.....by Richard Koss
A tale of a nerdy teenage boy's desparate attempt to escape from the domination and ridicule
The house was not a total disaster thanks to Alvin, Billy’s 15-year-old
brother who did all the housecleaning, dishwashing, and vacuuming for the
meager weekly allowance Sam gave him. Since his mother died two years ago,
Alvin had become more of a recluse than ever, spending almost all of his
leisure time in his basement laboratory which he put together quite
impressively with the help of the popular science and chemistry books he
collected. Sam, satisfied that he had at least one son who was an athlete,
tolerated Alvin's nerdy appearance and personality and occasionally even
brought him home some chemicals for his laboratory experiments. Sam was
able to do this when he was on the night shift where security was loose.
The toughest part about stealing these items was finding them since he could
barely read the names Alvin printed, let alone pronounce them.
Yes, Alvin was certainly the nerd of the family, though his grades were only
average, except for science. He did not look forward to his sophomore
year. With the exception of chemistry, he had little interest in other
school subjects and his social life and friends were practically
nonexistent. Alvin was small and slight weighing barely 100 lbs. and he
wore glasses which made him look like a real "Mr. Peepers," the title
character of an old television sit-com who was definitely a nerd before the
word was even invented. One of Alvin’s classmates found an old T.V.
magazine at home which featured an article about this popular television
show of the sixties starring Wally Cox. The kid brought the magazine to
school and the students immediately began calling Alvin Mr. Peepers, which
he disliked to no avail because even some of the teachers chuckled at the
name-sake resemblance. His brother’s friends also got a big kick out of
the comparison and instead of discouraging them, Billy laughed right with
them.
It was almost noon as Sam nudged Billy's protruding butt with the heel of
his Shoe. " I'm gonna order pizzas from Gino's. You want everything on
yours?" "Yeah," Billy muttered without taking his eyes off the television.
Sam dialed Gino’s number. After a hundred pizzas or so Sam had the number
memorized. Knowing Alvin wouldn’t eat any pizza, he ordered only two large
pizzas with the works. Alvin didn’t mind picking up their pizzas because
Sam let him keep the change. Besides, Gino's was only about two miles away
just south of Monroe Boulevard.
Just as Billy was about to yell downstairs for Alvin he looked up and saw
the silly looking boy standing in the hallway at the top of the basement
stairs. Alvin had a glowing look on his face as he beamed out, "I've done
it! I've finally done it!" He was really excited and continued in a
confident tone. "I have just created a cloned substance equivalent to
Nitro-Glycerin in its most potent form." In his right hand he held up a
four- inch vial about three-quarters full of a clear liquid and sealed with
a plastic cap.
Looking at the glass vial in his hand, Alvin continued, "This could make me
very, very, rich and if it does, you'll never see me again, I promise you
that." Billy scoffed at his brother. " The only way you're ever gonna get
rich is if you rob a bank, you little weirdo." "Maybe That's exactly what I
intend to do." Alvin’s tone was subdued but serious as he leered at his
brother through the small, oval shaped lenses which accentuated his overall
frail appearance. Sam, ignoring most of this conversation, stared at Alvin
from his recliner. He felt a tinge of pity for the little man as he
observed how much he looked and acted like his mother.
In one quick motion, Billy grabbed the pillow he had been resting his head
on and threw it at Alvin's outstretched right arm. Alvin moved his hand
just in time as the pillow whizzed by within inches of the vial. Alvin
yelled in his high pitched voice. "Do you wanna die, you jerk?" Billy
smiled and thought about the last time Alvin got this angry with him. It
was just last Winter when he pissed in a beaker containing one of Alvin's
experiments. "No, I don't wanna die, Alvin," Billy responded
mockingly. "But before you blow yourself up, get your ass on your bike and
pick up our pizzas.” Sam handed a ten and a five to Billy and he threw the
crumpled bills at Alvin's feet. Alvin picked up the money and walked out
the side door into the attached garage with the vial of clear liquid still
in his hand. He placed the vial gently on a storage shelf next to a roll of
masking tape. Tearing off two strips from the roll, he firmly taped the
vial in an upright position to the back of the shelf. Then he picked up the
wire basket he used to carry pizzas and hooked it on the handle bars of his
bicycle. Off he went down the street towards Monroe Boulevard on his way to
Gino's Pizzeria.
Fifteen minutes later Alvin returned with the pizzas. Billy was waiting at
the side door entrance to the garage. He took the two cartons from Alvin
and sidestepped the clutter on the living room floor, handing a pizza to
Sam. Alvin stared at them both, watching as Billy couldn't wait to get a
piece in his mouth. Heading back into the garage, Alvin laughed to himself
while listening to Billy utter a garbled profanity as he burned the roof of
his mouth on the pizza.
Back in the garage, he grabbed an old pair of sunglasses from another
section of the storage shelf and put them in his pants pocket. He then
removed the tape from the vial and holding it in his right hand, began his
trek, a solo journey he had thought about for some time.
So little Alvin, staring straight ahead, continued his slow,
steady march and as he reached Monroe Boulevard he turned North. In
another three blocks he would arrive at his destination.
The Monroe Boulevard branch of the Franklin Savings and Loan was a small
office with four tellers, a new accounts clerk, and a branch manager. The
branch had no security guard and only one entrance. Alvin had thought about
doing this for a long time. This was the only way he could be free to do
the things he wanted to do. The only way he could have all the money he
would ever need or want and the only way he could get away from Billy and
dad and everyone else who made fun of him.
As the traffic paraded along the Boulevard, no one seemed to notice the five
foot three inch frail looking boy with baggy pants and tennis shoes walking
along the bicycle path, with a small glass vial in his right hand.
Walking very gingerly, it took Alvin almost ten minutes to reach the
crosswalk at Hamilton Avenue and Monroe Boulevard. The entrance to Franklin
Savings and Loan was now in front of him only fifty yards away. The red
light turned green and Alvin's heart began to beat more rapidly as he moved
along the crosswalk. Stopping in front of the glass doors, Alvin gently
slid the vial into his right pocket and reaching into his left pocket,
removed the pair of sunglasses. He took off his regular glasses and stuck
them into his left pocket while putting on the sunglasses. Now he could
barely see the figures inside the bank through the glass doors.
Although he was extremely nervous, Alvin opened the doors and walked
directly to the customer counter where there were deposit and withdrawl
slips and pens. He was all alone at the customer counter and despite his
nearsightedness, Alvin could see the only bank customer seated at the branch
manager's desk.
Taking a withdrawl slip from the container box, Alvin picked up a ball point
pen and began to print on the blank side of the slip. As he printed each
word, he could feel his heart racing faster and faster. After printing
several words, he stopped to read what he had printed. He crumpled the slip
in his hand and threw it into the waste can underneath the counter. Taking
another withdrawl slip, he began again.
In a few minutes, his work was completed. He held the slip up close to his
face and sliding his sunglasses to his forehead, read his printed words over
several times. With his back to the tellers' windows, he glanced over to
the branch manager's office just in time to see the lone customer leaving
the manager's desk and heading for the doors. He stood at the counter for a
moment. The bank was quiet except for the faint sounds of a calculator and
a line printer in the teller area.
Alvin began his silent walk across the carpeted floor to the
manager's glass enclosed office. As he entered the manager's office, he
held the slip of paper in his left hand and placed his slightly trembling
finger tips on the top of the glass vial in his right pants pocket. His
entrance to the front of the manager's desk was so quiet that the young
manager failed to notice his presence for a few seconds. The manager,
athletic looking and well groomed, was somewhat startled to look up and see
this almost waif-like boy with sunglasses standing in front of him.
His tone was pleasant as he asked, " And what can I do for you, young
fella?" Quickly, his smile evaporated for he sensed the boy's state of
trauma as Alvin handed him the printed slip without saying a word. The
young manager read the printed message.
PLEASE DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE ME. I HAVE ENOUGH NITRO-GLYCERIN IN MY HAND TO BLOW THIS BANK INTO A MILLION PIECES. GO TO YOUR VAULT AND FILL A SACK WITH TWENTIES AND TENS. IF YOU SET OFF AN ALARM OR NOTIFY THE POLICE I WILL THROW THIS VIAL AGAINST THE WALL AND WE WILL ALL DIE.
Discarding all the standard operating procedures he had learned in his
formal training on how to deal with crises situations, the manager remained
seated and began to admonish Alvin. "Do you realize how much trouble you
could cause your parents and yourself by this crazy stunt?" He looked at
the vial Alvin was holding in his hand and stood up. He was well over six
feet and towered over Alvin as he continued in a calm voice. "Why don't you
set that thing down here on my desk and let me call your parents? We don't
have to get the police involved in this."
The boy was now visibly shaken and the manager realizing this, stepped out
from behind his desk and grabbed Alvin's upper arm firmly with his left hand
while reaching for the vial with his right hand. As Alvin attempted to pull
away, his fingers came apart and the glass vial with the clear liquid began
its descent to the carpeted floor of the manager’s office.
Sam reached for his last piece of pizza as Billy continued his channel
surfing. " Look at the mess you made on the carpet. Why the hell can't you
use a tray like me?" Billy answered, "Alvin's gonna vacuum this afternoon.
Where the hell is he anyway?" The living room windows facing Monroe
Boulevard rattled and Sam and Billy felt the unmistakable vibration as they
heard a distant boom like an explosion of some sort. Sam barked, "What the
hell was that?" They both got up and looked out the windows. It looked
like a typical summer afternoon with the normal flow of traffic moving along
the Boulevard. As Sam got back in his recliner, Billy looked at him, and in
a cackling voice said, "That was probably Alvin blowin up somethin’ with
his Nitro.” Billy’s comment came out of nowhere and caught Sam by
surprise so that he nearly choked on his pizza.
The sight of his father spitting and coughing anchovies and green
peppers and mushrooms all over the place got Billy started and now they were
both roaring with laughter. And the roar of their laughter made them
oblivious to all other sounds; even the sounds of the sirens of the fire
engines and police cars speeding north on Monroe Boulevard.
of those around him, especially his father and brother.