brick

Stupid, stupid, stupid! What was I thinking, trying to make the chimney into a bong?

or you're Magilla.

Lieutenant Barris had expended every alternative.

A black 18-wheeler reversed toward the building's vestibule with skillful fluidity, hissing to a halt a comfortable yard from the glass doors. Two suited officers scuttled to the rear of the cargo hold and extended a tunnel of steel netting, locking the frame against the doorway with built-in clamps. A throaty howl rattled the hold -- then a deluge of tooth-rattling thuds.

Barris actually pitied those bastards holed up inside that bank. And as selfish as it was, he discovered pity to spare. No man was cut out for this decision, he assured himself. No man deserved it. Just forget it, man, and do your job.

He hoisted his radio.

"Gate Team, Go, Gate Team, Go."

Gate Team responded as ordered, releasing 26 Kevlar-vested silverback gorillas into the bank, each frothing one trained from birth a compulsory truth: Men with guns taste like bananas.

They shall fear him, Emilio.

Charlton Heston shrugged in resignation.

The title sequence of 1988's Young Guns *was* pretty fucked up when he thought about it.