The note read, "My mouth is full of bees. Fill the briefcase with cash. No alarms." The teller looked up. The woman's cheeks did look rather... puffy. Not ballooned outward, like she was holding her breath, just... big. Like she'd been interrupted in the middle of chewing a big bite of steak.

He ran his finger under the counter to the silent alarm. He didn't push it, he only touched it, ran his fingers around the outside. Just to make sure he knew where it was.

She was looking at him. Her eyes flicked to her briefcase, now on the counter, then back to him. He wondered if there were really bees in her mouth. She couldn't possibly. They'd sting her a hundred times and she'd die or something. At least she'd scream, and they'd fly away. Or maybe they've all suffocated, and she's standing there with a mouth full of dead bees.

He wasn't sure which was worse. A mouth full of live, angry bees, or a mouth full of dead ones. Or someone crazy enough to make the threat, real or not.

The teller filled the suitcase. As she walked out of the bank, he sighed in relief.