CHAPTER ONE
Whether you like to admit it or not, you have read the Baby-Sitters Club books at least once in your life. Come on, now, don't deny it. No one is going to throw sour cream in your face if you just come clean about. They may point and laugh, but certainly if you had to read the books in the first place, you already have experienced that a great many times.
Anyway, before you start off on your long spiel about how the Baby-Sitters Club saved your life from your wallowing misery of unpopular-ness and horrid ugliness, I just want you to know that I know the truth. Claudia, Stacey, Dawn, Abby, Mallory, Jessi, Mary-Anne, and Kristy aren't all as perfect as you thought they were. Yeah, that's right. They're COMMUNIST BASTARDS!
My tale starts with the tragic end of my childhood fantasies. I had set the baby-sitters on an untouchable pedestal, far from the corruption of so many others. They were these ethereal beings who were always a constant in my life.
That's of course until the day I joined the CIA.
I thought my job as a intelligence infiltrator was pretty sweet. Not only did I get to spy on communist bastards, I came across some pretty useful knowledge such as the highly secret recipe to KFC's popcorn chicken. My dreams had been fulfilled (lifetime supply of free popcorn chicken! Hell yes!)
But my pleasure would soon dwindle to mind-numbing agony.
On a bright, rainy morning, with the sun up and fog scattered across the mountains, I was called into the director's office, who was simply known among his staff as Kay, for the sake of homeland security. The last thing we needed in our war against communism was for that damn Osama Bin Laden to find our hidden location.
"Salutations, sir!" I greeted the aging man. He looked up from his periodical that depicted a scandalously clad woman sensually rubbing herself. He threw the magazine behind his back and I complied by acting as though I had never seen a thing. As secret agents, we were trained to do so.
"Hello, Agent," Kay returned. "You're handling of the OJ Simpson case went fairly well. I thought for a minute someone was actually on to him."
"Don't worry, sir. Everyone still doesn't know that Nicole Kidman is a sex robot from Tawiann, produced by child labor. I've made sure also that Mariah Carey was discreetly disposed of at a fat camp. That way, no one will ever know she did the voice over in Moulin Rouge. Lord knows the chaos that would create if the world were to know that bit of information!"
Kay nodded his head gravely. "I'm afraid that your next assignment will be much more dangerous." He paused hesitantly, with holding information from me. I leaned on the edge of my seat, eager for him to finish. "I also know this will demand a lot of you, emotionally."
"With all due respect sir, but I am not stripping for a grand again."
"No, of course not!" he said, holding up his hands. "Remember, that didn't happen. Anyway, we have received reports from central intelligence that implicate some people you hold dear in a world-wide conspiracy to kidnap a highly fluential leader." He paused for dramatic effect. My heart pounded against my chest cavity, fear pumping through my veins. Who was it? Who was I to bring down?
"The Baby-Sitters Club."
Whether you like to admit it or not, you have read the Baby-Sitters Club books at least once in your life. Come on, now, don't deny it. No one is going to throw sour cream in your face if you just come clean about. They may point and laugh, but certainly if you had to read the books in the first place, you already have experienced that a great many times.
Anyway, before you start off on your long spiel about how the Baby-Sitters Club saved your life from your wallowing misery of unpopular-ness and horrid ugliness, I just want you to know that I know the truth. Claudia, Stacey, Dawn, Abby, Mallory, Jessi, Mary-Anne, and Kristy aren't all as perfect as you thought they were. Yeah, that's right. They're COMMUNIST BASTARDS!
My tale starts with the tragic end of my childhood fantasies. I had set the baby-sitters on an untouchable pedestal, far from the corruption of so many others. They were these ethereal beings who were always a constant in my life.
That's of course until the day I joined the CIA.
I thought my job as a intelligence infiltrator was pretty sweet. Not only did I get to spy on communist bastards, I came across some pretty useful knowledge such as the highly secret recipe to KFC's popcorn chicken. My dreams had been fulfilled (lifetime supply of free popcorn chicken! Hell yes!)
But my pleasure would soon dwindle to mind-numbing agony.
On a bright, rainy morning, with the sun up and fog scattered across the mountains, I was called into the director's office, who was simply known among his staff as Kay, for the sake of homeland security. The last thing we needed in our war against communism was for that damn Osama Bin Laden to find our hidden location.
"Salutations, sir!" I greeted the aging man. He looked up from his periodical that depicted a scandalously clad woman sensually rubbing herself. He threw the magazine behind his back and I complied by acting as though I had never seen a thing. As secret agents, we were trained to do so.
"Hello, Agent," Kay returned. "You're handling of the OJ Simpson case went fairly well. I thought for a minute someone was actually on to him."
"Don't worry, sir. Everyone still doesn't know that Nicole Kidman is a sex robot from Tawiann, produced by child labor. I've made sure also that Mariah Carey was discreetly disposed of at a fat camp. That way, no one will ever know she did the voice over in Moulin Rouge. Lord knows the chaos that would create if the world were to know that bit of information!"
Kay nodded his head gravely. "I'm afraid that your next assignment will be much more dangerous." He paused hesitantly, with holding information from me. I leaned on the edge of my seat, eager for him to finish. "I also know this will demand a lot of you, emotionally."
"With all due respect sir, but I am not stripping for a grand again."
"No, of course not!" he said, holding up his hands. "Remember, that didn't happen. Anyway, we have received reports from central intelligence that implicate some people you hold dear in a world-wide conspiracy to kidnap a highly fluential leader." He paused for dramatic effect. My heart pounded against my chest cavity, fear pumping through my veins. Who was it? Who was I to bring down?
"The Baby-Sitters Club."