The Robbery

This auld wuman was in the Airdrie Savings bank waiting tae take money oot fir prawns or tea or something auld wumen like. Minding her ain business.

“I’ve got a hamster in ma pocket,” this guy whispered in her ear in the queue.

Before she went tae belt him across his manky Moodiesburn-looking chops, he pulled open his pocket and this wee hamster poked his head oot.

“We’re going tae rob this place,” the hamster said. “You in?”

She swung her head around. Both the guy and the hamster wir looking cool – almost as cool as Davie Dempster, the janitor wae that magic boaby that got two ae her pals up the duff in primary school by jist looking at them.

“Dunno. What’s the plan?”

The hamster held oot this tiny wee hamster sized gun.

“This is the fucking plan, hen. This is the fucking plan.”

The auld wuman’s eyes sparkled. She winked and mouthed, “Am in.”

So then the guy and the hamster and the auld wuman robbed the bank fir every penny it had. Every penny. The man and hamster sped aff never tae be seen again, but the auld wuman didnae get too far pushing her cut on her wee old wuman trolley hingy before being gunned doon by the Muirhead polis.

But it was worth it.

The polisman that pumped her full ae bullets reported that her last words were, “Davie, ma sweet prince, am minted noo and am coming fir yer magic boaby.”

Awe.

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