Russell was in full-on gangster mode.
He had commandeered a fast, reliable getaway car and had it currently idling outside First National. Only thing missing? His cohorts who were still inside stuffing duffle bags with stolen cash.
But then came the hobo and his squeegee. Russell couldn’t blast the car horn and attract any attention. He knew better. So he pressed down slightly, a little toot.
Seemed like the smart move. Until it wasn’t.
La Cucaracha was loud and long and got everyone’s attention.
“You know novelty horns are illegal,” said the Trooper suddenly at his window.
Russell did now.
The Weekday One Hundred 