You take a deep breath and set down right in the middle of a large
group of Sunday churchgoers.
“Yarrrgggh!” You say.
A middle-aged man yells and topples backwards onto a fire hydrant. They
children scream and quickly scatter, a few scrambling under parked cars
while the others disappear over a nearby hill. An old woman from the
group gives you a troubled look, clutches her chest, and collapses with
a gasp.
“My heart.” She says.
“Gotcha!” you shout, “Man you should have seen your faces!”
The wind scatters some leaves across the sidewalk in front of you. The
crumpled form on the sidewalk moans gently. From under a nearby car
comes the sound of pathetic whimpering. The middle-aged man lies still
in the grass except for the occasional twitch of a leg. You scratch
your head and wonder where your prank went wrong. After deciding you
don’t care, you head into the bank.
Upon entering the lobby you hear the sounds of a scuffle. Someone is
screaming. A small bald man stands at the window with a gun to the head
of a customer. “Alright now hand over all the dough in the safe, or you
and the broad gets clipped, see!” he says to the teller.