The ASSassin
It was the only way to go. The only way to beat the Imperial Chicken Master (ICM) was to kill him. Who was that the job for? Bond. Tamble Bond. 0-0-11, License to chill. Well, it turned out that the ICM was in town for a meeting tomorrow. Seems perfect, except for the ambiguous service.
"My sunglasses are too dark, Jeff. Jeff, I can't see." said the outrageously sexy Tamble.
"Sorry Mr. Bond, Sir. I will make them lighter." answered his hideous in comparison secretary.
"Okay. Good. I want to get down to business now. How are we going to kill the ICM?"
"With a gun?" The nervous man asked.
"No. Too traditional. I was thinking of a tribal African war spear."
"Nice one, sir."
"Naturally."
They had arrived at the scene with the spear disguised as a pike. The made their way in, but the guard stopped them.
"What's that?" He demanded.
"A pike." Tamble coolly replied.
"No pikes allowed." He glared.
- - To be Continued. - -