Secret Agent’s occasionally require R&R to release
the pressure of trying to save the planet and other impossible missions.
Today my assignment should I choose to accept it, will be to empty the puddles which will probably take all day.
I cite the present downpour.
My back-up cell phone galoshes are hidden in the spine of my briefcase in case I get in over my head.
Brisk trades press against me as I step out into the chill 78-degree air, middle-aged pinky hoisted high to test for squalls then belly flop into the big pond like a hippo wearing a tutu, causing a tidal wave to be unleashed.
That pond being the first puddle on my list.
I ignore the South American Pacu who seems distressed and note that there may be some fish fallout.
I have disguised myself in a favorite pair of striped green PJ’s complete with a khaki swim cap and yellow galoshes. So am invisible to them.
The chief takes notes, as he watches from above.
Several hours pass, and I am still stressed-out.
I persist with the debriefing until nightfall, skipping lunch and happy hour
until Agent 99 comes and drags my weary ass inside.
Marching me upstairs to a bubbling hot tub
where my face and fingers can cavort in the wet wind.
Research tomorrows mission on how and when to spy on the neighbor’s cats.
Corney Press 