He was in the bank, when the thugs came in. They fired and asked for money, and he fired back. The stand-off went on for sometime, at the end of which he won. He was about to kill the last one when his dad called him. “Let’s go son.” said his father. “Work’s done. We’ll come back to the bank next week.”
And as he got up from the bench and moved towards the door, holding on to his toy Robocop, walking as fast as he could with his little feet and glow in the dark shoes, he smiled. He had saved the day, even though it was in one of his daydreams.