It is natural to use gallows humor in the worst of situations. As a child, I always said a few quips before getting a few whips. As a young man, joking with my platoon on who’s wife would remarry first was as common as asking how’s the weather (it was often terrible). And even now, perhaps because of the booze, or the confidence that our lunacy will not stretch to the men in black suits, I casually speak to the vagrant I befriended on the topic of how we would go about robbing a bank.

“In my country” I say, pulling Felix close enough that my cold breath surrounds us,“There were too many fools who went about robbing with a pistol.”

“At least they gave a shot at it.”

“A shot they missed repeatedly.”

I point at a youthful man, perhaps a decade younger than myself, strolling into the bank with a pretty brunette by his side. “You see that? Clean, classy, looks like his father owns an oil company.”

Felix raises his brows, watching as the man disappears into the bright lights of the bank doorways.

“Are you hitting on him Salvatore?” Felix asks sluggishly. Though the bottle in his hand has long been empty, he takes another swig of it.

“What? No! What I mean to say is that he’s exactly what the bankers are looking for.”

Felix hums in agreement, his muddy blue eyes closing momentarily before focusing on the bottle again. “Ah, so your saying the bankers are hitting on him.”

I slap the bottle out of his hand and it crashes on the pavement. Felix laughs. The gall of this man!

“What I’m telling you is that banks trust a look. So if I buy myself a suit and put you in a dress and a wig, we could pose as wealthy clients and use fake credibility to gain access to the vaults. We take some money, skip town, and live to tell the tale.”

“Why do I have to be the chick?” Felix asks, straightening out his tattered coat and sitting a little straighter than before on the curb.

“Because I’ve got a beard dumbass.”

“A glorious beard.”

“Exactly.”

Felix places his gloved hands beneath his buttocks, and curls himself tight enough that the tall and lanky man looks small. I would buy him a coffee to warm up, if I weren’t penniless myself.

“Tell me, how would you rob a bank?” I ask.

“I don’t mind dressing up as a lady and doing it you way” Felix responds. The wind blows cold enough that his eyes squint, as do mine. “But if I had to pick one way, I’d walk in there wearing the very clothes I have now.”

“Audacious.”

“Extremely so. But thats not all.” The mischievous grin of Felix that makes him appear the young man he is spreads on his face as he explains just what he would do.

“I would walk into the bank and claim to return something they lost. Something worth all the gold they possess, and tenfolds!”

“I can only begin to imagine what would be worth so much” I state. Is it that he believes he could trick a bank into paying for an asset thats nonexistent? Would that even work?

“When they call out their manager with his snooty snare, he’d ask me, ‘what is it you claim we’ve lost’? And I’d respond, in exchange for all you gold, I’ll give you something no one here possesses. Integrity, honesty, and a dose of common sense!”

I go on laughing as his story progresses, until he eventually stops and looks down at me, hysterical on the cold pavement.

“You fucking lunatic” I say between breaths, my face flushed from laughing so much. If I weren’t drunk, would I even find any humor in what this boy says? “How’s that robbing?”

Felix flicks me on the head with his rough fingers worn from the guitar. I laugh more.

“I would be robbing them. Robbing them of something worth more than any amount of wealth.”

“And what is that?” I ask, still laughing, and still dumbfounded.

“Their dignity.”