Financial Crisis.

"At R.L. Peter's and J.N.K. Matthew's Banking, Loans, Business Investments and Insurance Agency, we're here to help you in your hour of financial deprivation, regardless of who you are, or how much you've managed to mess things up in the past," the teller said, in a voice that told of years of repeating that phrase – none of them enjoyable.
"May I help you, sir?" she added, equally as unenthusiastic.

"Uh, yes... splendid. I'd like to make a withdrawal..."

"Name?" The interjection came quick as lightning, taking the customer completely by surprise. She was good at this. This was her talent. A small smile came across her normally indifferent countenance as she sat straighter in her chair and waited for the response.

"Um... wha...?"

"Your name, please, sir," the teller sighed, dejectedly.

"Oh, right, Jim," The newly introduced Jim began; now regaining his confidence. "Jim White."

"Jim White... very well. Do you have any proof of identity?"

"Uh..." he stammered "Just let me... check." He half-turned and reached for his pocket. Pulling out his wallet, he flipped through its many folds. Sweat running down his brow, he found exactly what he was looking for; photo ID in the form of a driver's licence. He hadn't left it at home, for once. Handing it to the teller, he felt almost a sense of triumph.

The teller felt almost a sense of defeat. Far too many people were able to prove their identity, it was too boring. "Thank you... I did ask for
your name, though, not what people call you."

"Oh... sorry. It's actually James. I prefer Jim, though."

The teller glanced again at the card. It said "Jeremy White" in solid black print. It had a photo too... someone else's. "Aha, fraudulence, eh? I'll see what the police department thinks about this!" and with a fiery determination clearly visible in her newly ablaze eyes, she threw the phone straight off the hook and up into the air... caught it, and punched in the number of the nearest police department. Exactly three seconds later, iron bars slid over the doors and windows as the word "Lockdown" appeared on the LCD screen above the teller's desk.

Meanwhile, Jim was wondering what, exactly was going on. "What, exactly, is going on?" he demanded in a somewhat dazed manner.

"Oh, not much... except that you've been caught red-handed in an act of fraudulence!" The teller's entire personality seemed to change completely; all composure lost in favour of an obsessive judicial rage. This was obviously something she rarely got to do.

"...fraudulence?" Jim said as he came to terms with the word, "All I
ever did was give you my driver's licence... I know it's a bad photo, but..." he stated (still in a bit of a trance) as he casually noted that his wallet was made of black vinyl as opposed to its normal brown leather... this is when he remembered that his younger brother, Jeremy's wallet was black. And vinyl too.

He'd taken the wrong wallet.

His trance suddenly spasmed and died. He realised that there were really loud sirens blasting. He also realised that this was all very real.

The teller continued rambling: "...so even now, the police are on their way here, and you'll pay for your intended crimes, felon!"

"It was an accident... I swear! I brought the wrong card! My brother is Jeremy White!"

"Save it for the judge!" She'd always wanted to use that line. Finally being able to say it caused her eyes to renew their blazing sevenfold. Her smile broadened into a frightening grin and she began to laugh... almost maniacally, but she hadn't laughed like this before, so it wasn't very convincing.

Jim wasn't doing much at all, rather, the alarm siren along with the negative slant of the situation had caused the poor man to faint. So he just laid in a heap while the teller towered over him, still cackling.

--

"Ugh... my head... what happened?" he gasped, "What, exactly, is going on?"

He looked up to see the teller, serving customers as usual. The siren was still blaring, and now there were the soothing sounds of nearby rotor blades and police sirens too. It was all rather depressing, having been woken up that way.

"The criminal has re-awakened! The felon has re-entered the waking world! The social degenerate has revived from his deep slumber!" the teller cried, still rather maniacal, "Quickly, re-initiate lockdown, or he'll escape relatively quick!"

The bars instantly returned to impassable status, and the poor customers were made to wait on the bank's meagre seating arrangements. "Please ma'am, I'll be late for dinner! My missus will be waitin', and I'll get it bad tomorrow!" one of the newly-detained unfortunates implored.

"Dinner can wait, this is about greater things. This is about justice," stated the vigilante teller, quite matter-of-factly.

Suddenly, there was silence.

The rotor blades had stopped. The sirens had stopped.

And so did the silence, as an immense scraping sound was heard coming closer and closer to the bank's double doors. That is, until the scraping sound stopped and the doors were blown off their hinges into a flaming mess on the bank's once pristine floor. In stepped a policewoman heaving an excessively large chain gun, primed and loaded. "So, this is the delinquent. This is the felon. This is the social degenerate who tried to pass off a phony card."

"Delinquent? I'm 26!"

"Get ready to die, punk. This here chain gun cares very little about your age." She had been given a permit to use this weapon indiscriminately, as long as it was used to fight crime. She was rather excited to be finally utilizing it.

The 6-barrel cannon began rotating.

Jim closed his eyes and waited for the end.

--

"Hey, I know that guy!"

All eyes focused on a single officer.

"He's James White. He keeps losing his wallet and accidentally using other people's. It's kinda funny."

"Something like what's happened here?"

"Yeah."

"So... this was just a misunderstanding."

"Yeah."

The policewoman's countenance fell 1000 feet. This wasn't something she got to do very often. "Ok then, let's pack it all up," she sighed.

--

So, at the end of it all, Jim got his $100 withdrawn, which he later spent on acquiring a loaf of bread and some cheese with over $90 change.

The teller returned to her station, as her expression resumed its complete and total indifference. "At R.L. Peter's and J.N.K. Matthew's Banking, Loans, Business Investments and Insurance Agency, we're here to help you in your hour of financial deprivation, regardless of who you are, or how much you've managed to mess things up in the past," the teller said, in a voice that told of years of repeating that phrase – none of them enjoyable. "May I help you, sir?" she added, equally as unenthusiastic.

A young man carrying a brown leather wallet simply stated; "Yes, thank you, I'd like to make a withdrawal, please."

-Interim7