Poor Hunter

"I am not going to listen to some banjo playing bible thumping redneck tell me I must submit to my husband and stay home barefoot and pregnant."

"Dawn I never said that. You need to come home, NOW."

"I can't, this is too important a time, it is something I need to do. When my mom said it was important I needed to learn how to swim, my parents took me out in the lake and threw me off the boat. That's how I learned how to swim."

I replied, '"You ever consider they weren't trying to teach you how to swim?"

I looked at my watch. "There is a bus ticket with your name on it leaving at midnight. If you are not on it I am filing for divorce."

I heard Dawn cover the mouthpiece as she spoke to someone. "Anthony I cannot leave now. I am a big part of this movement."

"Dawn, do not confuse movement with action. Running around in a big circle has you going nowhere, no matter how large the oval is."

"Anthony, what, you are going to abandon me!"

Now I was confused. "Dawn, you abandoned me and the kids. Be on the bus." I hung up.

++++

As you can guess Dawn did not get on the bus. I did not hear from her until a week later.

"ANTHONY, how could you!" Dawn screeched over the phone. "You are filing for divorce! Claiming abandonment! You canceled my cell; I had to borrow a phone to make this call."

Now I know why I did not recognize the number.

"And those disgusting pictures you put in with the divorce papers," Dawn continued. "Was that necessary? What if the kids saw them?"

I cannot say I was surprised at her actions, and said so. "Now you are concerned about the kids? For your information the kids showed me the pictures. Your 'tentmate' you claimed to not be having sex with, posted the pictures on his blog, and your daughter was told about them by her classmates. I just printed them out."

"Look Anthony I am sorry, believe me I did not know he was taking pictures. I just got caught up in the moment. We are all here fighting for the same thing and I lost my head for a moment."

"Dawn how long did this moment last? As you can see I sent you seven pictures that have a time date for seven consecutive nights."

"Ok Anthony, it was not the worlds smartest move sleeping with him. But in my defense it was only one guy."

I looked at the phone in disbelief before answering. "How is the number of sex partners relevant?"

There was a lot of noise in the background so I had to strain as Dawn answered. "You need to put this in perspective Anthony, is my little fling worth losing everything over? This does not have to be a death sentence for our marriage, others have survived worse. This ah...event, can make our marriage stronger."

"Dawn that makes about as much sense as when Yogi Berra said, 'If you do not go to other peoples funerals, they will not come to yours.'"

I shifted the phone to my other ear as Dawn said "Listen, I have a guy here with me who has a Dad that owns one of the big law firms in this state. He tells me you are gonna get reamed in court if you keep up with this stupid divorce thing."

There was a lot of noise and than a mans voice came on the phone.

"Helllo? Hello? Can you hear me Anthony?"

"Yes Anthony can hear you" I replied.

"Listen buddy you are going about this all the wrong way." The voice said. "I come from a pretty big law firm and I have seen guys like you just get chewed up and spit out by the courts every day. If I represent your wife you are going to get your ass handed to you. I mean do you have any idea who you are dealing with, or who my father is?"

This is a strange conversation I thought before speaking. "Sorry guy I do not have any idea who your father is. Did your Mother not tell you?"

"WHAT!" the voice at the other end of the line sputtered.

I continued on calmly. "Perhaps your mother had sexual relations with such a large number of men that the candidate pool is too big to narrow down the exact man who is your father. I do not know you, but can try to assist. Do you have any racial features of Africian Americans, Hispanics, or Asians?"

"YOU ASSHOLE!" the male voice yelled. "MY family has been here since this damn country was a colony!"

"Why are you becoming so upset with me?" I questioned honestly. "I am only trying to help, besides I was not the one whose mother had sex with multiple partners before you were born. Perhaps you could enquire if your mother was living near a military or naval base at your time of conception. I believe the government keeps a DNA database, so you may be able to access it to confirm who your mom used as a sperm donor."

"I AM GOING TO WIPE THE COURTROOM FLOOR WITH YOUR ASS!" I heard the guy spit out before Dawn must have grabbed the phone from him.

"Anthony you still there?" asked Dawn.

"Yes Dawn I am still here. Are you sure you wish to have that guy represent you in our divorce? He seems very mentally unstable, probably due to doubts about his paternal parentage."

"Anthony, forget him, and forget this divorce. Every couple steps out at least once in a marriage, everyone does it, and no one cares anymore. Screwing around on the side is just not a big deal to people."

"You are incorrect Dawn. According to a recent Gallup poll, having an extramarital affair is one of the most immoral things you can do. A survey of 1,535 American adults found that 91 percent considered infidelity to be morally wrong, a higher percentage than objected to human cloning, suicide, and polygamy. Only 9 percent think an affair can be okay. We accept divorce way better now, pre-marital sex is okay, and so is having babies out of wedlock, but about two dozen states still have criminal adultery provisions."

"Damn you Anthony! Divorce is not the answer!"

"Dawn, there are no right answers to wrong questions."

"Fine Anthony, you want to fight?" Dawn spat into the phone. "I will clean your clock over this. Remember those who live by the sword, die by the sword!"

"What does cutlery have to do with our divorce Dawn? Besides, today those who live by the sword get shot by those who don't."

I heard some more expletives before the phone line went dead.

++++

Well one thing was for sure. Dawn did clean my clock and her attorney did wipe the floor figuratively with my butt during the divorce. Seems our state was one of the few with lifetime alimony. Her lawyer used that as clout, plus the previous earning years to grab my retirement account, any equity in the house, all the savings and any other cash. However the joke was on them as I did not care about any of that. I leveraged all the useless material stuff in exchange for sole custody of my children. As far as I was concerned, Dawn had won the battle, but it was an empty victory.

Dawns' role in the Wall Street protest had garnered her minor fame. After the divorce was final, my daughter showed me a press release article. Dawn had signed a book contract with movie deal attached, her advance was a considerable amount and may have explained why Dawn had not pressed for alimony. It did not explain why she had sought to drain my accounts and pleaded poor in regards to no child support.

Unfortunately, Dawns big time fame, translated into minor small town contempt for me. I was not prepared for was the reaction of my coworkers and the interaction with the town in general.

Janet, a teller at the bank and the single Mom we shared a babysitter with, explained it to me.

"You may not notice it Anthony, but there is still a lot of macho 'Can't handle your women' attitude among both the men and women here."

"Janet, what did they want me to do? Slap my ex-wife around? This was not a situation of my creation."

Janet patted me on the shoulder. "I understand it is not your fault. You ex-wife Dawn has a screw loose. Heck, with all the shrinks, pills and self help crap, I bet 25% of females in this country are under some type of mental health care."

I thought about this a second. "Wow Janet, do you realize that means that 75% of the female population is walking around with a mental illness untreated."

For some reason Janet punched me hard in the shoulder, muttering something about us being "all the same."

Rubbing my shoulder I continued. "I do not care what they think, besides what does my personal life have to do with my job at work anyway?"

"We work at a bank. People want to have trust in where they put their money and do their business. Many feel if you cannot keep your own family in line, how you are going to keep their finances in line."

++++

Janet may have been correct, but I did not care. My job was not my life, my life was my family. The job at the bank was a means where I needed to be, to allow me to have time with my family.

It did cause some problems at the bank as several customers "preferred" not to deal with me. The Manager told me gruffly they did not wish to have any "wimp" rub off on them.

So although I was more than qualified, I was surprised when one day the Bank Manager stopped by my small office before closing time.

"I am leaving you in charge tomorrow. It's your responsibility, they are your employees, you are in charge." He looked up before closing a file in his hand. "Try not to have any of them walk out or leave you."

++++

The elderly Security guard let me in that morning. I greeted my staff as they arrived After a quick tour I made a quick visit to the mens room.

I walked out of the restroom and was stunned. Two men with ski masks were in the lobby and my staff was lined up by the far wall. Most were trying to hold back tears, and I saw one lady had a large stain at the crotch of her pants. A masked man had a gun to the head of our old elderly security guard. The second bandit was holding some type of explosive device raised above his head.

"YOU THE FUCKING MANAGER!" the explosive holder shouted at me.

"Yes, I am acting manager this morning." I replied, trying to recall the training for a robbery man with a bomb. "We can assume you are here for bank funds. Otherwise you will need to return at normal banking hours when we open and the regular manager is here."

The 'Bomber' grabbed me by the tie and pulled me close, shaking the bomb in my face. "You a fucking comedian, asshole!" He then yanked my tie tighter before shoving me to the ground.

I pushed myself slowly off the ground, while loosening the necktie momentary chocking me. I hated wearing a necktie. Neckties had originated in Croatia sometime in the middle ages where it was primarily worn by men to show allegiance to their king. Why we needed them now is still a mystery.

I kept my hands up as I had been taught in robbery training as I spoke to the Bomber. "We do not want any problems. I will give you all the money we have. No need to harm anyone."

"Fucking A right you will give us all the money!" The Bomber said as he threw a big paper bag at the feet of the tellers lined up along the wall. "We want a million dollars! In CASH! And we want it NOW!"

I recall they told us in training to never disagree with the robber, so I offered "I want to give you a million dollars. But this is a small branch bank, we only order $75,000 in cash each week." I pointed at the paper bag on the ground. "Besides the textile strength of that paper bag will be unable to sustain the weight of a million dollars in currency, even if we did have a million dollars."

The bomber took a step toward me. "What the FUCK are you talking about?"

"22.026 pounds. Each $100 bill weighs one gram. There are 454 grams in a pound and there are ten thousand $100 bills in a $1,000,000, so a million dollars in 100 bills is 22.026 pounds. However we do not have all 100 bills or a million dollars."

The Bomber grabbed Janet out of the line of tellers. She cried out as he stood behind her with his arm around her waist and the bomb at her head. The explosive looked like some type of grenade. As the closest I had ever gotten to a grenade was the video game 'Call of Duty', I had no idea if it was fragmentation, high explosive, phosphorous, but it looked odd...

"ASSHOLE MANAGER!" The Bombers words interrupted my thoughts. "You listening to me? Give me all the fucking money in this God damn bank right now, or I blow this bitch's head off!"

"Sure." I said, and gestured toward the vault area. "We have not removed the currency from the vault yet. So all the funds are still in there."

"Then let's fucking GO!" The bomber spat, pushing Janet toward the paper bag, she shrieked falling to the floor. The Bomber pointed at the back of the bank. "Everyone into the vault!"

++++

We were all huddled in the vault, which was just past the safe deposit boxes in a gated room with a barred door. The masked robber with the gun had just left with the paper bag bulging with bills. The Bomber was blocking our exit out of the vault. I could hear the hushed cries of my staff cowering behind me. The bomber made sure the other robber was clear before he stepped out of the vaults entrance.

Just as I was going to breathe a sigh of relief, the bomber turned toward us, and in an underhand throw, tossed the grenade he had been holding into the vault.

"So long assholes!" were his parting words as ran away.

I remember people in other dire circumstances saying how time slowed down. I could never understand what they meant. Time is relative, it does not speed up or slow down. But I am here to tell you that despite what Einstein proved with E=mc2, I witnessed firsthand time slowing down.

The grenade, as if in slow motion, rolled to a stop at Janet's feet. I heard the scream of one of the tellers, and in my peripheral vision I caught a glimpse of another teller slowly crumpling to the ground as she fainted.

"It's your responsibility, they are your employees, you are in charge" popped into my brain as I dropped to my knees and scrambled to grab the grenade.

I seemed to be moving in thick syrup, and my hands felt as big as catcher's mitts as I fumbled, but finally grasped the grenade.

Knocking Janet over, I sprinted toward the vault exit, running in what seemed like quicksand. It took forever as I cleared the door, using my foot to kick the vault door closed behind me. I knew the century old vault door of cold rolled steel, would stop the blast from harming anyone inside. Unfortunately, in front of me the barred door to the safety deposit room was shut, preventing my leaving or throwing the grenade out of the room.

I spied an open safety deposit box we used for demonstration purposes sitting on the countertop. Jamming the grenade into the demonstration safety deposit box, I slammed the lid closed. Picking up the demonstration safety deposit box with my left hand, I turned and shoved it into an open position in the wall that was holding all the banks safety deposit boxes.

Suddenly the world exploded into white light, and I was thrown backwards over the counter.

+++++

There was ringing in my ears as my vision came back. It felt as if a thousand bees had stung my body. I must have been sitting on the ground, as I saw Janet was kneeling in front of me. Her lips were moving but I could not hear any sound. Janet reached out to pull off my necktie and wrap the necktie around my left hand.

I glanced up and saw a jagged hole where I had tried to put the demonstration safety deposit box containing the grenade. Smoke was still lingering in the room, and my face felt sweaty. I wiped my brow with the back of my right hand, but when I looked at my hand there was blood all over it.

Now more of the staff was gathered around me. I saw all their lips moving but I still could not hear them. I tried to get up, but my body weighed a thousand pounds.

Janet made the motion with her free hand that signaled I should stay down. Then she started to take off her blouse. As Janet removed her shirt I could not help but admire the firm C cup size breasts in a white bra. However my view was only momentary, as Janet wrapped her chemise top around my head and face. Her perfume from the blouse filled my nostrils, which was a lot better than the powder residue I had been inhaling. I was trying to guess the fragrance brand when I passed out.

++++

The fuzz cleared my head slowly and I determined I was in some type of medical bed. A snowball of gauze was wrapped around my left hand and another on my foot. Standing next to me was a man in a white coat. He had the stereotypical doctor look, and was writing on a chart.

"Welcome back Rambo," the Doctor said matter of factly, while not even looking up. "I picked a lot of shrapnel out of your face and scalp, but that will heal quickly." He chuckled. "You should be OK. Besides girls dig scars."

He pointed at me with his pen.

"You also lost a couple of fingers plus the thumb. The good news is there was enough of a thumb stub left that I was able to transplant your big toe onto your hand. After some rehab, you should get 80-85% of your movement back out of that hand." He looked up at me. "But I do not think you will ever play the piano in Carnegie Hall again."

I was confused. "Doc, I never even played the piano, let alone in Carnegie Hall."

The Doctor just shook his head. "Good thing someone used your necktie to stem the bleeding; that was quick thinking, and may have saved your life."

With that he hung my chart rack on the wall, and I stared at his back as he exited the room.

I felt movement on the other side of the bed and turned to see the bank manager standing there.

"Anthony, you crazy son of a bitch." The manager said shaking his head. "I never would have tagged you for a stunt like that. Damn security cameras captured the whole thing, looks like an action scene from a God damn Bruce Willis 'Die Hard' movie. "

He ran his hand through his thinning hair. "You know Anthony, we are all pretty proud of you and what you did..and...well..we all..ah..feel bad about how you have been treated recently, with the divorce and such."

There was what I know people call an 'awkward pause' before my Bank Manager tried to change subject by clapping his hands together. "Of course you are not the only one we are proud of."

He pointed behind him, and I saw Janet sitting in a chair. "Janet here slipped a couple of dye packs into the robber's sack. Fools were looking into the bag when the packs blew up. Coated them and the entire windshield with dye. Idiots lost control of the car and then crashed into Creme Time donut shop."

He gave a little laugh. "A-holes got arrested by about every law enforcement officer in the county that was there."

I tried to smile but my face felt funny.

Turning toward Janet, the bank manager said. "Janet, I must get back to the old salt mine." You will look after Anthony, won't you?"

Grabbing my shoulder he continued. "You take all the time you need Anthony. The banks got the tab on this one. Again we are all mighty proud of you."

Janet waited until the bank manager left before speaking. "Your kids are with mine at the sitter. Don't worry they are having a ball basking in the glory of being the offspring of the local 'Hero'."

Janet got up and closed the room door before walking over to my bed. She seemed to have a half smile on her face before she said. Scene from a "'Die Hard' movie, Anthony? She pointed a finger at me. "More like 'Die Stupid'. You do know that was a flash bang, not a real grenade.."

"M-84 flash grenade." I interrupted as everything clicked into place. "Standard load 2/3 pound grenade normally stuffed with a pyrotechnic metal-oxidant mix of magnesium and ammonium."

Janet shook her head. "I do not know about that, but if you had not gone all 'Man of Action', we would have come out of this with just a bunch a bunch of earaches."

I looked at the gauze snowball on my hand again before speaking. "True, containing that explosion in the safety deposit box turned a non-threatening blast into a real bomb."