Ellova Palava (international mistress of disguise) and Jordan Grainger (getaway driver) waited in the old 1962 Sambabus outside the main entrance to the bank on the Main Road, as requested by their illustrious leader the Dropped Apostrophe (utter nincompoop), both frantically looking for any signs of movement from within the bank.
Jordan noticed an approaching police car in his driver side mirror, and instantly reached into the small glove box at the front of the vehicle to retrieve a folded atlas, the police car pulling in behind them just as he managed to unfold it and turn it the right way up. The policeman walked up to the driver side window, waited for Jordan to wind it down, and asked the expected term is there a problem here, sir, to which Jordan replied “no, not really a problem, but we seem to be lost – we’re looking for Avenue Road.”
“There’s no Avenue Road in this town, sir,” the policeman said helpfully, looking at the map “although you’ll not get very far if there was with that map – it’s for somewhere in Spain.”
“I told you I couldn’t read maps…” Jordan said, glaring at Ellova, desperate for a way out of the situation.
Ellova lowered her dark sunglasses and looked directly into the policeman’s eyes about to say something in Spanish, when the policeman’s attention turned to the bank doors which had burst open and two people ran through carrying open holdalls which were leaking money; the policeman quickly spoke into his collar radio and then, looking back at Jordan, said “you’ll have to move along now, there’s a robbery in progress here…”
‘All a Matter of Timing’ has been written for Six Sentence Stories, where the prompt word this week is ‘Term’.