I had just put my debit card into the ATM when I felt the end of a gun barrel against the back of my head.
“Don’t turn around,” a gravelly voice warned me. Breath that reeked of garlic wafted around my head and across my face. “How much money you got in your account?”
I began to sweat, and was about to answer the question when the display on the ATM flashed.
Need some help?
I looked quickly left, then right, then I nodded.
Tell him you have $5000.
“I’ve got $5000,” I said.
“Withdraw it all, and give it to me,” the robber said, “or I’ll blow your brains out.”
I looked at the ATM display.
Punch some buttons so he thinks you’re complying.
I punched a few buttons, and the metal flap on the cash slot clunked open. A stack of what appeared to be $100 bills sat just inside the opening.
Please take your cash.
I reached for the money.
Not you, stupid.
I pulled my hand back.
The robber saw the cash and shoved me out of the way. I tumbled to the pavement, and the thief reached into the opening for the money. No sooner had he touched the stack of bills than the cash slot door slammed shut on his fingers. The robber opened his mouth as if about to yell, then his eyes grew wide and his whole body began to quiver and shake. Flashes of bright blue arced between the fingers of his free hand. Smoke began to rise from his head, and the ends of his hair curled. His skin grew darker and began to blister as he skittered and bucked, dancing like a marionette on the end of strings manipulated by some demonic puppeteer. It was impossible to be sure from where I sat, but I swear I saw his eyes begin to bubble. His thick tongue protruded from his mouth, dripping white foam. The smell of burning flesh was everywhere. Then, mercifully, the cash drawer door sliced through the thief’s fingers and his lifeless body fell to the ground in a smoldering heap.
I stood up, and was about to turn and run when I noticed my debit card sticking out of the ATM.
Please take your card.
I hesitated, then stepped over the robber’s corpse and slowly reached toward the machine. I grabbed the card and yanked my hand back. I slipped the card back into my wallet, glancing at the ATM display.
Thank you for banking with us today.
___
© 2009 Robert C. Eccles
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Tags: Robert C. Eccles
February 15th, 2009 at 11:05 am
Good story, Bob! Oh, and if you don’t mind, please provide me with the name of this bank…I’d like to transfer my funds there ASAP.
February 15th, 2009 at 1:11 pm
I love this! Now if they weren’t so busy charging us with all kind of fees, they’d have actually thought of this already. Good job.
February 15th, 2009 at 10:12 pm
This is a terrific concept that is well executed. Plus the story was told with great economy of words, which to me is how flash fiction really should be written. I like the touch of magic realism in this piece. A machine that communicates on it’s own to save a bank’s client. This is the kind of story I wish I could have dreamed up. Keep up the good work.
February 20th, 2009 at 12:30 pm
Bob, what’s their maximum amount for withdrawal? LOL! very nice my friend. I will be visiting to here read more!
February 20th, 2009 at 2:13 pm
Short, sweet, and to the point. I wish this type of machine really existed!