It was 80 degrees in the shade. A man wearing a heavy army jacket, a pullover wool cap, and dark sunglasses walked into the First American Bank at the corner of Maple and Main streets in downtown Short Beach.
The man walked up to the teller and held up a hand grenade for all to see. He said, “Give me all your money, all the money in this bank, right now!”
Everyone in the lobby screamed and started running, even the security guard. Nervously, the young female teller handed the man three big bags loaded with cash. He walked out the door. A second later, one of the money bags exploded, covering him with red dye. He yelled in pain and surprise, and started pacing around in circles because he couldn’t see where he was going.
He couldn’t see, but he could hear. He heard the police siren get closer. Then he heard the police tell him to get down on his stomach on the sidewalk and put his hands behind his back. They handcuffed him and placed him in the back of the police car.
Seeing the hand grenade on the sidewalk, the police told everyone to get back. They sealed off the whole block and called the bomb squad. The bomb squad came and examined the hand grenade. Then they laughed. They told the police it was a fake. The hand grenade was actually a harmless dummy, something a 12-year-old might play with.
The police chuckled. The bank employees returned to work. The bank customers returned to their lines. The bank robber, hopefully, would never return.