Marvin is assigned to drive the Doughnut Factory delivery truck this morning. Then he’s to stop at the bank and pickup the week’s payroll.

Marvin leaves the bank with a canvas money-bag in hand. As he hops back into the truck, there’s a young punk with a gun in the passenger seat. "Gimme the money and start driving," says the punk.

Lucky for Marvin, one of his customers leaves the bank just behind him and sees the guy in the truck. He calls 911. Good work, dude!

Meanwhile, Punk directs Marvin to take a road leading out of town. Now the doughnut truck is on a rural road where Marvin fears "they’ll never find me."

Again Punk orders Marvin to turn — this time onto a two-rut road into the woods. Some two miles down the road they come to a pickup truck stopped in a clearing. Two rough- looking guys are waiting.

"Pull up here and stay in the truck," Punk orders. Marvin does as he’s told. Punk jumps out of the doughnut truck, runs over to his buddies as they yell with glee over their newfound wealth.

That’s when an eerie sound pierces the woodland silence. "Cops!" Punk yells as sirens begin to close in. The three punks are confused. "How did they find us?" Punk asks.

Meanwhile, Marvin takes advantage of the distraction, leaps out of the truck and runs as fast into the woods as his legs will carry him.

No shots are fired as the teen-aged gang surrenders. It takes a few minutes, but the police — using a bull horn — talk Marvin out of hiding. "It’s okay, Marvin, everything’s under control."

As Marvin walks into the clearing, Sergeant Blain pats him on the back and shakes his hand. "That was pretty smart, son, dropping doughnuts out of the truck, leaving a trail for us to follow. It worked better than Hansel and Gretel because the birds didn’t get to eat your trail signs."