thaiff carson ---"frontier justice".

a slow , dry wind pushed small breaths of dust across the browning prairie . what were now , dwindling patches of tenacious green , everywhere seemed forced into gradual retreat from the sun's relentless pursuit . it was very hot that day. nothing unusual for this season as the sun , an orange-white orb in the sky , showered down its disdain upon all beneath it , continuing to mercilessly bake the land. no rain for over a month in silvercreek , colorado-- population counted ,just four years earlier --during the mining boom , at 321 .

the young drifter peered into the "olympus" saloon scanning the place before making his entrance .his sharp eyes quickly made note of the faces and features of each person while drinking in the crucial details of the room .

as he briefly stood at the entrance , glancing at the scene inside ,the outside world once again for him completely faded away , totally absorbing all his attention into what was beginning to unfold before him .

he swallowed his fear and his rage as the natural actor in him now instantly donned its deceptively jovial mask in order to carry out the role that chance had driven him to play .

adjusting to the reduced light from the dirty windows of the drab building ,as always , tirelessly paying the closest of attention to details , he quickly focussed upon the stocky ,dingy shirted man behind the bar quietly pouring a shot of brown whiskey past his dark , bushy moustasche .


behind the bartender , an old portrait created by one member of numerous obscure legions of never-to-be-known painters , hung on the wall .

from inside the decaying painting , forever captured in the moment , shamelessly gazed a naked and very well fed woman.

a fan of feathers in one hand attempted to cover nothing as she posed reclining seductively upon a louis 16th styled cheap imitation couch .

a halo of unattended grime gathered around the edges of the picture's frame .


a solitary old man , in worn derby hat , frayed shirt ,and run over shoes leaned at the bar . in patched , checkered britches on spindly legs he slouched over an almost empty whiskey glass . his pot belly quietly rising and falling as if lingering near sleep.

in the far corner , a light coating of dust mixed with years of ash and old tobacco burns rested upon the scratched and battered wood of the unoccupied piano bench .

the piano's yellowed , chipped and broken keys had paused silently for over a year since that early spring when 'diamond' jack nulty , the last person left in town who knew how to play it -- fancy clothes smeared from mud and horse manure --was found laying dead and penniless-- face down in a puddle on main street after three days straight of whiskey , laudnum and whoring .

the fumes from years of trashy three-for-a-nickel cigars and glowing tobacco pipes held in the stained teeth of mouths too numerous to count imposed their presence upon the atmosphere . mixed in also , was the everpresent aroma of stagnant perspiration unsuccessfully masked by garishly sented "french" toilet water which seemed to coat the dismal ceiling and still hung in a thin cloud dryly in the air .


at a table in the corner opposite the empty piano sat an unshaven gambler in scuffed shoes , wrinkled light-brown trousers and paisley vest . the sleeves of a white shirt ,as dingy as that of the bartender, rolled up to the elbows . he fiddled with a silver dollar absentmindedly, rotating it along the back of his hand from finger to finger .

across from the gambler sat a drab-looking saloon girl with corpulent unpainted face .with no customers in view her attention seemed captured within the hand of solitaire that she was periodically cheating at .

at the next table sat what made the young drifter immediately step forward into the saloon .


he was a middle aged man in his 40s --old boots with dusty spurs , denim pants , light-blue muslin ,button-up , collar-less "grandpa henley" shirt . on his head rested a wide brimmed tan hat discolored by sweat . his beard --just beginning to grey .

from the closed breast pocket of the man's shirt, the glint from the hanging slender post of a fancy gold watch chain met the drifter's eyes and had confirmed his suspicions .


"how do" , said the young man to the startled bartender as he quietly walked in , turning also to tip slightly his hat towards the lady .

"howdy" replied the bartender routinely eyeing the kid from floor to ceiling .

the bartender , the saloon girl , and the gambler --all from habit , quickly noted and were clearly unimpressed by the , dirty boots , high waisted , mud-brown , v-backed , "duckin" trousers with canvas suspenders ,that were walking up to the bar.

the crumpled , over-sized , ranch hand's "frontier" drawstring shirt --pleated , coarse and loosely billowing around his too narrow ribcage , did little to reverse their estimate.

the old dog-earred hat atop the unkempt thicket of hair-- confirmed to them that there was no big-spender before them .

"what'll it be , young feller ?" the bartender asked , trying not to sound too disappointed .

"gimme a double whiskey" , the kid replied plunking a heavy coin on the bar . the sound of the money seemed to stir the derby hat old man from his slouch as he almost straightened and then turned to get a better look at the stranger .


from his table , the watch chain man shooed away one of the room's buzzing flies , sipped his beer and went on chewing at another slice of the saloon's tough, complimentary salted meats .

he was also carefully eyeing the kid ,and making note ,not so much of his clothing , atfirst , but instead , silently taking notice of the shortbarreled colt the kid wore --with less than a five inch barrel , a favorite of gunmen for its quick drawing abilities.

he also noticed the well crafted holster that it was carried in. the leg ties--leather strings that held the holster in place for quick weapon access were tied down. the hammer loop on the holster --the leather thong that helped keep the pistol in place and also helped prevent its accidental discharge --was off .

the older man felt , in the pit of his gut , at first , strangely uneasy about the kid , but looked again at the boy's ill-fitting clothes and tried to dismiss the discomfort he felt by wondering to himself how many wheel barrows of manure did "this hayseed" have to shovel in order to earn enough cash to pay for the expensive hardware and fancy holster that he was wearing ?

"terri " , continued

Andy and the kids acted like they were on eggshells all that evening . Tiptoeing around and whispering so as not to disturb you .

You appreciate things like that , but inside , you felt that it was too late. The damage was done. You were already "disturbed". Disturbed as in “all the king’s horses…all the king‘s men ” nobody could glue old terri back together again… but you don’t tell anyone that . Not the police . Not the psychologist . Not bob and certainly not andy or your kids. They need to hope that things will return to the way they were . Who was I to tell them that it just wasn’t going to ever happen?


The police arrived the next day to review my original statement . They questioned me on little things , the same points they had asked me about before.

Andy seemed like he was walking on egg shells around them too. They even brought the psychologist with them , but no fbi this day .

The whole time that you’re sitting there listening to their questions and answering them you wonder how many times they’ve done this before . How many scared victims have they questioned ?

And then you happen to catch one of them looking at you , and at first you feel like maybe they don’t believe you , like they’re going through this routine procedure while secretly projecting doubt about you and your story ,your innocence-- when suddenly it hits you.

It’s not you , but it’s just the nature of the job to doubt . They don’t just doubt you --they walk into every situation carrying doubt with them . Wearing it like those drab suits .

On the job --maybe off the job too . They probably had seen and heard enough to doubt human nature itself because they know that at the core we’re all just animals in the house --sitting in the living room waiting for a chance to seep , or leak , or burst out .

That’s how they must see it --and that’s how at first it occurs to you. But then when you make eye contact and looked deeper into their faces and see the intense sadness there , you see words from a larger handwriting at work and you realize that they equally doubt themselves too.

What you see is that they doubt and they fear and they grab at this job desperately hoping for some certainty that’s not really ever there .

How much of what we put absolute faith into is completely imagined . The product of our own minds whistling comforting tunes to get us past the broken bottles and rattling wooden crates in the scary dark alley we must pass on the way home.

But it was more than doubt . Deeper than fear was resignation . Defeat . It was unmistakable --they smelled of it .

Every gesture , every nuance , every glance , every word , every blink of their eye dripped with resignation .

That somewhere , someway , life had grabbed them up by the scruff of the neck and rubbed their nose in it and beat their little tail to the point where you could look in their eyes and see a whipped pup who you knew would never even dream of shitting on the carpet-- ever again .

It was the total resignation that greets you in the eyes of people early Monday morning 6am when they’re too tired to pretend that they like what they do and love where they’re going .

The desperate look when you honestly know you don’t like the way your life is headed , but have no idea of what to do about it --and if you did know --lack the determination needed to successfully do anything.

It’s like ---remembering when you went to the zoo . Maybe you went as a kid , or maybe you went with your own kids . But besides all the disgusting smells that confront you there , one thing you notice that you never forget is looking into the eyes of a predator --maybe a tiger , or a leopard .

The cat is up on a perch sleeping ,or sitting with its eyes closed --trying to block out the view of all the losers in front of him and then --for no reason --that leopard just shoots a look straight through you , or looks at your own child with that intense glare-- like it hadn’t eaten for days and just saw dinner .

From that look --in an instance you can tell what it really is and its intent .

the leopard is a wild animal in a cage . the losers standing outside the cage are tame enough to be let out.

something primal is gone --no leopard cage for them will ever really be needed .

And from just that look you know that even though it is calmly sitting there on its perch surrounded by humans , that this is no pet-- and never could be .

this is still a live predator . A dangerous animal. Not a pup smacked over the head until trained to go on the paper.

Not an eager-to-please tamed mutt licking your hand with all the fight beaten out of it.

The little bank manager , bob , andy , the police and their psychologist , the fbi too --even with all their guns--they could not hide it .

they all had that same whipped look. You clearly saw it .

That’s when you knew that you had changed , because until yesterday you never noticed it before --because it was so prevalent --so commonplace all around you .

Something had turned them into pets --all of them and until yesterday you were one of them too--part of the crowd . one of the team . membership in good standing .

Hell-- up until yesterday , you were trying your best to lick enough hands to upgrade to gold or platinum membership status . But not anymore.

Part of me felt so guilty about the way I was thinking , but at the same time , another part of you just feels so trapped so stifled like the way you would feel if there were no air at all in the room --only the room with 'no air' -- is the life you’ve been building the past 16 years .

I knew I wanted out of the cage. wanted my freedom . But what could I do?

You just can’t announce to your husband and kids that you no longer want to be a family with them anymore. That you were leaving because something has happened yesterday that makes you realize that you’re not happy , that you kept yourself busy all these years chasing this and that goal --chasing your tail -- running the kids to school and picking them up from gymnastics , or math wiz--always busy --always in a hurry because it diverts your attention away from the fact that something’s missing.

the bigger house 'overlooking the golf course' that you never really wanted , was only a nicer diversion to keep you from focusing on the deep sense of betrayal you felt inside .

you want to scream ’What the hell has happened to me ? ’ it wasn’t supposed to be this way --not this deadness inside --like the episode of life you regularly tuned in to , was bribing you --keeping you entertained with nicer and nicer commercials for more expensive things to keep you from noticing that it had nothing else to offer except captivity in nicer and nicer cages .

Don’t get me wrong , I love my kids and always will. I could never , no matter what happened to me , ever look at them like some bitch-mother dog giving last season’s puppies the cold shoulder because her hormones cause her not to recognize them anymore , but I just felt overwhelmed with an urgency that left me not knowing how long I could hold on at being supermom .

I had given and given to everyone else --a loyal cheerleader for everybody else’s team . I wanted to get in the game and play for myself . I wanted something for me before it was too late and I was so old that I couldn’t enjoy it .

I felt ready to explode and even as the days passed and something like normalcy returned to our life and you could hear andy’s other cell phone hidden down in the basement, starting to ring again , underneath the surface the realization was still there and wouldn’t leave you alone-- like somebody on the other side of the mirror staring at you with nothing but scorn, and refusing to go away.

One night , after the house is quiet --the kids are in their rooms asleep and your loving spouse has rolled off of you exhausted --you lay there in the aftermath --in the wet spot --in bed in a quiet house with nothing but the beat of your own heart and the sound of breathing in your ear and you ache inside so bad you can‘t sleep .

You think of all the things you had to do today and you think of how you’ll have to do most of them all over again tomorrow --when you really didn’t want to do any of them today .

You are one day older , one day closer to your grave, and you think about how one more day is gone from you that you will never get back .

you look at the ceiling with tears in your eyes and your insides ache . And you know-- in your bones-- you know that something’s got to give , or you’ll just dry up inside and die. That’s when I decided . That’s when I made up my mind that I simply had to do something for me.

"terri's loves" cont.

it's like when i was about six , or seven--i'll never forget-- one day in the summer i was out playing , riding my bike and had gone farther from home by myself than i ever had before . my mom and dad had always warned me to stay nearby , but when you're a kid you always manage to lose things or forget things that later you know you shouldn't.

as i went along on the bike that day even the pattern of houses had changed as the homes were larger , the driveways deeper and yards grew larger more spacious.

the strangest thing to me was that there were no kids to be seen playing out in the streets like in our neighborhood where excepting for dinner time , you always saw kids.

some of the houses had these tall , black iron gates in front of them like tall iron spears connected horizontally together--some yards had big white , or tan brick walls around them .

i stopped at one of them that just grabbed your eye and noticed that it looked different because it had these raised bricks on the front as probably as some kind of decorative patterns.

i said to myself those raised bricks looked like just the right size and were close enough together for you to stand on.

I saw them as steps on the way up. it was like your mind could connect the dots and see a pattern and then the world just narrowed and all you cared about was directly in front of you . and the importance of everything else sort of diminished and receded to background for a while , and suddenly , you knew just
from looking at it and picturing it in your head that the connections could be made --the puzzle could be solved and it all made perfect sense--you knew you could see a logical bridge and the wall could be climbed --from point a-- to point b-- to point c -- you could see that all of this made sense in your head--“it makes sense “--you say to yourself.

even when you're all grown up , even now you can still see things like this in other places --in other things and how the plan all fits together --how it all seems to call to you and invite you in for the ride because to your eyes --it all so clearly just makes sense --and so you get that thrill of the challenge rising up inside--like the promise of adventure and you know that no matter what --you're going to go for it ---and maybe know that maybe no one but you is really going to care that you did , but so what? --you did it anyway. it's your little adventure . your little victory . just for you .something you did just for your own personal satisfaction.


the next thing you know , you're climbing on the raised bricks using them like handholds and little steps for your feet. before you knew it --surprising yourself , you had climbed over the wall and jumped down to the other side , and now you were in .

no sooner than your feet had hit the ground you hear them running up from out of nowhere --or perhaps you were thinking with such intensity that you just didn't notice them --dogs .

guard dogs and they're charging towards you and you have no idea what to do . you know that if you don't get away from those big canine teeth that somehow it's going to be the end of little you.

you are so afraid you shake and maybe even start to wet your pants a little , but there's no time to even think --just a split second to react --and that's when it happens-- something snaps --you actually feel it almost like a popping in the ears and the face and temples .

you can actually see yourself helpless , and standing there like part of your awareness jumps outside of you and leads you by the hand , or sits up on your shoulder and grabs you by the ear and you're sort of watching it all unfold while you're secure like a witness in a safe place and you're not your body anymore --you're just along for the ride as the experience happens to your body almost like being awake in a dream , but not quite sure that you're dreaming . but you know you’re not yourself--you're someone watching you like in a movie theater seeing a movie of your life and you're the audience cheering on the actor playing you.

and you don't know quite how you did it but suddenly you're back up looking down at those dark round circle eyes , looking at all those white snapping teeth and listening to those snarling foaming mouths from up on top that wall --your body is shaking and you're sweating bullets . you can feel your underwear are wet --your throat is dry and you can't cry , your mouth can't utter a sound because you aren't in ‘there’ any more --you’re somewhere outside of THAT you.

you're in the movie theater in the multiplex watching somebody that looks like you playing you in the movie about you. the movie that's playing in the theater you now occupy and watch on the screen from 10 rows back.

i rode my bike home that day after the adventure with the dogs , burst into the kitchen and told my mom that "those damn mutts almost got me " . later she told me i cursed in almost every sentence i spoke for the rest of that day .

my parents were flabbergasted--i had never dared to use any foul language in front of them before --or since . my mom probably sensed that something was wrong when she saw that i had wet my clothing . she gave me a bath then wrapped me in a big towel and held me on her lap in her arms and just rocked me for a long long time until i went to sleep . i slept all that afternoon and evening and woke up early the next morning .

that's how it was in the bank that day.

"it's the bank's money , it's not your money--you're not losing anything --your money's insured " the dark ski mask kept saying --later while i'm driving the car and thinking that as much work as i had to do-- maybe some of the money SHOULD be mine .I’m thinking , “hey screw you dillinger , i did at least as much work as that sad-assed partner of yours."

i told bob on the phone that i was tired and going home --i didn't care about the job--my shot at manager --the office politics --or even that bitch janice showing me up again and getting the power point presentation over me . none of that held vital importance anymore.

i went home , turned the key , walked inside and dropped everything --shoes , purse ,clothes , jewelry --everything at the door. climbed the stairs , climbed into the tub and soaked for hours in the hottest water i could stand--but even that wasn't enough. it couldn't shock me back into the old reality. i don't think anything --nothing that i could think of anyway , could jolt me back into the old way that i had felt when i had left the house that morning . the old terri was gone--retired --"out of office"--no longer in power--coup d'etated -- held prisoner in the old presidential palace-- and we both knew it .

"terri's loves" continued

afterwards i was numb . the police and later the fbi and their endless questions. them asking you to repeat your statement again and again . their snide suspicions and innuendos .

"did they touch you ?
do you want to speak to a female officer ?
did you think of calling for help as you were coming out of the bank ?
do you know this woman in the picture ?
did you know she was a teller who quit the day before the robbery?
have you ever seen the woman in this other picture before?
did you know she was the teller who called in sick at the last minute that morning ?
why did you choose that bank ?
what time did you arrive there ?
have you ever been in that bank before?
how long were you in there before the robbery started ?
why weren't you at work?
does your boss always let you run personal errands when you're supposed to be working?
did they ask you to drive the getaway vehicle or did they tell you ?
why didn't you immediately yell for help after they left ?
why did you wait twenty minutes before calling for help ?
why don't you want us to notify your husband ? don't you want to see him?
usually that's the first person a woman wants to see --does that seem unusual to you?
mrs geshay are you listening ?
ma'm are you having trouble with your hearing ? are you alright ?
you seem kinda out of it--were you on any medications this morning ?
Would you like a doctor ma’m?"

they went on and on --as if trying to trap you or catch you in some lie . you wanted to just scream and tell those idiots that while they were bothering an innocent victim with all these questions --those two men were getting away--most likely planning their next 'heist' already .

i didn't care anymore . enough was enough .

i called bob and told him what had happened about the robbery and all --he was stunned --he said, "i thought you had gotten back to the office already?

...terri , wasn't that you i was talking to about handling that presentation for me?
...you know , the power point thing for next monday's staff meeting ?
--oh no wait --that must have been janice i mentioned that to ."

i could scream --but i didn't really feel like bothering to anymore.

bob --janice --the job --the thing with andy cheating--i didn't care anymore. i had looked death in the eyes that morning and nothing in my life was as important as i had thought.

you know the job-- the competing with janice-- the house --andy --the kids --none of it was the same to me after that--it was like you had been asleep all your life and walking around in a dream. then something jolts you awake and everything seems different to you --it's like your old life that you thought was so wonderful kinda loses its shine . it doesn't seem such a great thing anymore .

its like a big disappointment --like when you stay up late one night and discover that santa claus is just mom and dad .

it's disillusionment --the illusion you were living under all of your life --kinda dissolves a little --just enough for you to see it for what it is .

for a moment in that bank when you stepped behind that counter and put the money in the bag --it was like you had taken charge . like it was you who was robbing that bank . like you were for a moment free of all the demands and pressures and responsibilities that everybody always dumps on you and assumes you'll carry out.

for a moment you were in charge and making your own rules . living life on your own terms instead of always being dictated to and then doing your best to please .

you look inside that huge black hole of a gun pointed at your face-- in the hands of a screaming wild-eyed maniac--an animal that you know for certain would kill you ---you're standing in the midst of absolute chaos and something happens to you--something takes over you -- swallows you up and you can‘t get out .

if you really think that you are going to die in the next few seconds, and it doesn't happen --then afterwards you're not quite the same person you were before.

it's hard to explain if it hasn't happened to you . it's like you tell this great joke at a party and no one gets it--dead silence --all you can say is "well hell...guess you had to be there ."

"terri's loves--the inevitable avalanche of innocuous sin"

and then one day it just happened--my whole life changed . existence as i had known it would never be the same. andy was going over our bank statement one night and yelled upstairs for me to come down and look at something . he was furious--at first i was wondering if it was something that the kids or i had done , but it wasn't me or the kids that he was angry at .

the bank had made an error in our checking account and we had $1.42 less than we should have had in that account. andy was livid --he showed me two other statements from the bank that were incorrect . one for $1.06 too much and another for $0.38 too little--and all within the last 27 months.

he was livid --he hated sloppy accounting . he told me we were taking our money out of that checking account .

the very next day i was to go to the colombia savings and loan --a new little bank on 25th and Central to start an account --he explained that he had to meet important clients and might have to stay late at work --so i was volunteered for the task.

i thought i'd pop over there real quick as soon as they opened and get it done because it's only a few blocks from my job --you could walk there and back in less than five minutes .

i had been at work more than an half hour early any way and as usual getting things done-- so what could bob say ? if you're always at work early , you figure they owe you a favor when you need one. i asked and bob said , 'sure - go ahead' , but what i walked in to made me wish i hadn't asked .

i was there less than two minutes--'the first customer of the day ‘ was how the manager had greeted me smiling and all--very friendly man with a very kind smile , i thought.

i was about to say good morning to him when all of a sudden they came rushing in wearing business suits and black ski-masks. it was a holdup . they were actually robbing the bank. the poor little manager --he was terrified --i think he had an accident and wet himself a bit--either that or he was sweating a lot down there.

they punched the poor man in his face and then one of them even started beating him with the gun --you know--pistol whipping him.

it was totally unnecessary because he kept saying he would cooperate--maybe they couldn't hear him because they were so carried away with adrenaline and he was sort of whimpering at the time.



you know of course , the thing to do is to always stay as calm as possible in these kind of situations . the robbers were just yelling and cursing --i mean saying really filthy things .

the teller--it was still early and it's a small branch so other than the manager , she was there all by herself --the poor girl was obviously quite pregnant and just wasn't loading the money fast enough for them .

her hands were shaking so badly that the money was falling out of them . she was dropping stacks of money and crying and all the while-- pleading with them not to hurt her.

finally one of the robbers dragged the little manager with him behind the counter to take her place but he wasn't much better-- fumbling around with the cash drawers .

the second robber --i think he was in charge -- he yells something to warn the other one like , ' he's trying to hit the alarm switch !'

so the other robber wallops him really hard in the face with the gun and the poor little man just drops to the floor --like a sack of nickels--the manager is sprawled out on the floor. you don't know if he's dead or what , but i think i can see that he's still breathing a little.

by then the pregnant girl is just absolutely hysterical crying and trembling , 'please don't hurt me --please don't hurt me--please don't hurt me'. the robber yells at her --i mean it's more like he snarls like a wild animal--'shut up bitch or i'll put one through your head --shut up bitch or you're dead !'

what are you supposed to do? nobody was really in charge. It was total chaos and pandemonium --all you could think from watching tv movies was that the police would be here in less than 3 minutes --these men were obviously crazy-- on drugs maybe --a shootout would ensue and we'd all be killed.

at first you’re petrified , but looking at that poor girl's face --she was beyond simple fear and into pure panic --she was so scared she couldn't even think anymore --she was beyond the comprehension of language level --he could yell at her all day and she'd just sit there on the floor quivering and crying .you knew that she probably couldn't even respond anymore to what they were saying --she was so completely paralyzed with terror the threat of shooting her meant nothing--it probably couldn’t even register in her brain --her mind was on overload and had shut down--it was as if fear had made her mind snap --like an insanity --like a break down--almost to where she was no longer an intelligent woman but just a blubbering incoherent child on the floor.

the robber seemed like his brain was on 'stuck' too--he seemed to think that if he yelled loudly enough at her --it would sink in or something --so he kept waving the gun in her face and saying he was going to kill her.

despite your own fear , you realize you had to do something to get those men out of there --or else the police would come --the shooting would start and we all would die --common sense would tell anybody this .

so you made up your mind --or it was more like circumstances made it up for you.

my legs walked forward . one of ski masks turned around and his mouth fell open like he'd seen a ghost approaching him. he put his gun right in my face --with that big black hole almost between my eyes and said "i'll fucking kill you , lady ".

but i just think i may have ignored him because now HIS hand was shaking after my voice quietly told the pregnant girl to please stop screaming so much because otherwise she was going to wake the baby.

she froze too and just stared at me with her mouth still open --both of them like idiots looking at you as if you had lost your mind --when it was these same two , who were screaming and yelling like raving idiots just moments before.

so while they just stood there like dummies, i gathered up the money from the cash drawers--it wasn't that much --maybe fifteen thousand --couldn't have been more than 20 at the most--if it was even that much. there wasn't enough time to be sure . i put it all in the sack for them and told them they should hurry up and leave before the police arrive.

they look at you like you are the one who's crazy while they stand around doing nothing --just wasting time --waiting so long they could have gotten tickets for loitering . If you're going to do something --at least do it halfway right. they were going to get us all killed so something had to be done .you probably know by now that i hate inefficiency.

then after that is when things started to get a little surreal--if you know what i mean .

the bank manager is on the floor unconscious--the pregnant teller is on the floor in her pink maternity dress with her legs wide apart and her knees drawn up --so you could see EVERY where the sun doesn't shine and she's just holding her belly rocking back and forth going, "shhhhh...shhhhh" to the baby -- like she had really had a nervous breakdown . you know one of the ski mask men was actually looking under the poor girls dress !

now the one ski mask man is shaking so badly the other one has to push him towards the door so they can leave .

the other one grabs me by the wrist and pulls me with them as they leave but i was so worried about the poor pregnant girl sitting there rocking with makeup running all down her face --so i said before i left, " sweetie ,the baby's gonna catch cold if you leave the windows up too long ". i think she got it because as i was being pulled out of the door the last thing you could see was her adjusting her dress --trying to cover up--a little.

when we got outside , the other one --he was the calmest so you'd figure he must have been in charge--looks around-- sees that no one is really noticing anything and he gets a 'brilliant' idea . he hands me the bag with the money --they make me get in their car--they get down low in the back seat of the car and i have to drive for them while they tell me where to go .

while we drive he's right behind me with the gun watching me , watching the street and fumbling through my purse and i'm wondering if he thinks i may have pocketed some of the bank money?

i can see him through the rearview mirror while he keeps reassuring me that 'if you cooperate' and do as they say you won't be harmed--"lady,you won't get hurt --all you'll get is an interesting story to tell your family" .

i couldn't help but think to myself --"terri ,you're doing all the work here--and all you get is "an interesting story? something's wrong with this picture ."

we drive for maybe five --ten minutes through morning traffic and no one pays us any mind --no sirens --nothing . we see one police car ,but he's giving directions to somebody obviously lost and we slip right past .

finally 'ski mask' tells you to pull into a parking lot near the train station . we take a ticket from the machine --the yellow gate goes up and we pull all the way to the rear where there's no one around and not as many cars.

you begin to think again about the way he was looking under the pregnant girl's dress while she had her legs spread open and propped up --and then , for the first time , you wonder what they might do to you .

he reaches up and shuts off the engine and takes the keys. i can't see his face but his eyes

look cold and brown .

Very cold and there's an un-nerving hardness to them , but his mouth is the exact opposite . his lips are full ,sensuous --not thin -not cruel and when he speaks you can see that his teeth are very well cared for-- near perfect except for the two lower incisors which are tilted slightly in the wrong direction --like my daughter lorena's were before the braces .

around the mouth, through the hole in the mask you can see the emerging "5 o'clock shadow" of dark brown stubble .

you start to tell him that you haven't seen their faces and won't say anything to the police , but it's almost like he reads your thoughts and says "we're not going to hurt you , you can't identify us --but we can identify you--terri", he says my name as he looks at my driver's license . "so think carefully what you say to the police".

and then he smiles at you almost pleasantly--a nice smile . a very nice smile. he must takes special care of his teeth , you tell yourself because they are quite white and an old and very heavy smell of tobacco hangs on his clothing and his breath --but the teeth are smooth and bright and except for those two lower teeth --perfectly even . they don't look anything like a smokers teeth .

then he ties your hands with the shoulder strap to your purse and blindfolds you with your own blue rain scarf .

part of you tells yourself he's going to shoot you , but you hear him laugh again--not a mean laugh --more mischievous than cruel-- as he tells you to "count slowly to 1000--no make that 10,000-- before you yell for help and start trying to get loose".

then you can smell the old tobacco much closer and feel his body heat . you can sense he's close --suddenly you feel a tingling sensation rushing through --a kiss --slightly moist on your lips--it’s surprises you --shocks you--really --soft and puzzling , but also a little eerie in a way and then he whispers , "good bye ,terri --it's been a pleasure" .

You hear the car door open as they get out .the door closes --no gunshot to the head that you half expected -- so they leave and you wait and then you yell your ass off.