Teapot

James dove into the car with several comically large tan bags with dollar signs on them. He didn’t think they actually had those at banks, but this was an entire day of firsts for him: Robbing a bank, threatening a pretty bank teller with a gun, slipping his phone number hastily scratched onto a business card into said bank teller’s hands as he made his getaway. Now all that was left was exciting car chase from the police.

“Step on it, Frank!” James yelled as he pulled the back door shut.

“I’m a little teapot short and stout–” Frank sang timidly, his voice faltering once. The car remained in park.

James sighed. He forgot that when Frank got really nervous he would sing children’s songs. “We don’t have time for this, Frank!”

“–here is my handle–” Frank continued.

“Frank?” The police had arrived and began surrounding the car.

“–HERE IS MY SPOUT!” Frank screamed more than sang.

“Shut your spout and punch it!”

Suddenly Frank popped the car into first and slammed on the gas. “WHEN I GET ALL STEAMED UP HEAR ME SHOUT!” He ran over three policemen. “TIP ME OVER AND POUR ME OUT!”

James sighed in relief. They made it out. Not as clean as he hoped, but out nonetheless.

…Then he remembered the business card he had slipped the teller had come from his own pocket.