I'm hanging out with Mike Myers and (the late) Maurice Gibb, as one does. Maurice looks exactly like he did in this clip
; Mike looks pretty much like Wayne Campbell.
Somehow, between the three of us we decide to rob a bank, just for a lark - using a sword. (I do have this sword in real life. It was purchased for me from a hotel gift shop in Madrid, circa
Christmas 1974. It actually looks pretty impressive, provided you don't know much about swords.) The three of us go to the bank - it's a HUGE bank, taking up much of the first floor of this HUGE office building - it looks almost like an airport terminal in there. I realize that this caper of ours absolutely cannot work, and I'm pretty sure my famous accomplices know it as well - and yet it feels like we just can't back out now, we have to go through with this silly thing, or at least give it a try. Carrying my sword rather as one would a walking cane, I go up to one of the many tellers and say something along the lines of "this is a hold-up"; cool as a cucumber, the teller says "I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to speak with Mrs. ________ about that [presses button under the desk to alert the cops]
- just stand over there, and she'll be with you as soon as she's available."
Leaving my sword on the floor in front of the teller window for some unconscious reason, I go and stand "over there" with Maurice and Mike and we wait politely, knowing perfectly well that we are doomed. Looking out the windows we can't help but notice police and bank personnel stationing themselves at every building exit, with stern and determined visages and postures.
At the far end of the bank, I see an interior door leading to the rest of the first floor of the building. Inexplicably sensing some vague chance, I yell "RUN!!" and we do.
We run to the elevators, sure that the fuzz are already following us, throw ourselves into an available car and press "5" and "DOOR CLOSE". At the fifth floor we get out and cleverly run to the stairs and down to the second floor (figuring the cops will be busy looking for us on the fifth floor). So far, so good, but now what? The only exits out of the building are on the first floor, and the police are watching all of those...
We carefully sneak down the stairs to the first floor and try to scope out the situation. Suddenly we see my boss (and dear friend) Dave, carrying some bags and about to leave the building. Somehow Maurice and Mike know Dave too, and a light bulb goes on over our collective heads - we'll exit the building with
Dave, acting like everything's normal. It's so crazy it just might work! We approach Dave, greeting him, making small talk etc. etc.,
going out the door casually as you please. Halfway across the parking lot, the paranoia reasserts itself and I yell "RUN!!" again, and Maurice and I sprint off leaving a confused Dave in our wake and also losing Mike, who runs in a different direction.
Maurice and I run and run and run, into a residential neighborhood of nice middle class houses, and obviously there's no Plan B, no Plan Anything, we're just running aimlessly through this neighborhood. 'Long about this point I'm thinking that the SECOND stupidest thing I did today - after deciding to hold up a bank with a sword - was to run away. I never even brandished the sword!
I probably could've bullshitted the police easily enough - pointed out that the sword was just something from a hotel gift shop, the blade isn't sharp and the tip is covered with a plastic protector - I'd just been showing it to my friends here, and forgot that I was still carrying it when I entered the bank! I'm sure I could've persuaded them that the teller misheard me, and why on earth would two wealthy celebrities like Maurice Gibb and Mike Myers be having anything to do with a bank robbery anyway? and so on. But it's too late for that now - now I look guilty as hell - I am
guilty as hell! - and they have the weapon with my fingerprints all over it. They probably know by now who I am and where I live, and they're gonna be asking my 87-year-old dad a lot of questions and he's going to be bewildered and heartbroken... (Not to mention that I'm also pissed off about losing this sword that I've had for forty-four years!)
Right about then (Maurice and I are still running for our lives), my phone ding
s and I fish it out of my pocket. There's a text from Dave. "I still need to pick up my clothes from the cleaners" it reads - clearly, he expects this to matter to me somehow, and I try to puzzle it out as I run but I'm flummoxed. Maybe he's still in the parking lot waiting for us to come back so he can give us a ride?
Then I wake up. (Which is more than poor Maurice Gibb can say!)