Disclaimer: This is fan fiction, it is not meant to infringe. Irritate, yes…infringe, no.
It was a sunny, little bit hot kind of day, when the van with the duct-taped bumper pulled up outside.
It's ok, it was a dry heat.
Three men exited, two of them ran forward to open the doors, while the third strode smoothly in. He walked to the center of the room, producing a gun from beneath his long coat.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your full attention," he smiled pleasantly, as one smiles when holding the only gun,"we have a bit of business to transact here. Remain in your places, and we shall detain you for as short a time as possible."
He waved one of his men away from the door. "The alarm…" he nodded.
His assistant ran behind the counter, and set to work.
"Where is the person in charge?" Hans asked.
"That would be me , sir," said a man appearing at his side.
Hans smiled. "I require all your negotiable bonds."
"You have a safe?" Hans asked.
"We do, sir."
"You will get the bonds from the safe."
"That might be a problem, sir…"
Hans turned to him, smiling a little less than pleasantly.
"He doesn't like to use the word 'problem'…" the assistant called from behind the counter, "we use the word 'challenge'."
The man who used to be in charge, thought carefully. "We have a challenge , sir, " he said. Hans inclined his head a little, and spoke quietly. "It is not enough, I am short-staffed, and have to use temps…now, you are going to tell me, that you cannot open the safe?"
"I can do something with a drinking glass!" a voice piped from behind him.
Hans turned to see a middle-aged woman with a Hello Kitty purse waving at him hopefully. Her surveyed her, and decided he did not wish to know what she could do with a drinking glass. He smiled weakly, and turned back to the matter at hand.
"Ten minutes, sir," called the man guarding the door.
"What?" Hans said.
"We did time it out, sir," said his assistant behind the counter.
"Yes, I remember!" growled Hans. He waved the gun at the man before him. "The safe…"
"I can open it sir, but the prob… the challenge is, there are no bonds."
"There are no bonds?"
"This is a Burger King, sir."
Hans closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Stupid…assing… GPS.."
He exhaled deeply, recovering himself. "A Burger King? The king of burgers?"he breathed, waving the gun anew.
"We like to think so, sir," the manager smiled brightly.
"Try the Whopper!" a voice called.
Hans glanced sideways at the senior lady in the I'm With Stupid tee shirt. She waggled her brows. He turned slowly back to the manager. "So…"
"He's hot!" the senior lady whispered.
Hans blinked several times,, then continued. "So you…"
"Frenchie smartass," the senior lady's husband growled.
"Three minutes, sir," the man at the door called.
"I can't work this register!" yelled the assistant behind the counter.
Hans shook his head, and stared glumly at the manager. "You can't get good help…you just can't."
"I know, sir. I know," the manager nodded. "Let me make you something to go."
Hans waved him toward the kitchen, while staring off into space.
"Two minutes, sir," the man at the door called.
Hans recovered slightly, and addressed the patrons, as he headed for the door. "Ladies, and gentlemen…"
"Don't you want to take a hostage?" smiled the senior lady.
Hans raised his brows, and continued , as his assistant ran in back of him with bags of food. "I thank you for your kind attention…"
Someone pulled at his sleeve.
The man at the door whispered to him. "Sir, will you be falling out the window backwards?"
Hans looked out the window, then stared at him.
The man nodded, holding up his hands. "Yes sir, I know we're on the ground floor…"
Hans jabbed his finger at the exit. His associates ran out the door toward the van, as he adopted a dramatic stance before the doors, and raised his gun toward the ceiling.
"Zippidy doo dah, dummkopf !"
He made a graceful bow, and exited to a small, but enthusiastic round of applause.
After the van pulled away, the counter clerk ran to the manager. "Thank goodness, that's over… that's the last we'll see of him."
"Don't count on it," her boss smiled. "I put a job application in the bag. That guy has 'management' written all over him."