Dear Robber Bob

Dear Robber Bob,

It's a strange thing to be writing you a letter of resignation when I haven't done the job yet but I am afraid that's what I have to do, to stave off your disappointment.

I've had a sign, you see.

This sign has told me that to take you up on your offer of employment would be unwise. This is for the simple reason that I am now, in fact, too honest.

This has been a revelation to me as someone who has regularly deprived old ladies of their savings, lifted things without hesitation from the aisles of department stores and even once stolen a Ferrari (although it was an extreme need for speed that drove me to it whilst actually being fuelled by Speed so you could say it wasn't really my fault). Oh, and there was the small matter of that armed bank robbery but it was over in minutes and not really worth mentioning as it was only a few million, probably.

There I go again with the honesty! See what I mean? It's like a tap has been opened and I'm unable to stop myself. In fact, I'm doing you a favour in resigning because if I'm part of the team taking part in the biggest international art heist the world has ever seen, I may well cause the jig to be up before anyone's even started dancing. I know you said I was the perfect person for the job but was is the operative word in that sentence as I am not the man I used to be a week last Thursday.

I feel I should explain and pardon me if I go on too long but I believe, out of respect for the time you took to vet me, interrogate me, threaten my family and the fact that I am letting you down, that an explanation is needed. I'm also hoping it will save my bacon.

The simple reason is I've found God. Or rather God found me. Or Jesus anyway. The one on the Cross.

You see, as an opportunist, I'm always on the look out for swag and when I saw the open door to a church, I thought "Candlesticks". There's always a lot of bling in churches. I'm not sure why. Does God like shiny things? Anyway, I'm in the church, at the altar, just blowing the candles out on a pair of silver beauties when clonk! Something falls on my head and I fall to the floor. Luckily, I'm not knocked out cold but I hear voices (not angels or anything like that) and think, "I'm about to get rumbled!" So, I crawl across those cold tiles, a little blood seeping down my temple and manage to find this small cupboard to hide out in.

There's a bit of a kerfuffle outside and some excited chatter and cries of "Praise the Lord!" and "Jesus is bleeding!" - "That's me and you both, Jesus!" I think - but I keep stock still until I hear footsteps coming towards me and think "The game's up!"

But no. There must be another cupboard next to mine and someone's climbed into that. I wonder is it Mike the Magnet? Or maybe Sticky Steve? They both like silverware and I wouldn't put it past them. Opportunists like me, see? You've got to be in this trade.

It was neither of them. It was a priest asking me if I had anything to confess. Well, normally in these sorts of situations, I'm tighter than a clam on the seabed. You wouldn't prise my lips apart with a crowbar but suddenly, there's this strange ringing in my ears like a glorious harp sound (might be angels or something like that) and before you know it, I'm singing like a lark, spilling the beans on every crime I've ever committed. I was in that box so long, they brought the priest a cup of tea and a sandwich.

Eventually, the old priest fell asleep, which was, I thought, a bit rude but by that time, I'd run dry so I snuck out of my hidey hole, put the candlesticks back on the altar but I couldn't leave Jesus there, could I? He was resting up against the altar, looking all sorry for himself, my blood dripping down him. He spoke to me. Not actually but in a figurative sense. I felt like he should come with me and so, I tucked Him under my arm and brought Him home.

I honestly don't know what happened to me! Unless it was Jesus. I mean it was Jesus literally and I've got the egg and the scab to prove it but have I seen the light? More likely to be a concussion than divine intervention but whatever it was, it's turned me.

I'm not the man I used to be. For you Robber Bob, I'd be a bloody liability.

I'm hoping that you'll take this letter of resignation in the spirit it is meant - as a way of getting me off the hook. I'm also hoping that you'll be compassionate and considerate and not send Mad Alan the Assassin after me or my family to shut me up for good. I thought I'd give you the benefit of the doubt which the Good Lord has recently knocked into me but as a precaution, I am writing this from a hilltop casa somewhere in the Americas. Forgive me for the trust issues but whilst I'm a new man, I haven't forgotten the old ways.

And you may think this a load of old twaddle and this is just a coward's way of getting out of an old obligation but Jesus has saved me. That's the truth. Turns out that there's a big market for religious relics and He's bought me and my family a hilltop casa in the Americas.

Praise the Lord!

I would say see you in Hell but that seems unlikely now, don't it?

God bless you, Robber Bob!

The man formerly known as

Dishonest Dave

***

This is a product of not reading the challenge rules properly. A quirky, unlikely tale which I started, only to realise that it didn't fit the brief at all of Vocal's challenge but I rather liked the voice I had created and decided to bring the story out of my head in its glorious, silly totality.

And now, I share it with you.