XXXX
"Damnit, 007, you can't quit!" M protested.
M was chastising her number one spy, James Bond, in her office in MI-6 headquarters, London, England.
Bond shook his head. "M, I'm sorry, but this is something I have to do. I have to follow my dreams, no matter what I must sacrifice along the way."
"Bond, your dreams are infantile and stupid. You already have one of the coolest jobs in the world -- international spy! Hell, remember that time you went to space?"
A faraway look appeared in Bond's eye. "That was a long time ago, M. A long time indeed. And while space was pretty awesome, it didn't have any cattle."
"Cattle?" M asked, puzzled. "What the bloody hell does cattle have to do with anything?"
Bond put his hands on M's shoulders. "M...it's always been my dream to be a cattle rancher."
"...Since fucking when?"
"Well, I saw a really cool cowboy movie on AMC last night, and now I want to run off to Montana and be a cattle farmer."
M rubbed the bridge of her nose. "You know what? Fine. Fuck it. Get the hell out of here, Bond, and don't you come back."
XXXX
Montana, today...
XXXX
James nervously held the authentic twenty-gallon cowboy hat he had won from the State Fair in his hands as the veterinarian examined the young calf.
"Well, Jimmy, I can't rightly say what's wrong with this young heifer...what do you feed it?" Dr. Yes asked.
"Uh...feed it?"
The vet stared hard at James. "...Please tell me you feed your cattle."
"I thought they just ate grass and shit."
"Jesus fucking wept," the vet said. "Come here, let me show you something." He took James by the arm and dragged him out of the barn.
"Look at that. Tell me what you see."
"Uh...the rugged west?"
"DESERT! THIS IS A FUCKING DESERT! THERE AREN'T ANY FIELDS FOR YOUR CATTLE TO GRAZE ON!"
"Um. Is this important? Should I write it down?"
"How the HELL did you keep cattle for six years and NOT KNOW THIS?"
James shrugged. "Whenever they all died, I just burned their bodies and bought new cows."
Yes' forehead began throbbing -- it seemed a vein was getting ready to burst. "Burned their -- BOUGHT NEW COWS?" The vet retreated back into the barn, coming back out after a few minutes with the young calf hoisted over his shoulders. Panting, he made his way to his pickup truck and gently sat the calf in the back. He turned back to James. "Listen the fuck up, Bond. If I ever hear that you've gone within 100 feet of a cow ever again, I will concoct an elaborate plan to destroy you." The vet got into the pickup and roared out of James' farm, the calf bleating in terror all the while.
"He...he took her...he took Bess the 13th!" James began sobbing uncontrollably.
XXXX
That night, James sat on the couch, several empty pint-sized containers of ice cream and wadded-up tissues littering the floor around him, another half-empty (and getting emptier every spoonful) pint sat in his lap. He was watching Cowpokes of Cattle Country, a true classic in which the hero managed to gun down enough Indians and Mexicans to save the cattle ranch supporting his family.
As the credits began to roll, James' eyes widened in revelation. "Of COURSE! I should have seen it all along! Dr. Yes is a cattle rustler!" He pulled out his six-shooter. "I have to go get that dirty varmint!"
Before he could leave the house, though, the phone began to ring. He picked it up. "Tarnation, this is James Bond, the meanest cowboy who ever lived! What the hell do you want?"
"Bond, it's M. We have to talk."
"Tarnation, M, I'm all riled up and I have to go shoot some varmint who done rustled my cattle!"
M's sigh was audible through the earpiece. "Are you drunk, Bond, or did one of your cows kick you in the head?"
James' tough exterior cracked, and he began sobbing again. "The veterinarian took my last cow, M. I'm so lonely."
"...James, a helicopter will be there in ten minutes. We need to talk."
"Will there be ice cream? Mint chocolate chip's my favorite."
"...Yeah, fine. There'll be ice cream. Just get on the damn helicopter."
XXXX
The helicopter had taken him to a nondescript office building in Helena, where a pint of mint chocolate chip was waiting for him. A man met him on the helipad, shouting "FOLLOW ME!" above the sound of the rotors.
"ICE CREAM?" James asked.
"FOLLOW ME!" the man repeated, turning before the idiot could go on.
He left James to wait in an empty conference room -- no ice cream in sight. Finally, after nearly ten minutes, M came into the room.
"M, you promised there'd be ice cream!" he shouted upon seeing her.
"Too bad, I lied." She clicked a remote control, causing a projector mounted to the ceiling to turn on and begin projecting against the far wall.
The first picture showed a ruggedly handsome blonde man in a tuxedo. "This is your replacement, James Bond."
"What's his name?"
"James Bond."
"Yes, I know my name, but what's his name?"
"James Bond!" M insisted.
James shook his head. "M, it's clearly not James Bond. I'm the only James Bond who ever existed."
"...Yes, of course you were." M avoided looking directly at James.
"...M, you lied about the ice cream. Are you lying about this, too?"
"Look, James, every time a James Bond is killed in action, we just get a new guy and slap the name 'James Bond' on him. This never came up before since all the previous Bonds had the good sense to never retire."
"And so what, you're here to show me how this guy is so much better than me?" James asked, pouting.
"Yes, actually!" M said with a big smile.
And so for the next hour, James quietly wept as M showed the blonde Bond's successes: shutting down terror cells in fourteen countries, averting ninety-two nuclear incidents, and capturing Osama Bin Laden.
"To be quite frank, James, the man's nearly eradicated terrorism altogether. And that's the problem."
"Huh?" James asked intelligently.
"MI-6 is almost out of business! I'm only qualified to run intelligence agencies! Do you think an old woman like me can get any other job in this economy?"
"Well, I hear people on the Internet are really kinky these days..." James began.
"No, James. I want you to come back to MI-6."
"Cool! So me and this other Bond can team up?"
M stared at Bond for a moment, then slowly shook her head. "No, James. You are to kill him. There can be only one James Bond, and it must be you."
XXXXXXXXXX
Welcome to the reboot of a classic fic series that a handful of people read! The JB Series (as it was called back then) was a fast-paced comedic farce which lampooned James Bond and a wide variety of other media. My friend Kail and I worked on fics in the series for years, but eventually our interest waned.
But then, one day, my interest de-waned! And so I decided to reboot the series. We meticulously planned out the last series in excruciating detail, and I'm already casting my mind forward to what the second story (not chapter!) will have in store for our intrepid spy.