Stick 'em Up!

Nothing had gone right for her. She was woefully behind on her rent. She was unemployed. And she was without the car that had been repossessed. She was in collections. But none of that mattered.

She wanted a child.

Years from now, the rent would be forgotten, the job irrelevant, and the car worthless anyway. But a child! A child would still matter.

Unfortunately, she had poor success with men, most of the ones she had picked being poor choices anyway. How could it have been otherwise? Men were pigs.

All of her relationships had devolved into screaming matches and slammed doors. Her misanthropy notwithstanding, she knew her failed relationships were just as much her fault, due to her constant despair and Debbie Downer observations, her temper tantrums, and her micromanaging. She wondered, How could I have a child without the involvement of some man?

Modern medicine to the rescue: IVF — in vitro fertilization! Instead of IBF — "in bed fertilization."

Her younger sister had done the IVF, but she had spent a fortune. Now the pressure was on, with her sister having a baby. Her younger sister, at that. Yet, she couldn't afford what it cost to fulfill her pregnancy plans since that way was beyond her reach. It cost money. Lots of money. Over $10,000 per cycle. And would she even get lucky on the first try?

Where would she get the money? What if it took more than one cycle? More than three? Or four? She would only cry herself to sleep as she schemed unsuccessfully for ideas to get her hands on some cash.

Then she had a dream. She dreamed her problems were over. And, as is common in dreams, it was the illogical side of the brain writing the script. Could she actually rob a bank to make her dream reality and, further, make her dreams of motherhood come true?

Robbing a bank.

How hard could it be? You go in, wave a gun — even unloaded was OK — and hand over the note. No more worries over the money she needed. No more angst over how to pay for in vitro fertilization. And if the first cycle didn't take, no more worries about how to pay for the next one. Or the next one. She certainly wouldn't need more money. She would be all set up.

She bought her gun. She wrote her note. She rehearsed her getaway, unfortunately, on foot. Still, she would be in and out so fast, just turning down an alley would befuddle anyone trying to tail her. Most bank robberies have a car for getaway, right? She would use this to her advantage. No one would expect a pedestrian getaway.

The day came.

She changed her blonde hair to brunette with a wig. Simple. She wore a COVID mask as she walked to the bank. No one would find that unusual, even now, right?

She entered the bank. She looked around cautiously. No Security Guard! How could that be? Nevertheless, she took it as a sign that God was on her side. After all, she was going to give Him a brand new soul to love. How could her crime be a sin when considering that?

She approached the counter. She brandished the gun. The person behind the counter went white.

"Just do what I say, and no one gets hurt," she instructed her.

She handed her the note. Obediently, the bank personnel scrambled to retrieve her loot for her. As instructed, they placed all the frozen vials in the cooler she had brought with her. It had wheels, so she could just roll it out easily, even with all of its extra weight.

She knew she was ovulating. Hell, the excitement of the robbery probably had spiked her hormones. As she escaped with many hundreds of men from whom to choose, she would begin her pregnancy journey without a care in the world.

"Hold on tight, fellas," she called out to her rolling cooler as she made her escape, "one of you's gonna get lucky tonight!"