In Rich's office on Tuesday he hung his head, tears welled in his eyes, and he said, "I have much sin. I know that I'm going to go to hell because of it. When I lay down to sleep or work in my garden it's all I can think about. What can I do to be saved?"

Trying to write something sexy but the only thing that comes to mind is my checking account. 

Every time I visit the bank I accidentally almost park in the handicapped spot because it’s faded and the parking lot is so small that I feel rushed. 

Once inside I unlock my phone and look for Jeffrey Lebowski under my contacts.  This is where I keep my bank number and my ATM card ID number.  A

fter filling out my ticket I stand in line. 

The size of my check always embarrasses me.  Going to the bank is worse than getting a physical.   

I look into the cameras and wonder if anyone’s looking back. 

I ogle the rude Indian teller.  I suspiciously admire the fat, embarrassingly pleasant Caucasian teller. 

I can’t help but imagine the manager naked, who dresses in flowered print dresses circa 1985, even though she’s among the ugliest women I have ever seen. 

Today there is a new teller.  She’s the one who asks first if she can help me. 

Josephine is in her late thirties and never looks me in the eye.  She wears cheap jewelry and a WWJD bracelet.  Above her right breast is a sticker inviting me to inquire about personal loans. 

She catches me looking and asks if I’m interested in knowing anything.  I tell her that I’m not interested in knowing anything else. 

It makes me remember all the numbers I’ve had to memorize over the years.