I originally wrote this for a Hundred Word Crime story contest. It didn't get selected and I have no idea where else to place a hundred word story. Nothing weird, creepy, or spooky, sorry.
“It’s easy,” says Eddie, “the bank makes you wear a mask.”
“Yeah. There’s an epidemic.”
“Exactly. You walk in, hand over the note, and leave with the money. I’ll be in the car.” He slides a black pistol at me.
“What is this for? It’s not even real.”
“Shove it in your pants. Show the grip. Five dollars for a toy, four for paint. You know where to get a real gun for nine bucks?”
That’s how I ended up face-down in a puddle with a busted squirt gun smashed into my guts. All I saw of Eddie was taillights.