Give Me Your Bits. I Have A Pie, And I'm Not Afraid To Use It.
Golden Prize
Admiral Biscuit
The note was harder than she thought it would be. It needed to be clear and concise, not too long and not too short. She had to print carefully—her penmareship was terrible, and that wouldn't do at all, so she laboriously printed in block letters.
Spelling was important, and on her fifth attempt she realized that the pony who would read her note might not have good vision; might rely on reading glasses, and that was something she hadn't taken into account.
Big block letters was even harder, because they needed to be even, and the words couldn't run off the edge of the page.
Persistence paid off, though, and on her eleventh attempt, she had a note she was satisfied with. Folded once, width-wise, on nice heavy paper. Very professional.
The pie had been another difficult decision, and she'd wound up buying two. She wouldn't be taken seriously with the wrong kind of pie. Cream or meringue were the best, but didn't always travel well, especially if they needed to be kept hidden.
Golden Prize was fairly confident in her ability to keep it balanced inside her old school backpack. But there was always the cherry pie with a top crust if she changed her mind. Not as good a choice, perhaps, but more likely to arrive intact.
Everything was laid out on the kitchen table, and she'd checked it all before, but she checked one more time, just to make absolutely certain. Note, pie, and two felt squares that were nearly her coat color with a new cutie mark painted on them.
That was all she'd need.
She yawned, and since she was in her apartment alone, didn't bother covering it with a hoof. Tomorrow was the big day.
$ $ $
She slept on the couch, not because she had to but because it felt right.
$ $ $
She got up early, so she'd have plenty of time to groom and eat a good breakfast. And then she packed everything, balancing the banana cream pie delicately in her backpack.
Golden Prize took one long look in the mirror before leaving her apartment, making sure that her mane was neatly in place and there weren't any alfalfa seeds stuck in her teeth and that the fake cutie marks were even on both flanks.
She trusted her own hooves more than the superannuated elevator in the apartment, especially when it came to keeping the pie safe.
$ $ $
Out on the street she had to leave plenty of room around all the other ponies to avoid being jostled, but that wasn't too hard. It was after the morning rush, and a little bit too early for the crowds of shoppers to venture forth. On her way back to the apartment, she'd have to contend with them, but that was okay. That was all part of the plan.
Her destination was familiar, and she paused for a moment before passing through the heavy oaken doors into the cavernous lobby.
Inside was hushed like a library and she tried to minimize the noise her hooves made as she crossed the marble floor and got in the queue. She had to remind herself to remain calm and quiet, to control her breathing and look normal and everything would work out just like she'd planned.
Time seemed to stretch out and yet it was hardly any time at all before there was nopony in front of her and then a teller waved a hoof and she crossed over the last little section of marble and boldly placed her note in front of him.
He unfolded it, glanced at it, frowned, and then looked up at her. “If you could wait on one of those benches over there for just a moment.”
She wasn't sure that was how it was supposed to go. But he hadn't raised a fuss, and that was good. The banana cream pie could stay safely in her backpack, at least for now.
The teller moved away from his little window, and she stretched out on the bench. Maybe he doesn't have many bits left in his drawer. She'd been watching closely, and the tellers had been passing out lots of bits. He could be going to the vault to get some more.
Indeed, that seemed to be the case. He moved back to a desk and spoke with a pony there, a mare in a nice dress who looked very important.
The two of them conversed a little bit, and then the teller walked over to another desk.
Golden Prize glanced over at the door, just to make sure, but the guardstallion was still at his post, half-asleep.
The teller didn't seem to be in any rush at all as he left the second desk and moseyed off in the direction of the vault. It was good that there wasn't any hue and cry, but it was frustrating that it was taking so long. She was starting to get antsy, and that wasn't good.
After what felt like an eternity but was no more than five minutes according to the large clock on the wall, the teller was still gone. She turned her head back and her lips were on the pull for her backpack, and it took all her willpower to not just yank it open and grab the pie out and—
The teller had made his way back into the maze of desks, and he was trundling a small cart in front of him. It wasn't piled high with bits, but then banks liked to be discreet about that sort of thing.
Much to Golden Prize's disappointment, he had to stop again at the well-dressed mare's desk, before he finally returned to his little window.
He shuffled around something under the counter, and then neatened up on top, before waving a hoof to call her back over.
“I'm so sorry about that,” he said. “Now, what was it you were wanting?”
Golden Prize blinked once, as she tried to mentally process what he'd just said.
“What . . . I. . . .” She snapped her muzzle shut and got her thoughts in order before she spoke again. “I gave you a note.”
“You did?” The teller glanced around at his obsessively neat space. “I don't see a note.”
She could see it, plain as day, so she pointed a hoof directly at it. “It's right there.”
“Oh dear.” The stallion tugged at his bolo tie and followed her hoof as well as he could. He tugged a deposit slip out of its cubby and examined it.
“Not that,” Golden Prize said. “Behind—no, that's not it; it's on top of the baskets . . . not the spindle, the baskets.” She stomped her hoof in frustration as the teller examined the deposit slips a second time, fanning them out on the desk like playing cards.
“Everything seems to be in order here,” he said, dropping the slips back in their pigeonhole.
“Did you seriously not see my note?”
The teller looked at her blankly.
“You looked at it! I saw you!” Golden Prize suddenly noticed that all the other bank patrons were looking in her direction, and even the guardstallion had roused from his slumber somewhat. “It was . . . never mind.”
She spun on her heel and stormed out of the bank, leaving the befuddled teller behind.
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Little did she know, the name of the teller was Selective Blindness.
The See-No-Evil defense technique can be astoundingly effective when used correctly.
A relative of a friend of mine helped rob a bank, by cashing a bad check he'd received from a Nigerian prince.
No lie. He actually fell for that worn-out old scam. And he's still mad at the bank because they "owe him money."
Maybe he's related to your boss.
I bet the teller had been in this situation before and knew just what to do. Add in Golden Prize’s inexperience and we got a good comedy. Now I wonder how she got her cutie mark in the first place?
Miss Harshwhinny would be quite disappointed had she been there. In her early days, when cynicism hadn't already hardened her against the foalishness of her fellow ponies, she probably would have taken th matter in her own hooves to show them how a proper bank-robbery had to be.
You'd actually be surprised how well this tactic plays out when someone "knows" how things are supposed to go and is nervous. Confidence is key in any scam, both regular and counter.
Maybe the teller saw the note and remembered that he can't read.
This Note Is To Be Ignored.
Note: "I have a pie, give me bits."
Teller: "Please wait over there."
Goes to friend. "Want some pie?"
"No thanks."
Goes to boss: customer has a pie to share. Want it?"
"Ugh. Another pie? Fourth one this week. Go ask the guard in the vault."
"Yes, ma'am."
...eventually...
"So no one wants pie?"
"No. Just pretend she was never here."
"Okay."
The end.
Troll level 5/5
Like!
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! AWESOME NAME!
...okay. So that's a thing I read, then, I guess
Well, I could see her crying on the street now.
I too have to wonder how Golden got her cutie mark given her inexperience in the field. Still, I'm impressed by the teller's weaponized obliviousness, and I legitimately feel sorry for the bank thief. Great work, and thank you for it.
Ok, who's the one twit disliking all of the comments?
8593638
I dunno, but usually when someone does that they also dislike the story, and apparently the drive-by downvoter forgot to do that.
Aw poor Golden Prize, it must be tough to be a good hearted pony yet a bank robber.
A fun little story that is honestly the most pony take on crime I've ever seen.
Somehow, when I saw this story in the New Stories feed yesterday, I knew it was gonna be featured.
8592983
You've got to pick the right teller. I can't remember the author, but I read a short story once where a robber planned the perfect bank heist, only to have the teller faint dead away when he quietly announced he was robbing the bank.
8593029
Oh, believe me, I've used it before. I had a friend who had a slightly felonious bent, and I realized that if I never asked questions about where something came from or anything else, I had plausible deniability.
Funnily enough, my manager and his son got a fake check mailed to them as one of those Craigslist scams (they were selling a truck). I'll give him credit, he didn't rush off to cash the check; he called the supposed issuing bank first.
8593105
I honestly doubt it. More likely, he rolled a perfect 20 on his obliviousness check.
I think a worthwhile question would be what's the difference between a successful bank robber's cutie mark, and a failed bank robber's cutie mark?
cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0535/6917/products/mistakesdemotivator.jpeg?v=1416776264
8593165
Yeah, she would. I bet when Miss Harshwinny robs a bank, it gets robbed.
Total lack of professionalism by Miss Golden Prize.
"You suck at this. Give me that pie and I'll show you how it's done."
8593218
It was her first time--cut her some slack!
I had a friend in college who could pull off nearly anything he wanted to, because he was really good at assessing the situation in a heartbeat and flawlessly playing the right role. It was impressive to see. And you're right; if you're gonna do it, you've got to be bold.
8593323
Ooh, that's actually something I didn't consider. Granted, a bank teller probably can, but since in my versions of Equestria, literacy isn't universal, that would have actually been an interesting twist.
8593424
Basically, my manager's take on everything I write down and place upon his desk.
8593523
This wasn't a pie for eating, it was a weaponized pie.
What's the difference?
I have no idea. Ask the buffalo.
8593540
8593568
It is, indeed.
The continuing tales of Manehattan's worst bank robber. (But she does try so hard.)
8593577
I know, right? Of all the ways for her perfect plan to have failed. . . .
8594877 Meringue, obviously.
8594878
I'm going to un-follow you, just so I can follow you all over again, mate. :)
8593629
Cheerilee said "a cutie mark appears on a pony's flank when he or she finds that certain something that makes them different from every other pony." She didn't say that a pony was necessarily talented in what her cutie mark represented.
Which, I realize, implies that sompony might have a cutie mark for worst chef in Equestria . . . .
Man, that would be a shitty kind of cutie mark to get.
It's probably the one I'd have.
For better or worse, my manger pulled the exact same thing yesterday (well, except for the robbery part). I set an important piece of paper between his hands and five minutes later, he'd not only lost it, he'd forgotten that I ever gave it to him.
8593671
Living a life of crime in Equestria is probably very difficult.
I feel like no matter what, Golden Prize isn't motivated by greed. If she had successfully robbed the bank, she either would have given it back later, or else given all the money to less fortunate ponies.
8593930
Thanks!
I do feel that in general, ponies would make the worst criminals ever.
8594374
Your precognition is better than mine.
Totally surprised me.
8594554
Ponies are not good at crime, and that's a fact.
8594905
Your
8594890
Well, yeah, meringue or cream pies are the pies of choice when it comes to bank robberies.
Actually, thinking about it, what kind of pies was Pinkie throwing in that one episode?
<googles>
Damn, those were cakes.
vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/mlp/images/9/98/Pinkie_Pie_throwing_cake_S2E10.png
. . . fruitcakes would probably be a war crime.
8594911
dammit.
8594926
I really like doing this.
8594862
And there y'go. Isn't it refreshing to find that your boss is NOT the stupidest person on the planet? It's like a few months ago when one of my sisters over whom I'd just about despaired, said something that actually made sense.
8594864
That is what the Darwin Awards are for! You do something so stupid that you remove yourself from the gene pool. They also have honorable mentions for those who either had kids before their stunt or didn’t somehow die. Some of them are actually pretty funny.
8594923
Somewhere in these stories there is at least one where Fruitcakes are classified as weapons of mass destruction under SALT. And are extremely frowned on by Celestia. Primarily because when she eats one, you can SEE the weight gain.
That, and the sun and moon never behave properly due to the gravity shift.
8594974
Sometimes I make it too easy for you, too.
8595042
I figure even the most ignorant people are right sometimes. Not always because they meant to be, mind you. Sometimes it's accidental.
8595070
Are those still a thing? I mean, I guess they would be. . . .
Supposedly, one of my former co-workers got to clean up after a Darwin award winner . . . I haven't found any independent verification of that, though, so it's possible he wasn't telling the truth about it.
8595401
Ooh, that's an idea; maybe Joe goes into a bakery and discovers that he needs ten forms of ID and there's a waiting period before he can buy a fruitcake, and he doesn't know why.
8598079
It is rumored that long ago in the hayday of railway building, someone desperate to finish a tunnel through a mountain off quickly, loaded a fruitcake into the tunnel boring cannon and fired it. The survivors were still celebrating the success of the tunnel completion, when the fruitcake completed its orbit of the planet, and struck the cannon from behind, killing the rst of them.
The tunnel and line were abandoned, the fruitcake entombed, with the workers, inside their monument.
Ever since, people proposing crazy ideas have been called fruitcakes.
8598141
There's precedent for using weapons of mass destruction for civil engineering projects; somebody in the US proposed using nukes to get a highway through some rough terrain. Luckily, they didn't actually do it, but I can't help but wonder if they had if it might have been the only section of highway in the US that glowed in the dark.
Maybe one of the many things Raven keeps with her at all times is the codes for launching the fruitcakes.
pre00.deviantart.net/c50e/th/pre/i/2012/319/1/4/raven_with_a_scroll_by_ksunshee-d5l213q.png