is enough. Not that the sex with any of them was bad – I just do not feel the need to see them again. The sex is exciting. The seeing them again is not. After quenching my carnal needs I have very little use for them. 

 

I think I have very little use for them because in some way they all remind me of my ex-wife. Excuse me, I mean ex-wives. And once that happens, the noodle goes soft. Beelzebub #1 left me for one of our colleagues. She did not believe in coincidences so when a love letter she wrote to me accidently got into this colleague’s hand (I left it on his desk by mistake) the end was in sight. As soon as he read my love’s passionate little letter, Mr. Colleague rushed to her side and he expressed his true feelings to her. Even though she knew she had written that letter for me, she dropped me believing that God had meant them to be together. And really I can’t argue with her because they have been together now for about 10 years but, I believed and do still believe, I deserved better than that. Beelzebub #2 left me for some guy she found on the internet who lived in a different country, and who, even to this day, she has yet to meet in person. I mean come on, who deserves that crap? So, who would want to be with someone who reminds you of the psychos that cheated on you? I guess I am kinda interested in these women until they remind me of the Beelzebubs, then it is all kinda blah. I mean I do have sex with them so there must be some kind of interest there, right?

 

Now that I think of it, before the cigars and the girls, I grew disinterested in my job. I am the Plant Manager at a bottling company which means I basically run the show. My job bores me and I am doing everything I can to get fired, of course not in such a way that I can not file for unemployment. That is not as easy as one might think. Basically, I have to perform as badly as possible without anybody noticing I am doing it on purpose. Incompetence is a hard goal to achieve.   Up until a few months ago I was pushing my managers and supervisors to hit their production numbers so I could achieve my hefty bonus. Then something happened and I just quit caring. I just sit in my office all day with the door shut, surfing the net and making semi-witty remarks on friends’ pages. I am hoping that this behavior will start the process of my termination. I have to be careful though to make sure I do some work so they can not refuse my unemployment claim.

 

My choice in occupations has always been a problem for me. The only real reason I took this job was to be away from Beelzebub #2. That and it paid a very well. I figured, at the time, why not, I needed a new beginning. Problem was and still is that I left my children behind. They are my true loves and I miss them a whole lot more than I care to admit. Yes, I do travel home once in awhile to see them but it is not nearly enough. Of course, Beelzebub #2 always has to be there to ruin everything as well. If it weren’t for the mental scarring it would do to my children, I would probably donk her off just for the sheer pleasure of not hearing her belittle me anymore.  “No one made you move.” “ You could’ve lived with your parents.” “Since you’re not around, my father is showing James how to play baseball.” “I really want to see how this relationship with Mike works out.” That last one was said in the midst of our final lovemaking session. Nice, huh? Anyway, it was probably not bright to move away from them but hopefully, I will be back near them soon – if I play my cards right.

 

Today my actions took me to places I never dreamed of before. I woke up this morning and decided not to go to work.  No real reason other than I did not want to be at work today.  I’ve never called off a day of work in my life. I called my admin and told her I was sick. She didn’t care; it made for one less thing for her to worry about.   Does anyone really care when the boss doesn’t show up for work? Nah, I didn’t think so. I really didn’t know what I was going to do with myself although I felt I had to do something. My first thought was to call up one of the random girls I had seen before; I could use a little pipe cleaning. Then I passed on the idea; too much trouble entertaining them afterwards. They would want to do something together and I would want them to leave. Besides, what was I going to with the rest of my day when those fifteen minutes were up? So, I sat around a few moments, surfing the net and drinking coffee before an idea hit me; a great idea, a crazy idea. I would rob a bank. I know that sounds nutty but I had just seen some television special the night before on how most of the bank robberies in California go unsolved. I figured I was smarter than the average dumbass criminal so that gave me a better than average chance of getting away with it. I thought it would be a tremendous thrill plus it would give me a few extra bucks for when I got the ax at work.

 

I went to my gun closest and picked out a couple of pistols, a shotgun and two rifles. I wasn’t planning on using them on anybody but I wanted be safe nonetheless. I made sure to pack all the appropriate ammo for all the firearms I was taking. I figured two rounds of each for the holdup and another five for the getaway for both the pistols and the rifles.  I took two boxes of shells for the shotgun and loaded it with as many as it could fit before I left. Also, I thought I would need a car other than my own so I took along a Slim-Jim and a set of picks. It kinda amazed me that I had all this stuff, like I had been preparing for this all along. I realized that I had accumulated most of this stuff during my stint with Beelzebub #2. I wondered if Beelzebub #1 would think that was a coincidence.

 

So, I set off from my condo to search for my perfect ride. I really didn’t know what I was looking for but I knew that I would know it when I saw it. I had thrown everything into a hockey bag that I now had slung over my shoulder not really giving it too much thought. I decided to take the bus to the other side of town. My thinking was that I needed to be as far away from my personal residence as possible. After an hour ride, I decided that I was far enough away. I immediately saw a Toyota SUV in the parking lot of the shopping mall where I got off the bus.  Beelzebub #2 loved the Toyota SUVs; I had even bought one for her. But we ended up turning it back in when I lost my job because we couldn’t afford it. She never forgave me for that.   For a moment I was going to take that shopping mall SUV but then I thought that the mall might have security cameras sweeping the lot. So, I strolled down to the neighborhood right behind it and saw another Toyota SUV sitting in a driveway. Well, I knew it could not be a coincidence and maybe Beelzebub #1 was on to something. It took me a few moments but I soon had the car up and running and headed for the main drag. I flashed on the thought that I had forgotten gloves so I was leaving prints everywhere. Then I blew it off thinking I would wipe it down before I ditched it.

 

I looked in the back seat and found a baseball hat. I thought it was perfect. I could hide myself a bit from the cameras. I wasn’t worried about security too much because I was gonna enter the bank with guns blazin’. My plan was to take out the cameras first so the police would have as little footage of me as possible. Then I would hit the teller drawers. I couldn’t go for the big money because of the dye packs. But, I thought screw it; I’ll make them fill up a bag themselves. They can put whatever they want in there. I’ll take a teller hostage and make her hold that bag and walk out in front of me. That way ‘boom’ she’ll get the dye pack. Ha! That’ll be funny! I also knew I had to be fast, probably had to be in and out in a couple of minutes max. Most robbers look for a bank with easy access to the main roads.  I decided to look for the exact opposite. I knew I was taking a chance but I figured that because they thought they were so off the radar to robbers their security measures might be a little more lax.

 

I found myself a little Credit Union down a couple of side streets.  I left the rifles in the car and only took the shotgun and the pistols into the bank.  The shotgun was for the cameras; the pistols for anyone who acted up. The rifles were going to be back up if I needed them later. 

 

Everything went according to plan. Well, almost. I entered the bank and immediately started shooting the cameras, taking out the closest ones first. Then my little problem happened. One of the bank flunkies decided to nut-up and make a run at me. This infuriated me. Why the hell would someone take their own life into their hands for the sake of a couple of bucks?! I mean I could’ve been some cracked-out junkie for all this dumbass knew. Instantly, I decided I needed to teach this dipshit a lesson and took aim at him. I shot him with one squeeze of my pistol. He let out a pitiful little yelp and tumbled on to the marble floor. I walked over to him to see the damage I had done. He looked up at me with terrified eyes. Luckily, I only hit him in the leg.  I was aiming for the crotch which would’ve probably produced a more serious injury and a manhunt for me. Of course everyone started screaming and crying the minute I shot him, I started to chuckle because I knew they had nothing to be so upset about. I wasn’t going to kill any of them unless they tried to something stupid like flunky just did.

 

Out of all the women in the bank there was one that was crying the hardest (isn’t there always in these situations?). Beelzebub #1 always cried at the drop of a hat. It got to be a bit ridiculous. Anytime anything went wrong whatsoever she would start the waterworks. It was up to me to not only comfort her but to fix whatever she was crying about as well because, God forbid, she should have to fix anything, anything!  I determined that the crybaby teller and flunky must’ve had a thing.  That is why he was made his knightly dash. He thought he was protecting his fair maiden. So, of course, she was the teller I picked to take the bank-loaded bag. Just as I thought, little Miss Crybaby got blasted with the dye as soon as we left the building. She had blue dye all over her hands, face, hair, sweater, skirt and shoes. She looked like she had just had been raped by every member of the Blue Man Group. I started laughing as soon as it happened. She looked at me a little funny which almost made me mad but then I blew it off.   I mean what was the point of getting mad at Miss Crybaby?  When we got a few steps further from her little explosion, I told her she could go. She took a couple of cautious steps before breaking into full sprint back into the bank.  I raced to my SUV which I had left running. There was no police insight as I left the bank parking lot which was a little disappointing because I was looking forward to a little high speed pursuit. Why? I don’t know because that would’ve meant that I probably would’ve been caught. I didn’t want to go to jail and there was no way I was going to do one of those suicide things.

 

I dumped the SUV in the same mall where I got off the bus, remembering to wipe it down. Me and Beelzebub #2 wiped that precious SUV of hers down a lot also. She was a bit of a germ-a-phobe so every time the kids had a little accident of any sort, I had to scrub the car with bleach wipes. Man I miss my kids. I knew the police might do some CSI thing and get a strand of hair. That was ok because I hadn’t been arrested before so I would not be in their systems. That thought made me wonder why I was bothering wiping down the car but I did it anyway.

 

Now, after my second bus ride, I am sitting at home counting up my money waiting for that knock at the door really hoping it won’t happen. I mean I don’t understand what made me do something stupid like rob a bank. What kinda idiot robs a bank? I guess this kinda idiot. I made off with $3,314. Not too bad I think. That will last me at least a month. Tomorrow I’ll go to my bank and deposit a third of it. The rest of it I’ll keep as spending money. I believe the banks talk to each other so I don’t want to deposit the whole amount, at least not at this time. God, I really hope I don’t get caught. Did anyone at the bank get a good look at me? I don’t think so. They were all too scared. What are my kids going to think of me? Will they even visit me in jail? Probably not. Beelzebub #2 wouldn’t let them near a jail. I wonder if it’s on the TV yet. Wouldn’t that be cool if I were on TV? I wonder if they will do one of those God-awful sketches.

 

I wonder what I will do tomorrow. Maybe I’ll go visit Beelzebub #2.

 

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