shoe phone?! that's just crazy...

This wasn't Agent420's first deep cover operation. His first tour of duty had brought a younger and blonder version of the same hard-nosed government spy to various third world countries. Although the work was highly classified and the leads remained vague he had somehow managed to make a livable situation out of his environment. Selling Chiclets to American tourists didn't do much for his ego, afterall, he had been trained for 18 months in the underground lair of Agent00Bevan and knew how to kill a man with his pinky toe. His life now had a purpose... to serve the asinine details of a government that would never admit that he existed. Soon Agent420 grew tired of the Sun scorched puffy pink skin of these swollen American tourists. He was an American... living the life of a gypsy vagrant only made his Vulcan blood boil (a sensation he had not felt since the age of 14 while delivering goods for the infamous ORANGE-LILAC POT SMUGGLING RING). His requests for transfer were ignored for months. The Agent felt alone. His life in the field was not as glamorous as his mentor had said it would be. At the end of every steamy Puerto Rican afternoon he would sit within the small confines of his apartment and stare at his "shoe phone".... desperately waiting for the organization to make contact. "What the hell is the point of selling these damn bits of gum anyway?" he thought to himself, "They don't taste any different than the other colors and they flavor lasts for about 53 and 1/2 chews... hell, I wouldn't pay a quarter for this shit! Why can't I sell American gum like FRUIT STRIPE?!"

Agent420's following mission would be a welcome change from his year tour of street vending. His bride to be was a double agent who's cover had been blown. She had worked for the "other side" during the decade known as the "Kellogg's Post Cold-War." Her cover had been as a Flamenco dancer... a prized position in the industry and much more glamorous than a street vendor selling small bits of gum to sunburned douches from Chicago. Agent420 had been lucky enough to read her dossier before the wedding had been announced. His wife had never made mention of being a dancer... and the secret was eating away at his insides.
"Should I tell her that I know her secret?" he pondered while stuffing his mouth with a sizeable crab cake. He watched his new wife in amazement. Her beauty seemed to stun the entire crowd... either that or the brownish toxic gas that had been pumped into the room.
"She's good," he said with a smile. But then he realized that the entire wedding party was out cold. The reception hall was silent, with an exception of his new wife's shoe's clacking against the cold hard linoleum.
"I wonder if she can cook?" he laughed. He threw a crab cake against the wall with a resounding squish and walked across the sea of bodies. The Agent grabbed his wife to be by the waist and began to follow her sultry Flamenco dance around the center of the room.
"Kiss me you boob," his new wife said as she looked into his eye.
"You want me to kiss your boob?" he asked. Their life as the ultimate husband and wife "spy team" had gotten off to a rocky start... but they would always have their love of crabcakes.

(congrats, you guys! I wish I were there. Love, Bev and CC)