I remember being particularly punctual on the morning of my next mission. I timed my steps leading up to Director Ydnar’s office, down to the very second. Something about my snazzy new overcoat changed me for the better, as everything I did from then on, I did with astounding accuracy. He slammed down a stack of papers in front of me as I awaited my debriefing.

“Where’s Chris?” Director Ydnar asked one of my colleges, pointing to an empty chair.

“He didn’t make it, sir.” The harsh realities of what had happened to poor old Christopher washed over my mind. I knew it wasn’t like him to be late. Not on a Tuesday and especially not without his famous tuna-noodle casserole. I would miss that casserole and the brave man who made it. My grieving mind must have been playing tricks on me as I could almost still smell the fishy odor lingering in the air like a ghost of the past. But part of being a spy is being able to carry on, regardless of the casualties around you, so I took my folder and prepared to go back out into the field.

My mission was one butternut squash and a 6oz tub of grind-your-own almond butter from Healthy Monkey, a popular chain store. I pulled into the parking lot and slapped on my stick-on mustache for the day. Director Ydnar had been kind enough to commission me with mustaches that better matched my natural hair color and were more hypoallergenic to avoid another mustache shaped rash. I then tore a second mustache in half and put the pieces on my forehead, to make a convincing pair of eyebrows. I was impressed looking in the review mirror at how expressive they made me look.

The mission wasn’t exactly off to a good start. The cart I grabbed (which was the only one left in the cart return) had a faulty front wheel that seemed to have a mind of its own, making it difficult to steer. After a few good tries to get in the door that all ended in crashing, I was finally able to aim for the doors by running full speed ahead with my head tucked down in an arrow dynamic position. The problem however was that the door didn’t budge. I went flying into the air, landing with my feet sticking up in the basket of the cart, face to face with a little sign reading ‘Pull Here’. I checked on my mustache which had fortunately sustained minimal damage.

I readjusted myself in the cart and scooted close enough to the door that I could reach the handle. I noticed that my brief moment of scooting had produced a much smoother ride than pushing the cart had. I won’t bore you with the science behind it, but some quick calculations told me that sitting in the basket and distributing my weight counteracted the faulty wheel. I decided not to take this discovery for granted and continued to scoot the cart as I entered the building. The doors opened up to the bakery section and I was able to grab a stale baguette from the day-old-clearance rack, to use as an oar.

As I rowed my way to the produce section I noticed every item was labeled with the same plain-looking, brown "Healthy Monkey Certified Non-GMO" label, making it difficult to distinguish one product from another. The produce section was well stocked. Some above-and-beyond employee had even taken the time to stack the baby spinach to look like the Eifel tower, the pineapples to look like the Statue of Liberty, the beets to look like Taj Mahal and the rhubarb to look like a snazzy rendition of the Great Pyramids, complete with sphinx. Under normal circumstances, nothing and I mean nothing would make me prouder as an S.S.N. agent than an over-performing employee but their odd choice in sculpting subjects told my instincts something different this time. Whoever this employee was, they were completely bent on world domination. I had to wonder if they weren’t a D.O.G.W.A.L.K.E.R. agent. I would need to lure them out and identify them.

I rolled to the butternut squash and put one in the cart’s child seat, I then strapped little ‘Jr.’ in, with the safety belts provided. Never can be too careful in the spy business you know. I ran my baguette/oar along a low shelf lined with boxes of cornflakes, knocking them to the floor. “Clean-up on aisle three!” I shouted, as I moved on to a shelf of gluten-free, animal shaped crackers.

It didn’t take long before an employee came around the corner wearing a plain-looking, brown Healthy Monkey apron and sporting not only a name tag that read ‘Loiyd’ but also an array of geographical pins. I knew based on the evidence, that he was the guy seeking world domination, no matter how much trouble he may have achieving it with a name like ‘Loiyd’. He met my gaze as I knocked the last box onto the floor, sliding it to his feet with the baguette. I held my position and continued eye contact until he chose to respond.

“Having fun?” I was but he didn’t need to know that.

“I am but a mere customer, my good man and I’m looking for an excellent shopping experience at this fine Healthy Monkey location.” My suspicions were undeniable, but I still needed to hear the words come from Loiyd himself, so I prompted him. “Lovely sculptures you’ve got here.” He hurried in front of me as I rolled back towards them. He got between me and Lady-Pineapple-Liberty and flashed a smile.

“I make food sculptures on my lunch breaks.” Yet another fishy thing about his character: Admitting to using his lunch breaks for other purposes than eating lunch. “It’s just a hobby of mine.” He felt the need to fill the silence as I tried to stare him down.

“Yes, we all must have our hobbies, mustn’t we?” I backed up my cart and began to steer around Loiyd towards the Rhubarb-Pyramids but he was careful to keep himself as a barrier.

“You know, we have a great sale on jarred hummus on aisle twelve.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” I was circling around him and the produce tables like a shark, ready to attack at any moment, never breaking my gaze. Loiyd was brave, I’ll give him that. I guess one would have to be if one was bent on world domination. I hear it’s risky business these days.

“Loiyd what’s taking you so-”Another employee was walking over but froze when she saw I had him trapped. “Are you okay?” She whispered to him, as though I couldn’t hear. “Do you want me to call Cindy?” So maybe Loiyd wasn’t the ring leader of all this. From the sound of it, this ‘Cindy’ person was the head honcho. Loiyd was just a puppet.

Loiyd slowly nodded in her direction and whispered back. “I wasn’t trained for this.” This sort of lingo made it more believable that this particular Healthy Monkey location had been taken over by the D.O.G.W.A.L.K.E.R. agency. They were brining in backup and I had to think fast. At least they didn’t know my true identity. As long as I was subtle enough they would never be able to figure it out.

For some reason when they said Cindy I had been expecting some mild mannered (for a dictator) woman in her mid forties but the Cindy that showed up was a large man who seemed much more fitting for the world-domination type.

“Get out of there Loiyd, I will take care of this.” He spoke with a heavy German accent and a slight lisp. I lifted the baguette like a sword as he approached and Loiyd ran off to be comforted by the girl employee. “What can I help you with today sir?” He tightened the strings on his apron.

“I was just enjoying the scenery.”

“Are you a Healthy Monkey banana rewards member?”

“Say what now?”

“With every seventh purchase at any participating Healthy Monkey location, you get a free banana.” He ripped one off from a nearby bunch (in what was obviously a display of brute strength intended to intimidate me) and handed me a banana. It was ripe but not overripe, just the way I like it. They took good care of their bananas at Healthy Monkey and would receive credit for it on the report. They may have been overrun by human scum, but a good banana is a good banana.

“Thank you, you’ve been most helpful, Cindy.” I was nearly positive they had no idea who I was but I’d been poisoned before and wasn’t going to risk eating the banana. Instead I made the speedy decision to put it in my overcoat and take it back to H.Q. for analysis. Hopefully by observing the poison the D.O.G.W.A.L.K.E.R. agency used we could begin developing an antidote for S.S.N. field agents to keep on hand.

Cindy looked down at the squash in my cart and then back over to me. “Is there anything else I can help you find today.” Sure, I’d play along.

“As a matter of fact, Cindy, I need a 4oz tub of grind-your-own peanut butter.” What I really needed was a 6oz tub of grind-your-own almond butter, but I wasn’t going to risk letting him have that particular piece of delicate information. I figured the grind-your-own peanut butter and the grind-your-own almond butter would be in the same general area, so if he followed me I could distract him with the peanut butter whilst sneakily grinding some almonds. “I’ll take it from here.” I began rolling away when he grabbed the cart to stop me.

“Please, allow me.” He grabbed hold of the handle with his beef-patty hands and began pushing the cart. He was onto me.

“Oh, thank you very much.” I’ll admit it that somewhere deep down inside I was nervous, but I never let on. I simply had to get comfy and use my stale baguette as protection if necessary. I gripped it tight, remembering the bo staff skills I learned from a martial arts magazine in a doctor’s office waiting room a while back.

The eerie sound of Cindy’s heavy footsteps and his apron strings slapping against the cart was ringing in my ears as I wondered if I was being wheeled to my doom. I realized when I joined the S.S.N. that I would probably die out on the field but quite frankly a demise at the hands of a Healthy Monkey manager named Cindy didn’t sound as heroic as what I had initially envisioned. I’d always thought it would be more along the lines of an epic duel between me and a deli slicer named Gordo, flinging salami and getting diced into sandwich sized pieces by a meat slicer. Or even in a massive explosion after I fought it out with a raging enemy agent on the cleaning supply aisle when the shelf got knocked over and the chemicals mixed, forming a deadly cocktail.

“Here you are.” He pushed me in front of the grinding machines.

“Thank you, I’ll take it from here.” I stretched out the baguette as far as it would reach and tried to knock a plastic tub loose.

“Allow me.” I was growing a strong distaste for the phrase. He grabbed a 4oz tub and turned on the peanut grinding machine. He had an excellent memory; I’d give him that for the report.

“Oh, thank you.” While he was distracted by the loud machine, I rowed the cart just close enough that I could reach a 6oz tub and hook it on the end of the baguette, glancing back casually every few seconds to make sure I wasn’t spotted. I then used the stale bread to gently set the tub under the spout on the almond grinding machine. The button wasn’t budging with the baguette, so I had to move closer and do it by hand. Immediately after it was on however I had to row back into position quickly (and not as stealthily as I would have under ideal circumstances) when good old Lyoid spotted me as he restocked one of the shelves. Oddly enough he didn’t rat me out when he saw me but instead left, rather quickly I might add. With the speed he was making he was no doubt heading for the bathroom or somewhere of equal importance.

Suddenly the loud mechanical noise of nuts being mutilated into a paste completely stopped. “You stupid machine!” Cindy began pounding on the poor devil with his fists. He crawled behind the machine (which was large enough to block him completely from my view) and began to tinker.

In only a minute or so, the almond grinder was working again but he stayed behind and continued to fiddle in an attempt to get the peanut side going again. This was my chance. The almond butter was grinding again and the tub was nearly full. I got close enough to grab a lid, and prepared to slap it on the tub the very second it was full and make a dash for it. For the next few seconds I continued to ready myself and double checked to make sure the butternut squash was buckled in. It was going to be a bumpy ride.

The moment came. I slapped that lid on with a sudden burst of adrenaline, tucked it into my snazzy overcoat and then began to row faster than I’ve ever rowed before. “Hey! You forgot your peanut butter!” He grabbed the only half full peanut butter tub and began to chase me. I weaved in and out of aisles, narrowly avoiding a few collisions with other customers. Cindy must have realized he was no match for me on foot. I thought I’d lost him when he disappeared behind me, only to reaper a moment later on a motorized scooter cart and boy howdy, was that thing moving.

I thought for sure my arms would give out any minute and if not my arms, the stale baguette could snap at any moment. My cart nearly tipped onto its side as I made a sharp turn down the vitamin supplement aisle, with Cindy still close behind. I made a right, back into the produce section and nearly rammed into Loiyd, who narrowly escaped while putting some finishing touches on his beet Taj Mahal. I swerved past the frozen food aisle, chills running down my spine as the refrigerated air blasted my face.

I couldn’t believe I still hadn’t lost him. Anyone shy of superhuman would have given up by now. I made it back towards the front of the store, but he was so close I could have reached back and touched him. It was a final effort, seeing no other way out I drove onto a ramp shaped energy bar display and went crashing though a table of oils. I was able to get away, with Cindy sliding through the oil slick and flying down a long aisle towards the back of the store.

I could see the exits up ahead and just when I thought I’d made it, the baguette snapped in half, rendering it completely useless as an oar. I leapt out of the cart and unbuckled the butternut squash. I tucked it under my arm like a football and grabbed the shopping cart handle. I closed my eyes and let out a yell as I charged towards the door. The wheel was now haywire again without my dispersed weight over it and it jerked the cart out of my hands. I opened my eyes to see it spinning out of control in front of me. It went flying into the doors, forcing them open in front me as I barley squeezed through. It had been such an emergency, I wasn’t even been able to use the checkout and would have to send reimbursement through the mail.

I got to my car, started the engine and squealed out of the parking lot with the butternut squash and the almond butter buckled up in the passenger’s seat next to me. I had done it. I had not only survived another day in the field but also managed to complete my mission and report back to H.Q. with valuable information pertaining to intended world domination and the D.O.G.W.A.L.K.E.R. agency’s choice in poison.

It was a job well done, and a Tuesday well spent.

Next Chapter: Animal Wise-Crack Part 1