Banana Banditos

The two men screeched to a stop. Sweaty and with flecks of red on their boots. They pique their ears and listen for the tintinnabulation of standard-issue police boots in pursuit. Nothing. They're in the clear. The heist went off without a hitch.

"What a haul," one of the outlaws belched through the Nixon mask.

"Goodbye, potassium deficiency," the other smirked and fingered through the pilfered goods.

"This is gonna change everything. It'll be different this time. I'll walk the line. Settle down. Maybe even reconnect with my estranged daugh - "

The other masked man stuck his finger in the air. A layer of frost glazed over his spine.

"You hear that?"

In the distance: sirens fast approaching.

"Goddamn it, the peels were marked!" snarled the potassium-deficient man.

"Quick! Eat the evidence."

His companion had already begun to shove the ransacked plunder into his maw.

"I'm not going back inside, man."

Nixon just kept shoveling it in. He closed his eyes and could hear the soft murmur of Zihuatanejo surf recede away. Replaced with the garish sounds of helicopter props bearing down on their location.