“Oh, you had enough to make the withdrawal, but taking it all left nothing in your account. An ATM cannot close out an account, so a three-dollar service fee was charged automatically. Since you did not have overdraft protection, this left you three dollars in arrears. And, as per policy, any negative balance can be collected by the bank in the manner it deems most appropriate.”

“Three bucks?” Dennis took out his wallet. “Here you go.”

The loan officer chuckled. “That’s not how it works, Mr. Whittaker. You know that. I just told you, as set forth in your terms and conditions, which you apparently did not take the time to read, the bank has the legal right to recover the amount it is owed by what it determines is the most efficacious means. In this instance, that means confiscating your vehicle, selling it at auction, collecting the three smackeroos, plus a reasonable processing and transfer fee, and then recompensing the remainder to you.”

“You can’t do that!” he yelled.

“Oh, but we can.”

A crowd had gathered by this time, curious about the ruckus, and Dennis was humiliated to see that Claire was among those in the front. There was nothing he could do that wouldn’t make him look weak or foolish. He could try to fight and get bogged down in an endless shouting match—probably one in which he would be the only person yelling—or he could give up, and either start walking home or beg for a ride from a fellow parishioner.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he jumped, startled. It was Pastor Peters. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t like being a part of this—”

Dennis turned on him. “Then why are you? You come up to me after church and tell me that someone from the bank told you to tell me that they were stealing my car? What is that? And when did they tell you? Before church started?” He pulled away. “You could’ve given me a heads up instead of just acting like their lackey and humiliating me in front of your whole congregation.”

The loan officer moved next to Pastor Peters. Dennis saw the preacher flinch as the other man flanked him. It was the banker who spoke first. “You know, pastor,” he said. “I’m not a religious man, but there’s always been something I wondered about.”

“Yes?” the preacher said warily.

“How did the world get populated? There was Adam and Eve, right? And they had two boys.”

“Cain and Abel.”

“Right, right. Well, either the brothers fucked their mom, or Adam and Eve had daughters and the brothers fucked their sisters. I mean, there’s no other way it could have worked, am I right?”

The pastor did not reply.

“Then, to expand the population, the brothers probably fucked their own daughters, or Adam fucked their daughters, or…”

“That’s enough!”