Mayor McCheese: A Bank Heist Gone Wrong

I felt like the main character in Richard Wright's Native Son. I was holed up in a condemned building in Chicago's South Side, with only my Nine, a pack of Camel Unfiltereds, and some old bread and cheese. I robbed a downtown Bank of America with some cats I used to run with, and the whole deal went bad. I managed to elude the cops with $500 in dye-stained bills.

But they weren't going to take me alive, and based on prior experience, they wouldn't take me dead either. I'd danced this dance before, and I knew the steps in my sleep.

The largest impediment to my escape was of course my unmistakeable good looks. In the paper the next day, a sketch artist had rendered my cheeseburger head with uncanny precision. But I had this bitch from around the way that was completely wrapped around my finger. I got her to borrow her moms's car, and I sat in the trunk while she drove us out of town. I got free food at all the roadside McDonald's from there to Dallas, where we chilled until the heat died down.