unreliable narrator draft

Unreliable Narrator

 

                The clock finally struck six. It was time for us to carry out what we’ve been plotting for what had seemed like years. The day had dragged on because of my anxiety towards the situation at hand. It was finally my time to become rich.

Our group consisted of some of the dumbest people I had ever met in my entire life. These five strong, evasive men were just stupid enough, though. Most of them came from my high school nearly a decade back. There was Stevey, Boar, John Carlos, Snake, Tim, and then there’s me.

We all went out for a few drinks at our favorite pub before we went out for the heist. The waitress at our table noticed how Tim wouldn’t stop shaking.

“You alright there hun?” She said.

He looked incredibly nervous and looked up slowly, as if he really didn’t want to talk to her.  

“I just need another drink. Can I get the usual?” Tim replied.

                For some reason all I noticed was the deviant, evil look in our waitresses’ eye. I began to question if she was really even a waitress or not. I guess it was just the stress of the day that came over me.

                “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions before we head off?” I said.

                “Sure, go ahead and shoot.”

                With a somewhat stern tone I asked; “How come we have been going to this restaurant every Monday for the past five years, and you’ve never crossed our paths?”

                “Oh I started last week! Probably why you’ve never seen me” she replied.

                “Well alright then, I guess we should be going now.”

                This awkward exchange lead me to believe that the day wasn’t going to go as planned.

                We left the pub, and proceeded to Northeastern Bank just fifteen minutes down the street. We were equipped in our all black dodge van. There were several M5 rifles lined up in the trunk of our van with grenade launchers and red dot sights attached. It was safe to say we were ready to take down anyone or anything in the way of our target. Snake was our guns specialist, and he carefully loaded the weapons as we approached the destination. At this point my hands were clammy, and my body was sweating. I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t really describe. All I knew was that it was our time to shine. We got out of the van and put on our armor. We took the rifles, and signaled to Tim to stay in the car and be on the lookout.

                Five minutes and thirty seven seconds later, we carried out one of the toughest robberies Boston had ever seen. One thing was getting in the way of this, though. Our so called "waitress" was an FBI agent and ratted us out to the headquarters, "so that's the story behind it." The investigator replied with "Alright. We will escort you to prison tomorrow, and I hope you have a nice 25 years. It was nice talking with you."