At The Bank
by Emmy Laybourne
Shelly: Oh my goodness, Gretchen, is that you?
Gretchen: All right. Wasn’t expecting this—
Shelly: Hooray! So great to see you, honey. I’ve missed you!
Gretchen: Wow. Okay. Look, please empty your drawer into this duffel bag.
Shelly: Damn straight I will. I been worried sick about you ever since Mr. Grayson fired you. He’s a son of a bitch.
Gretchen: Amen to that. Hurry up with the twenties.
Shelly: I love it. Didn’t I tell you needed a little change up? I love this career for you. Did you dye your hair, like, for a disguise.
Gretchen: Affirmative. Can you please hurry up?
Shelly: Yee-haw! Little Gretchen Witznowski, bein’ blonde and robbin’ a bank!
Gretchen: Okay. Okay. Hand over the bag.
Shelly: Sounds good, honey. I didn’t put in any ink pods or nothin’.
Gretchen: Excellent. Don’t call the cops.
Shelly: Sounds good!
Gretchen: Cool! Lay on the ground and count to 1000.
Shelly: All-righty! Come back soon!