Congo
I grip the bars of my cell, saying goodbye to the freedom I now realize I loved. As I look longingly out the tiny window an old man, who I suppose is my cell mate speaks to me. "What got you thrown into this hell hole?"
"You're not gonna believe it, but here it is."
I always knew I had been meant for bigger things than janitorial duties. I had been scrubbing toilets and mopping floors at the International Museum of Lava Lamps and Other Psychedelic Indoor Light Sources, commonly referred to as the IMOLLOPILS, for the last fifteen years. When I started, I thought it'd just be a job to get some cash while I developed a real career. That never really panned out. My only friends were the other three janitors on staff, and then there was Congo. Congo was really my best friend out of all of them. I know what you are thinking. What kind of name for a person is Congo? But that's where you're wrong; Congo is a monkey. Well, he would prefer I say he is a Chimpanzee, which is an ape not a monkey. I got him from one of the older janitors, Larry, in my second year at IMOLLOPILS. Larry, apparently, was obsessed with monkeys and bred them in his apartment. He offered me one, and I figured I could use the company. Two weeks later he was arrested for animal cruelty, but that's a completely separate issue. He came with the name Congo, and that just seemed to stick. So, for thirteen years, I took care of this monkey. Now let me tell you right now monkeys are not all farting noises and harmless pranks. My apartment smells worse than the lunch I left in my locker for a month. And I've had to replace all my furniture with unbreakable substitutes. Despite all that, it was really nice to have a companion around. But enough about my life before things got interesting.
I'd been cleaning for fifteen years and I wanted a change. On Thursday December 2nd, I discovered my true calling. We had just received a shipment of some new exotic lamps for the holiday season. I was washing the windows outside the loading dock, when I saw it for the first time. It was the Motley Menorah. After working at the museum for fifteen years I learned a few things about lamps, and this was the mother of all psychedelic light sources. To start off the thing was huge. It was about six feet tall and another four wide. Even when unplugged the thing made you think you were high. I heard it was filled with rare chemicals they found on the moon that spontaneously change color. At that moment it had patches of color I had never seen before. Supposedly, when it was on, the chemicals warmed up and the color changed continuously and actual multi-colored flames would shoot out each of the three foot tall candles. I didn't know its exact value at the time, but I knew it was far more than I made in a year.
When my shift was over that day I hurried home. I yelled to Congo "Daddy's home!" Over the years we developed some routines and he would freak out if I didn't follow them. That usually meant I sustained some sort of bodily harm. Congo came over and leapt onto my back. "Come on, buddy, we got some research to do." I went over to my computer and typed in Motley Menorah. I scrolled down the Wikipedia page on it, my jaw dropped. Congo's did too, and he can't even read. The Motley Menorah is estimated to be worth 2.4 million dollars. That is when I knew my calling was to pull off a heist of biblical proportions.
* * *
Over the next week I spent all my free time, which as a janitor is ample, studying the setup of the Menorah. It was sealed in a glass case, one inch thick. There were video cameras all over the room, and I had no idea what security systems lay hidden within the glass case. I realized that if I was to pull this off I was going to need help. I called up the entire janitorial staff, and invited them all over to my place. I told them I had something special to show them. It was Friday December 10th when our first meeting took place. The guys arrived just in the order I expected them to. First was Bernard, we called him Nardo. He was a nerdy kid who was taking computer classes at the local college and cleaning at the museum to pick up a few extra bucks. He was early to everything; always wanted to make a good impression. Then came Tyrone; we just called him Papa T. He was the biggest guy I had ever met. I think he was in his late fifties or early sixties, but I am pretty sure he still could have crushed my head with one hand if he wanted to. Finally, forty-four minutes after the meeting was supposed to start, Crackers showed up. To this day I still don't know his real name. He was a scrawny little man, with long scraggly hair. He twitched a lot, and he never really made much sense whenever he spoke. So my crew was assembled.
I had already stolen a blueprint of the floor the Menorah was on while I was cleaning the museum manager's office. I rolled it out on my coffee table, and pointed at the case where the menorah was. "We are going to steal the Motley Menorah." The guys laughed at me, but my face remained serious. As they all noticed this, their laughter came to a stop.
Papa T was the first of them to say anything "I am five years away from retirement. Why the hell would I risk getting caught trying to steal some stupid lamp?"
"But it isn't just some stupid lamp. It's the Motley Menorah. Do any of you have any idea how much it's worth?" they all shook their heads. "Two point four million. Yeah, Papa T, do you want to retire in that shitty shack of yours, or in a beach house in Hawaii?"
Nardo looked concerned and nervous. "But what if we get caught? We aren't trained in thievery. I don't even know what to do."
"Oh, you are killin' me Nardo. If anyone has a shot at stealing this thing it is us. We have constant access to the entire building. So…are you guys in?"
They all looked at each other, then at me, then back at each other. I think they were trying to decide whether I or they were crazy. Crackers put his hand in the middle of the table, and declared "I'm in."
Papa T gave me one last look and reluctantly placed his incredibly large hand on top of Crackers'. "I suppose I'm in as well."
That only left Nardo. He looked like he was about to have a brain aneurism or something. He kept moving his hand half way to the table, then at the last second, pretending like he was going to scratch his knee.
"Listen, Nardo, put your hand on the fuckin' table. You don't have a choice at this point anyway." And, with that, Nardo's hand was in. I put my hand on the top of the stack. "Now, we need absolute discretion here. No telling wives, girlfriends, mothers, fathers, or whatever it is you hang out with in your free time, Crackers."
From that point on we got together every night. We planned every detail of the robbery, so we would all know what each of us were doing at every minute from the beginning to the end. Through the course of the planning we realized that we had no idea how to go about disarming the security systems that lay beneath the glass case. Therefore, part of our plan had to be taking the security guards hostage. We all had no problem with this because everybody knows that museum security guards are total dicks anyway. But, we realized in order to do this we would need guns, and none of us had guns. That's when Crackers told us he wanted to bring in an extra guy. A friend of his that he called The Cheese. Crackers said he could get us the guns we needed, but I was still hesitant to bring in somebody new. Crackers swore up and down that this guy was good and he was solid, so I decided to let him in.
Other than his strange odor, I have no idea why they called him The Cheese. He was similar to Crackers, except he was a large man, but he was definitely equally crazy. But that didn't matter, because Crackers was right; this guy delivered the ammunition. We were now packed to the brim with AK-47's and all the bullets you could ever ask for.
We decided the night of December 24th would be the best night to strike. We figured there would be few cops working and even less asshole security guards. That morning came quickly; on it Congo seemed to be going berserk about something. At the time I thought he just somehow sensed that I might be in danger.
We knew all the routines that took place in the museum, so we knew to begin our strike at exactly 12:17. That was when we knew that Merv, the eldest security guard, would try to steal whichever of us janitors' food. We were correct. We walked directly up to the front door and the room was empty. We had the keys to every room in the building, so phase one, the entry, was complete.
Nardo now had to run off to the electrical control station on the second floor to hack into the main frame. His only job was to disconnect any access the museum had to the rest of the world, so that when we did make contact with a guard, we didn't have to worry. But of course even with this minor duty Nardo was freaking out.
He was whining, "I don't want to do this. We should just turn back now. No one will ever know.
That was when I slapped him directly across the face. "Nardo, it's gonna be fine. Go up stairs like you said you would. Hack into the main frame. Keep us safe."
Nardo disappeared into the darkness of the museum. Then It was our turn. Merv would be coming back soon and Papa T, The Cheese, and I were responsible for rounding up all the guards, breaking the glass case, and then hauling ass and menorah outta there. Merv was going to be back soon, so I radioed Nardo, to check to see if we were safe to move yet, "Nardo, what's the sitch."
"I just need one more minute to hack into the main frame."
"Are you kidding me, Nardo. You've had like nine minutes." I was furious with Nardo's incompetence, but it was to be expected.
"They have some sort of defensive system here. I got rerouted onto Facebook, and they attacked my profile with vampires and zombies."
"Can it, Nardo. Just get the fucking job done."
And a few moments later he said "I'm in."
And that was just in the nick of time because I heard Merv's old fat ass walking towards us. Then I saw him holding my roast beef sandwich. I had been waiting to do the following for fifteen years. I pulled up my AK-47 and shouted "Hey, Merv, drop the fucking sandwich and get on the ground." I saw his hand go for his walkie talkie, so I fired some shots into the air. The explosive sound with every shot thrilled me. And with that one act the game was on. Papa T and The Cheese knew what was up, so the ran for the menorah and started collecting guards on the way. I told Merv to get up and follow me to the menorah. It appeared that Nardo had done his job well, because I didn't hear any alarms. He should be on his way down to the loading dock to help us get the menorah in the van and go.
We reached the room on the third floor where the menorah was kept. We had managed to round up all the working guards and only needed to break the glass at this point. I fired a few bursts at the case but nothing happened. "Shit." I fired the entire clip into the case; a few cracks began to form but there was no significant damage. "Fuck." Then I saw one of the guards make a quick movement towards Papa T. And then I saw Papa T fall to the floor. One of the guards had a knife, and he had stabbed Papa T in the leg. I acted quickly, and delivered a swift hard kick to the head. He was out, cold.
"Let's kill these bitches." The Cheese said in a soft cool voice, and pointed his gun to Merv's head.
"No we just have to get through this case real quick, get the hell outta here, and get Papa T bandaged up."
The Cheese pulled something out of his jacket. "I got this." It was a grenade. He pulled the pin, turned, and said, "Run."
We ran. After a few steps, I was able to hide behind a giant lava lamp. Right after the boom I heard glass shattering and my concerns disappeared. I think some of the guards might not've made it, but I didn't care at that point. The Cheese and I grabbed the menorah and went as fast as we could. Papa T was limping behind. The next few minutes were a blur, but somehow we carried this two-ton lamp down to flights of stairs all the way to the loading dock.
When we got there I could tell something was wrong. Nardo was pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. And then I noticed the flashing red lights.
Nardo started to scream at that point, "What did you guts do? I heard an explosion and them the alarm we gotta get out of here." Then he began to weep. I hated Nardo so much at that moment.
"Why didn't you disarm the security systems!" I put the menorah on the ground my back was killing me. "Where is the van?"
Nardo stopped his crying for a moment, "I don't know. Crackers was supposed to pull up ten minute ago."
"Well have tried him on the radio." I pulled mine out. "Crackers! Come in Crackers. Where are you? Where is the van!"
That was when I started to really freak out. Papa T was bleeding all over the place. Nardo was crying. The Cheese had probably killed some people with that grenade stunt of his. And now where was the fucking van.
I could here the sirens coming. The police were on their way. I had no idea what to do. In anger I decided to just fire some shots up into the air and screamed at the top of my lungs "WHERE IS THE VAN?" And then, as if I had summoned it, the van appeared in the distance. It was swerving all over the place, and finally, pulled up to the loading dock. I pulled open the back doors and we lifted the menorah in to the car. The police were almost here. I ran to the passenger seat and yanked open the door. The beaten and brutalized body of Crackers fell out onto my feet. There was Congo, sitting in the driver's seat, with the biggest smile I'd ever seen on a monkey's face. I froze. I had no clue what to think or do. And, with that, Congo floored it. The van zoomed off into the night. The police rounded all of us up, and now here I am.
The old man looks unhappy, "Man, if I wanted a horseshit story about some made up monkey, I 'd read Curious George."
At that moment I could only wish the story I had just told was simply a fairy tale.