Maleb yowls like a strangled cat in a bag falling down a flight of stairs. The young pasty lipped boy tries to break out of his restraints, but they were titanium, much harder to shatter. Madt stares at his wild child from the driver side of the stolen Lamborghini Huracan, shaking his head at his disappointment of a child.
Madt revs the engine to the beast of a car as they pull into the Bank of America. It might look small from the outside, but that was because the money vault was underground. Madt slips on a black ski mask and throws one to Maleb. Maleb grabs it with his flailing arms and pulls it onto his head.
Maleb shrieks. “Let’s go! I’m a savage! I’m a savag-“ but his cry is cut short as Madt clamps a hand down on his son’s mouth. “Shut your mouth, son”, Madt growls in a low voice. People stare as Madt pull out a fake assault rifle. He made it himself, with some cardboard and glue. If anyone looked close enough, they would see that the “gun” was actually flat. “Put your hands in the air!” he bellows. All of them obey. Madt slips into the bank, a crazed Maleb thrashing on his shoulder.
Madt hands Maleb a wooden club and releases him when they are inside of the air-conditioned building. Maleb takes off like a wind-up toy car, waving his large wooden stick in the air, and pummeling anyone who gets in his way with it. Madt sneaks over to the teller area. He raises the cardboard AR. “Open the bank vault!” he demands. Billyette Ibn Fulan, the only teller on duty at the time, submits to the bald man’s demands. Madt races down the flight of stairs to the basement. Luckily, no staff is on duty.
Maleb races after his dad, almost clubbing him over the head. “Watcha doing, dad?!” He screams. Madt throws open the unlocked bank vault door and begins throwing bundles of cash into his duffel bag. Maleb crows as he sees the large mounds of money. “Ooh! Money! I’m rich! I’m rich!” Maleb grabs a bundle of money and crams it down his gullet. He chokes on the paper, but somehow manages to swallow it.
“Stop it, son!” Madt shouts, sweat running down his forehead as he throws the last bundle of cash into his duffel bag. “Let’s get out of here!” Madt zips up the bag and throws it to Maleb, who manages to catch it. Madt runs up the stairwell again, followed by his obedient son.
The police sirens are getting closer, Madt can tell Billyette the teller had pressed the silent alarm. Madt grabs his son, who is busy unzipping the duffel bag, and hurls him into the car. Maleb is curiously examining the cash. Madt doesn’t notice as they zip off down the street, tailed by a dozen cop cars. Maleb swallows one cash bundle. The afterburner of the Lamborghini kicks in, and flames shoot out of the exhaust pipes as Madt makes his getaway.
Madt and Maleb had escaped. Thirty minutes later, Madt pulls into the apartment driveway, and gets out. Maleb follows his dad into their apartment, and Madt grabs the duffel bag. He joyously unzips the bag, and gasps as he sees was is in the bag, that is, nothing. Madt pulls out a single, wet ten-dollar bill, and screams. “W-W-What happened?”
Across the table, Maleb burps, rubbing his stomach. Madt looks at this son, and realization dawns across his face. Maleb’s mouth is coated with ripped green paper, and his son’s stomach is fills to its brim with the money he had consumed.
sully 
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