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America Is a Murder Mystery, and Everyone’s a Suspect
It’s week two of the Quarantine Diaries! Time for a bank job, Peapod, crepes, worry, and weed.
I needed supplies for the bank job. This was gonna be a one-man job. Any slight mistake could get me killed. I needed a car (check), gloves (check), a disinfecting wipe (check), and a couple of checks to deposit that I pre-signed at home so that I wouldn’t have to touch the bank’s pen (check). If I could get in and out clean, I’d be fine. Nothing would catch me.
I got in my car. The gas gauge was wavering between half full and a quarter tank. My mom told me she filled up her car’s tank because of the coronavirus, and I was like, What’s the point of that? The goal during this crisis is for you to not go anywhere. Now I was in my own car, and I was like, Maybe Mom is onto something. Maybe once everything collapses, we’re gonna need a full tank to speed away from all the toilet-paper-hoarding zombies.
But that could wait. In theory. First I had to deposit my paycheck and grab some cash.
This was my first trip out of the house in days. I could not have been more excited to run the most basic of errands. My wife and I had originally planned on me going to the grocery store as well, but our…
