Harold realized he was no longer in Bob's Burger Joint. Rita was no longer calling him her little boy. Rita's role in Harold’s dream sequence would have to wait until later, when Harold had more time to process the garbled dream sequence. There was a more pressing issue at hand, namely the boot pressing into his back by the bank robbers. He could not move, nor did he truly want to had he been given the opportunity by the armed robber stepping on his backside. He just wished he could go to sleep, wake up again and find out this had been a horrible nightmare. Even Harold, with his limited brain activity, was aware that was not an option.
"Wanna take him as a hostage?” the robber currently attached to his back shouted to the robber to Harold's left.
"Grab him!" was the response. The voice sounded like his father's voice. But that couldn't be. His father passed away seven years ago. Harold remembered the funeral, the flowers, the sermon, vividly. Harold thought his mind must be playing cruel games at a time it did not need to be playing any games at all.
"Why me?" Harold thought. “Why not the nose-ring girl? She's compact, cute and didn't smell of urine. What self-respecting bank robber in his right mind grabs an overweight hostage who has urinated on himself?”
Harold felt the crushing weight on his spine ease as the bank robber raised his boot and set it to the side of Harold. He then felt the robber grab the back collar of his shirt and yank it up. Harold didn't want to get up, but had no choice.
Harold was going to have to be a hostage.