Flash Fiction – The Bank Job

This week’s piece was 200 words around the following prompt:

My Worst Job Ever.

Here is what I came up with . . .

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The Bank Job

Big Ray’s face darkened, cheek muscles twitching with barely contained rage as he prowled the small cell the two men now occupied. Len tried once more to placate his boss.

“I’m still learning, Ray. Where was my training plan? And as an employer, it’s your duty to provide the right equipment for me to do the job.”

“We’re bank robbers! You’re not at Waitrose now!”

“You’re telling me! I got safety shoes and a hair net when I worked on the fish counter!”

Ray simply glared at Len, forcing him to continue.

“I was in a rush. You said you wanted face masks – these Prickly Pear Peel-offs were on special offer at Body Shop – how could I resist?!” He picked off the last flecks of dried creme from his chin.

Ray took a step forward. “And what’s your excuse for the getaway?”

“I distinctly heard you say ‘high-powered vehicle!'”

“Yeah! Something like a Beamer or Vectra – not a bleedin’ tractor!” He grabbed Len by the lapels and rammed him against the wall. “I could be going away for a long time for this!”

Len squirmed before asking,”Would now be a good time to discuss my severance package?”

200 words

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