There is only one bank. Earl and I rob it. We wear costumes. Earl is a farmer and I'm amoeba so I can divide if necessary. Earl borrows his uncle's thirty-aught-six. "Money, or hole?" Earl asks the teller while I kick the security guard in the face. I'm very old, the security guard thinks as he slides to the floor. We didn't have the canvas sacks with dollar signs so we place the cash stacks in a briefcase. There is music as we run to our bicycles. Earl didn't think we could get away on tricycles, so we stashed the mountain bikes in the alley. After we ride down the mountain trail we ditch the bikes in a ravine and then repel into another ravine to a mid-river island where we hide the cash in an old tree-fort with the initials 'IRS' carved into the front ladder. Earl defaces the 'IRS.' He puts our initials, he draws a heart. He destroys the heart. He draws a pod of octopi. This takes five thousand years. Meanwhile my Mom pilots the search helicopter through the ravines. The mountain bikes are found but not the tree fort. At night, we sneak into our bedrooms. There are newspaper articles about infanticide. Both Earl and I think it's a slow search for our baby which is as of yet un-conceived. Still, many banks must be robbed to make safe our future toddler who will toddle carefully along the jagged edges of a dark ravine.

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