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Strip Mall Mayhem Part 2

Could it have been Granny? It had to be. Probably still sore about what happened with Fluffanut back at D.D.G.T. I mean, I assumed she’d be mad for a while and probably wouldn’t speak to me or make me that stuffing I love at Thanksgiving time, but this was a whole new low for that little old lady I once thought to be so innocent.

Maybe I should have chased the car or at least written down the plate number. Where had my head been? I completely chickened out fearing for my life. I touched my face causing me to realize what had happed. My mustache was gone. Probably back at the employee only bathroom at Furniture Food-Machines and Farther.

What a fool I’d been. Of course I got shot at. Without a stick on mustache there was nothing to hide my identity from the public. I had done this to myself. I deserved whatever consequences came from my careless overlook. The fact was I needed another mustache. Even if it meant looking like the world’s most famous evil dictator or perhaps his cousin.

I put on the mustache, but knew I would need some sort of bullet proof body armor if I was going to carry out the rest of my mission. I found a manhole cover but when I discovered I was unable to lift it I went with the next best thing and picked up an abandoned hubcap that had been wedged between two shrubs. Wearing it as a helmet was drawing too much attention so I moved it to my chest. I buttoned up the coat and tucked my arms inside to hold the hubcap in place as I entered the store.

With the long empty sleeves swaying as I walked, plus the added fact that the coat was a bit long on my body anyways, I looked like a penguin with a Hitler mustache waddling into Foot World, so the not-getting-noticed thing was chucked out the window with a violent rage. But at least I didn’t look like my usual self and that’s all that mattered for the success of the mission.

I waddled up and down the aisles of the men’s department mumbling "Birkenstocks 13 wide" quietly under my breath as I went. My nerves were still shot from my near death experience in the parking lot, so it came as no surprise that I had a hard time keeping my cool when approached by a stranger.

“Can I help you find something sir?” I twirled around ready to take on my next attacker so fast the sleeve flew up and hit him in the face and while of course in a real self-defense situation this would have been an excellent as a surprise attack, this was not the case. He was but a mere unsuspecting Foot World employee.

“Birkenstocks 13 wide!” I yelled with a sudden burst of energy. I was losing my cool and by the look on this guys face as I shouted at him he thought I really was a penguin dictator.

“Yes sir.” He ran off and was back in a jiffy with the shoes. He refused to make eye contact and held his head low as he approached. I’d seen that look before and knew there was something he wasn’t telling me.

“Well, what is it?” I wasn’t going to play any games with him.

“Well, they only had 13 regular sir.” Just as he finished getting the words out he winced as if in preparation for me to slap him again. 13 regular would have to do. I just hoped I wouldn’t be removed from the force over such a detail.

“Thank you.” I leaned in and grabbed the elastic string connecting the two Birkenstocks, with my teeth (as my hands were still preoccupied with my protective armor) and began waddling to the checkout line. No one said this was a pretty job.

When it was my turn to pay I dropped the shoes on the counter and tried to get the sour taste of the elastic shoe string out of my mouth as they rang up my purchase. “$29.95 is your total. Will that be cash or credit?” At that moment I realized I was going to have a heck of a time retrieving my wallet which was located in my pants pocket.

Seeing no other option, I tucked my head down into the coat and tried to wiggle my wallet out of my pocket with my nose. I was successful at removing it from my pocket, but it fell and landed on my foot.

  “Um, sir?”

“Your patience is greatly appreciated and will look good on the report.” I popped my head back out of the coat to speak. It had landed square on the toes of my right foot. I had a plan, but I would need to take extra precautions to play my cards right if it was going to work. I said a quick prayer, leaned my head back and tossed the wallet up into the air with my foot in hopes of catching it with my mouth. In the blink of an eye it was over and people in line behind me began to cheer as I caught it and laid it out on the counter.

I was able to nudge the S.S.N. debit card out and have the cashier scan it. They were then kind enough to put the wallet back into my pocket before I went back out to the parking lot. As I left Foot World a couple of employees were sitting just outside the door eating sandwiches and chatting. Doesn’t sound so fishy does it? Well I didn’t think so either until I overheard a key part of the conversation.

“Do elephants always think hard?”

“Yeah eventually so.”

Now to the untrained ear this may not sound like much but what you may not realize is that this is in fact an elaborate code that I was lucky enough to catch in time. Read it again, but this time only the first letter of each word.

So in fact it was not an innocent inquiry from one coworker to the other on the status of a pachyderm’s IQ. Given that there’s always room for error, it is remotely possible I misheard them. But with my training that seems highly unlikely especially since the code was so distinct.

The real conversation happening right under the noses of innocent people really went a little something like this: “Death?” “Yes.”

When I heard this I began waddling faster to my car curious to know if these were enemy spies sent by Granny. As I tucked my head down into my overcoat to look for my car keys, my hands slipped and my protective shield began to roll away down the parking lot. I was terrified to think that Granny’s spies might seize this brief opportunity and take me down. I looked over in their direction. They hadn’t seen me. Even if they had, my disguise surely wouldn’t fail me. My hands were now free so I stuck my arms through the sleeves of the over coat and gripped the Birkenstocks like nun chucks just in case the rascals were feeling feisty.

I ducked behind cars, somersaulting and leaping with immense stealth, towards the runaway armor. I was getting close, when suddenly it rolled in front of a moving pick-up truck. As the name would suggest, pick-up trucks are good for picking things up and this person was no stranger to this fact as the bed was filled with junk. I held my breath as they stepped out and reached for the hubcap. Confrontation seemed excessive so I let them take it. They threw it into the pile and drove off.

This left me in a very tight spot but the more spying I did in my career, the easier it would be to handle these types of situations. I would simply have to rely on my ability to use leather footwear as a deadly weapon to see me through the rest of my mission. I swung the Birkenstocks around a few times as I headed back to my car, so that if Granny’s spies did see me, they would at least know what they’d be messing with.

I wasn’t going to be caught with my guard down at Fried Foods R Us so I kept the Birkenstocks with me as I entered the store, looking for a large churro and strawberry dipping sauce. Patrons around me slipped and fell every few seconds on the grease-coated tile floor, but my training was able to keep me on my feet. However this prominent safety hazard would be noted for the report. The least they could do is put down some trampolines or maybe some of those pillows from Furniture Food-Machines and Farther to make falling safer.

The crackling noise of fry oil was so loud I almost couldn’t hear myself think as I approached the churro counter. There was no one manning the station but a little bell reading ‘ring for service’. I followed the written advice and waited for someone to arrive. Glancing down at my watch a few times to make sure I wasn’t running out of time. I rang the bell again wondering if they could even hear me over the sound of the oil. When nobody came I realized I would have to take matters into my own hands. I climbed over the counter and began looking for the place they kept the churros.

I was shocked to find the employee (probably the one supposed to be working the counter) lying unconscious on the floor. As I approached I heard what sounded like loud snoring, probably coming from the mini fridge behind him. I tried to find a pulse but had great difficulty trying to feel anything through the long sleeves of the overcoat. I was taking the life of another human being into my own hands and I had to wonder what Director Ydnar would do. My instincts told me to start C.P.R. to be on the safe side.

“Ow! What are you doing?” They revived okay, but I couldn’t leave brain damage off the table. Without even so much as a thanks, he was back on his feet and fixing his apron to work the counter again. Needing resuscitated on the job wouldn’t be good for him on the report.

He told me I had to go back to the other side of the counter before I could order with a shockingly low amount of respect for the person who just saved his life. That’s the thing about the spy business, you don’t always get credit for your hard work. But I knew before I joined the S.S.N. that it wasn’t about the glory, it was about saving lives. ‘Hello My Name Is Todd’ would live to serve another churro. Particularly mine, with strawberry dipping sauce. After that, he was on his own.

As I left Fried Foods R Us I took a deep breath in preparation for the final stretch of my mission. It took everything within me not to sneak a taste of that delicious-smelling churro, but knowing Director Ydnar I knew it was but another mere test of my perseverance and my training saw me through. I glanced down at my watch and decided to put the churro and strawberry dipping sauce in one of the inside pockets on the overcoat rather than waste time going back to my car.

Stepping into Sally’s Sudsy Soaps my nose was struck with that old lady perfume smell and I knew this must be where they were getting their supply.

“Hi I’m Sally!” I was startled by the automated video billboard sitting in front of me. “Welcome to Sally’s Sudsy Soaps, where we make all of your bubbliest dreams come true!” If there’s one thing my life as an S.S.N. agent has taught me, it’s never to trust an overly-cheery sales representative. I’d have to keep my eye on this woman or one of the many billboards with her sappy smile on it.

It was like being transported into another world. I had to wonder what I’d gotten myself into the further I went. I was beginning to question if I’d ever make it home. The colors. So many colors. And the glitter. It was everywhere. I was completely surrounded. I’m not even going to mention all the different smells. No sir, I’m not even going to talk about the mass homicide happening in my sinuses. It was by far one of the greatest tests I’ve ever had to endure as an agent.

“Hi I’m Sally!” I was expecting to see another billboard but I turned to face sally herself. She looked bigger on TV. “What can I help you with today?” She had the smell of an enemy agent. Or maybe it was mango sunshine?

“I’m looking for fancy lavender soap stuff.”

“Are you sure? With your body chemistry you seem like more of a...”She paused and sniffed the air in front of me. “...rosewater type to me.” These were strange confusion tactics but cleverly effective.

“Positive.”

She disappeared into the foggy cloud of perfumed air and returned only a moment later with a big basket full of assorted lavender scented products. “We always insist you try them here before purchasing for your complete satisfaction.” But if that was the case than why didn’t people just shower here and save themselves the trouble of paying for anything? I was suspicious, but didn’t want to let on, I played along but I wasn’t going to risk touching any of the products she had brought in her suspicious little basket.

“Very well, I’ll try that one.” I pointed to a little squeezey bottle that said ‘gingerbread cookie’ on the front. I was still hungry from smelling the churro and since Granny wasn’t going to be baking me cookies anytime soon, I figured this was the next best thing. I wasn’t going to risk letting her touch it (never can be too careful in the spy business you know) so I quickly scooped it up and squeezed good amount onto my fingers. The look of panic in her eyes just before I popped it into my mouth was a good sign, if the enemy agent was unhappy with my choice, than I had chosen well.

The moment it touched my tongue however, I knew I had made a grave mistake. It tasted like dirt and any of the other times I’ve ingested poison, it tasted like dirt. They were already one step ahead and I had fallen right into her trap. I began to feel woozy and stumbled backwards. "Remember your training" I thought to myself. I just had to fight back the affects of the poison. I started to feel dizzy and feverish, the next thing I knew it was too late. I had blacked out. I had been poisoned to death.






Next Chapter: Strip Mall Mayhem Part 3