Sunday, January 07, 2007

The Continuing Adventures of Secret Agent LeFlüffe

A distraught woman walked into a café and was directed to a booth in the back where a tall, dark, and handsome man sat hunched on the table pushing some grated cheese around with his nose.

"Are you..." she began in a ridiculously breathy voice, "Secret Agent LeFlüffe?"

"YA BEBBE!" came the answer from underneath a placemat, where LeFlüffe's head currently was. "But don't spread it around, y'know, it's a secret, bebbe."

The woman sat down and quickly stood up again to brush the muffin crumbs off the seat. As she sat a second time, LeFlüffe reached a strong arm out from under the placemat and swiped at the tissue in her hand. "You don't need that, bebbe," he said reassuringly, "You go get into bed, I'll be up there in a minute."

"But...a terrible wrong has been done!" the woman told Secret Agent LeFlüffe, whose eyes went all wide and googly at this news.

"They put the drugs in the milks?" LeFlüffe asked.

The woman shook her head. "No, no, my husband, the scientist Roger Roget, has been taken prisoner by a shadow government agency!"

"What do I do for that?" LeFlüffe asked her.

"I...I thought you could help rescue him."

LeFlüffe thought this over. "Oh, ya, ya, I could do that. Ya. You wanna get into bed?"

The woman shrugged. "Okay."

Secret Agent LeFlüffe jumped off the table and sprinted up the stairs. "That's more like it, bebbe!"

The bartender watched LeFlüffe and the woman playing smackies through the railing, and said to a drunken customer, "There goes Secret Agent LeFlüffe, the hottest damn special operative this side of the turnpike; he'll die like he lives: in bed, surrounded by women."

The drunken customer puked all over the bar in amazement.

Secret Agent LeFlüffe could be heard yelling, "Put on the flannel nightie!" from the room at the top of the stairs as he pushed a lamp out the window.


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