Ringo Goes to the Bank

“Here he comes,” Colin was warned.

Ringo trudged into the bank soaking wet. He quickly turned to make sure the cloud that followed him for the past few blocks had not followed him inside, exhaled, coughed twenty-four times, and made his way to the slightly shorter of the two long lines. His appearance and odor invited everyone to turn Ringo’s way for a moment longer than the social contract permitted.

Colin was warned of Ringo during his orientation to become the best new teller at Douglas Financial he could be, but did not truly believe this first glimpse of the man. He was just worrying about how easy it was to go on autopilot with these bank customers on just his second week on the job. Colin’s imagination had him frolicking on this impossibly beautiful sunny afternoon with the neighbor who either is totally into him or knows about the ant infestation in his kitchen and is waiting for the right moment to tell the super.

“Saluta…” Ringo coughed seventeen times in rapid succession.

“Hello sir.”

“New?” Ringo pointed, accusatorily.

“Yes sir my name is…”

“Right!” Ringo placed a soggy ten pound note specked with a gooey purple substance on the counter.

Colin looked at it for a beat too long.

“Jam for me toast!”

“What?”

“Ja…” A bird flew out of Ringo’s mouth and out onto the street. Colin watched the bird fly for as long as he could.

A single golf clap? Or a long standing ovation?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.