Chapter 7

The next pen the old man had to return may have been as unique but certainly not as beautiful as the trumpet shell pen. It was cold and heavy and could best be described as a lead pipe that writes. He had lifted it from The World Bank. FIY–on his record there were no other bank heists.

He got in the rather long line behind a fidgety young fellow who wore dark sunglasses, ragged clothing, and held a brown lunch sack.  It was a miserably long wait sandwiched between the strange guy and a little girl crying in her mother's arms with snot running down her chin. The noise was so annoying that the old man asked rhetorically,"What in the world is wrong with that child?" under his breathe. 

But the woman heard him and said,"Look, I didn't ask to be a mom of a down's syndrome child!" Then she proceeded to complain to the old man about how she had plans of a glorious career as an actress until Brad came along and got her pregnant with Sarah,"So welcome to my world, old man!"

The old man regretted his comment, preferring the crying baby to the guilt he felt for what he had said and thought he might crawl away with his tail between his legs, when finally, the man in front of him had his turn at the teller, and it became apparent why he was so fidgety, for he pulled a gun from his jacket and demanded the woman at the teller fill his bag with money.


"Actually, you can put your gunny sack away,"said the teller calmly,"We keep a bag filled and ready to go for just such an occasion." And as she said it, she pulled out a bag, presumably filled with cash and pushed it over to the thief and said,"Next please."


"Not so fast,"said the thug,"you might think I was born yesterday, but I know exactly what is in that bag." 

The woman opened it, pulled out a stack of bills, and ran her nail across it,"There's twenty thousand in here–in twenties, much more than you could fit in that nap sack of yours."

The man knocked the bag across the table,"And when I get to the bottom of it, a bomb of red dye will explode on me,"he said waving the gun closer," You think I'm stupid? YOU THINK I'M STUPID!?"

As the intensity of the already intense confrontation rose, the little down syndrome girl began crying louder which angered the robber who turned, and seeing the little girl said," YOU WANT TO SEE STUPID?" Then he pointed the gun at the little girl and shouted,"YOU WANNA SEE STUPID?!" 

At that same moment the old man, slightly behind the thief,  pulled out the pen he was to return and without thinking, jabbed it like a gun barrel into the criminal's side.


"I'll tell you what's stupid,"the old man whispered in the theif's ear with a Clint Eastwood voice,"to turn your back on an impatient fan of Dirty Harry movies packin' cold steel–that's stupid. Now drop it!"

The thief obeyed and was escorted out of the bank where the police were waiting.


And after the man returned the pen the woman with crying baby said,"Thank you for saving the world."


"Oh, I didn't save the world,"said the old man.


The woman held her down's syndrome child close and said, wiping a tear away,"Well, Lord knows you saved mine, today." 

"Then send your thanks to the Savior of the World," said the old man to which the woman smiled. Then Sarah whispered something to her mom.

"Sarah would like to draw you a picture," said the woman,"if we may we have your address to send it to you. Do you have another pen, by chance?"


"Yes. But not by chance." And so the old man gave his address and went on his way.