The Money's in the Bank

By MARC MULLIGAN | Published: September 20, 2011

Wearing old fashioned garb and smelling faintly of cauliflower, he waited impatiently in the driver seat of the van. Sweat beads rolled down his temples, he reached down to scratch his balls. Why the hell did he always have to do the driving? He knew how to intimidate. He knew how to shoot a gun. The part that he disliked the most about driving was the tension. He couldn't get out and stretch his legs or run a few lengths of the street cus if the boys came out of that bank and he wasn't ready to drive, he'd be in serious trouble. And this ‘no names’ business was confusing too. At the very least could they pick cool colour names like Mr. Green in that famous heist movie?

Sweat rolled down his skin all over. The only one in the gang who did not have to wear a balaclava, he was feeling the tension. That fucking tension.

The van side door shunted open. The Driver twisted in his seat and started the engine. A woman about 60 years of age was pushed in the van door. The woman wore a wide billowing dress that belonged in the 1950s. Three men climbed in after her. The sliding door was slammed behind them. One of the men was very tall and gangly, another was short and chubby. The third man was a giant, standing at 6"11.

"Fucking go, ya cunt!" said one of the men in the back.

The van lurched forward and then sped away.

The woman looked upset, no, the Driver realised she looked angry.

The Driver glanced into the back of the van. Having returned his gaze to the road, he spoke.

"Why are you guys still wearing your balaclavas?"

"Cus she's here," said the chubby one, pointing at the woman.

There was a brief pause.

"Why is she here?" said the Driver.

"Ask Fucko over there," said Chubby.

"Who, may I ask is 'Fucko'?" said the Driver.

"Him, the skinny bastard!" Chubby pointed at the tall and gangly thief who somehow managed to appear embarrassed even with his balaclava still on. Fucko mumbled something inaudible to the Driver.

"What was that?"

"I said, she's my ma."

"Your 'ma'?"

"Yeh, my ma."

The Driver could not believe what he was hearing.

"That lady is your mother?"


The woman silently nodded her agreement to Fucko's statement.

The van screeched to a halt. The Driver turned around in his seat and shouted.

"Why is she in the van!? Plus, Fucko, she knows what you look like already so why don't you take off your fucking balaclava!?"

"Please stop calling him that," said Fucko's mother. "His name is..."

"Shut up! We don't want to know his name!" said Chubby.

"She's here because she recognised me," said Fucko.

"Through your balaclava?" asked the Driver.

Fucko once again seemed to glow bright red through his balaclava. The Giant spoke:

"He took it off."

The Driver stared at him.

"Why would he take it off?"

"I couldn't see," said Fucko.

"Take off the goddamn balaclava!" said the Driver.

Fucko pulled his balaclava off. The Driver leaned in to the back of the van towards him. Fucko raised his hands in defence.

"It's her fault!" he said, pointing at his mother.

"You're the moron who took his balaclava off! How is it her fault?!"

Fucko mumbled inaudibly once again.

"What was that? I can't hear ya, ya fucking moron!"

"I said 'She done the knitting, my eye holes weren't right'."

The Driver slammed his fist down on the dashboard.

"Fantastic, just brilliant! She's knows you. She's seen me too as normally I would have no need for a balaclava, therefore I am not wearing one. What do we do now?" the Driver addressed Chubby and the Giant.

"Please don't hurt my ma," said Fucko. The other 3 ignored him.

"Well, we can't kill her, she's Fucko's ma," said Chubby.

"I said, please stop calling him that," said Fucko's mother. "It's upsetting for me to hear him being called bad names. His real name is..."

They had been ignoring her too but the Giant shouted over her words.

"We could bribe her."

"Good idea, where's the money?" said the Driver.

The Giant turned to look at Chubby, who turned to look at Fucko. Fucko looked as if he was about to cry.

"I said, 'where's the money'!?"

"The money's in the bank," said Fucko.

"In the bank... In the bank... the money's in the bank!? Why is the money in the bank? Why isn't the money here in the van?" said the Driver.

"I panicked when I saw Ma, I dropped the bags."

Police sirens could be heard in the distance.

"The police are on to us and we have no money but what we do have is Fucko’s ma?" said the exasperated Driver mainly to himself.

He turned back to the steering wheel, revved the engine and accelerated. The others fell about in the back of the van. 10 minutes later, when the police sirens had faded away, the van pulled over at the side of the road. The Giant and Chubby, under the Driver's instructions, threw Fucko and his mother out the door onto the pavement. They slammed the door shut. The van drove away.

Once the van was out of sight, Fucko's mother reached into her top and pulled out 2 bulging money bags. Notes spilled out of them. She handed one of them to her son.

"That was easier than I thought it was going to be," she said with a grin. “The money’s in the bank kiddo, the money’s in the bank.”

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