Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Waiting for the Bank To Open

I'm sitting in my car in the bank parking lot waiting for the bank to open. There's a woman in a gray Toyota waiting a few parking spaces over. She has the passenger door open to let in the breeze. She has three small kids with her. They fidget.

It is overcast and breezy.

Now a bulldog looking woman wearing a golf visor driving a new cream colored Cadillac pulls in. She leans on her elbow, which she rests on the door unrolled window.

Here is a red van.

They’ve recently built a new Meijer supermarket next to the old one, which has since been torn down. A large backhoe is parked about half a block away behind the chain link fence of the "deconstruction site."

The woman in the nurse's uniform gets out of the red van at the far end of the parking lot. She is pale, has gangly Ichabod Crane features. She has dark curly hair in an awful haircut that makes it look like she's wearing an old-style football helmet. Not content to wait in her vehicle, she stands by the door. She will be first! She is the scout! She will be the signal for the rest of us.

Let her stand out in the sun. We'll sit back and listen to the radio in our cars until the doors open.

She is joined by a gray-haired man in a beige shirt that has blue flowers stitched along the bottom seam of the shirt. He wears green shorts and probably sandals, but I can't see his feet because of the short bushes that surround the bank.

The bank is brick, with four Romanesque classic columns.

Now SUVs and pickups arrive. The woman with the kids is out of her car. The doors are open! I have to go!

I'm standing in line inside the bank.

The lady with the kids had a "tramp stamp" on her back, right above the waistband of her Capri pants. It is a pointy figure drawn with thin red lines, two elongated diamonds point out. She has three sons, between ten and six. The youngest one says "Alert! Alert!" before the oldest puts him in a full nelson, then picks him up and pretends to do a back-breaker over his knee, but he is very careful not to hurt his little brother.

"Let go of me, poop!"

"You're a poop."

A fat guy in a cowboy hat stands too close behind me in line.

The guy in the beige shirt, it turns out, is wearing sneakers.

Everyone is talking about last week's storm that closed the bank branch on the 3rd of July.

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I am the author of 8 books: Android Down, Firewood for Cannibals, Brain Giblets, The Cubicles of Madness, Booze and News, Get Your Zen On, Zen Happens, and most recently, Robot Stories. I live and write in Michigan. My website is at danmanning.com

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