The plane roared down the runway, and lurched into the air. Mr. Bunny closed his eyes, and tried very hard to forget that he was crammed into a flimsy metal tube, speeding along at hundreds of miles an hour, thousands of feet above the earth.
Instead he thought about what he’d just done. He’d stolen a lot of money from the bank. The same bank that had put food on his table and a roof over his head for twenty years. Perhaps if he could make himself feel guilty he wouldn’t be so afraid of being on a plane.
But he couldn’t feel guilty. He’d done an awful thing. Was there something wrong with him that he couldn’t feel the slightest pang of guilt.
He––Mr. Bunny––had robbed the bank, but he hadn’t harmed anyone. When he’d first started working at the bank it had been robbed by real bank robbers.
The bank robbers hadn’t hurt anyone either, but they’d had guns, and they’d frightened people. They fired a shot at the ceiling, they’d shouted, and they’d threatened to shoot people. Then they’d gone over to Ms. Davenport’s desk, and made her fill a gym-bag with money.
Ms. Davenport had never fully recovered from the experience. Two weeks after the robbery she’d taken early retirement.
Six months after the robbery, Mr. Coventry had a big meeting with all the bank’s employees. He told them that the bank-robbers had been caught, and that they’d been sentenced, each, to twenty years in prison. By this time Mr. Bunny had been promoted, and was working upstairs. That was how he discovered that the bank had cheated Ms. Davenport on her pension.
It was funny that the robbers had gotten twenty years in prison, and he’d worked there for twenty years. Mr. Bunny chuckled to himself. Perhaps one of the robbers could get his old job at the bank.
Mr. Bunny’s mom, placed a huge apple pie on the kitchen table. She took a knife and cut into the thick crust. Mmmm. Mr. Bunny loved the crust his mother baked. He couldn’t wait to bite into it, but when the crust was cut his best friend, Emily’s, head popped up. Why had his mother baked Emily into the pie? Emily hopped out of the pie, and poked Mr. Bunny on the shoulder. “We’re here,” she said.
Mr. Bunny was back on the plane. It was no longer moving.
“We’re here,” said a pleasant voice.
Mr. Bunny stared up at the flight attendant. She was giving him a big grin. “Enjoy your vacation,” she said.
“Thank you,” said Mr. Bunny. He looked out of the window. It was sunny, and there was a palm tree right next to the window. He should have been completely happy, but he wasn’t. He missed his mom. He wished he could call her.
On the other hand, perhaps it was better she had passed on. He didn’t really want her to know he’d robbed the bank, even if he hadn’t hurt anyone.