Author's Note: This is a parody of the parody by Gail Carson Levine called, "The Princess Test." "The Princess Test," is the retelling of the classic fairy tale, "The Princess and the Pea." Here I've changed the characters from, "The Princess Test," into the Avengers. This is the lightest piece of Avengers work I've ever written. Feel free to laugh or smile at my silliness.
The AVENGERS
Once upon a time, in the distinguished country of Great Britain, Sir John and Mrs. Knight had a baby girl named Emma. Miss Emma was a beautiful child with big brown eyes and a winning smile. However, she only smiled seven times and laughed thrice. Then she started crying incessantly until she was three years old.
She wailed if her food tasted the least bit suspicious, or if her mother strapped her into her little swing too tightly. She sobbed if her mother or father conspicuously reached for the pockets to remove an object. She cried every time she heard a gunshot, unless she was certain it was Sir John hunting with his comrades. She was petrified if she witnessed the cook chopping the veggies and meat with a large butcher knife that could only mean mortal danger if his fingers were caught under its sharp blade.
The first several months, Sir John and Mrs. Knight had no idea why their cute child was so clamorous. They began to pay heed to her weeping and discovered that she was merely concerned for their and her own welfare. This pleased the ignorant parents, who decided that all babies must be as considerate and intelligent as Emma.
When she was a toddler, first learning the English language, Emma began to specify what exactly was disturbing her. By the time she was eight, she was able to sincerely apologise for her outrageous behaviour. "Mother, Father, I know when I was a baby I was very naughty, crying over silly matters. But I promise to be more grownup from now on and won't complain if my porridge happens to taste like poison or if-"
"Dear, we never said that you were a nuisance!" interrupted Mrs. Knight soothingly.
"We thought you were an exceedingly smart little girl," Sir John agreed. "Does that help you feel better, darling?"
"Yes, but I have one question," began the solemn child. "What does ex-ceed-ing-ly mean?"
Emma excelled in her school studies, gaining the reputation of being the "teacher's pet." Despite her intellect, she differed from her other clever classmates, particularly the girls. While most girls were fond of dress up and playing with dolls, Emma preferred romping through the woods examining nature. Her dress up attire consisted of breeches, a sweater, and leather boots for her horseback riding lessons. When other young, wealthy ladies tried out for ballet and ballroom dancing, Emma practised her karate and kung fu.
All girls knew how to play a musical instrument except Miss Knight. The only instrument she came close to was a science instrument for conducting a chemistry experiment. In order to stay healthy and robust, proper ladies were told to take afternoon promenades in the park. Emma agreed with being outdoors, but she learned how to use firearms rather than bother with a park. It was no surprise that she was labeled as "odd," but nothing daunted Miss Knight. Nothing, except losing the relatives she loved.
When Emma was still a young schoolgirl, her mother passed away from undisclosed reasons. This was a melancholy time for the two remaining Knights, but they kept their propriety and serenity. It would not do to act otherwise! However, the loss of her mother was an acute pain that could not be hidden entirely.
Tragedy struck again when Sir John suddenly died when Emma was twenty-one. She took over his business until she fell in love with Peter Peel the pilot. The two married shortly thereafter, and Mrs. Peel, nee Knight, gained a mother figure in the form of Trudy Peel.
Trudy hid her ruthlessness and manipulations under a veneer of good manners for her daughter-in-law. She thought Emma was a pampered snob with no more common sense than a goose. Trudy had only approved the marriage for the ample dowry it provided. Thus Trudy began to plot Mrs. Peel's demise, not aware of how incredibly smart and strong the young woman really was.
The Agent Test
Chapter One
"Emma, where are you my sweet cakes?" called Trudy. She knew her spoiled daughter was up a tree, chewing complacently on an apple and reading The Mysterious World of the Atom. Mrs. Trudy Peel had many massive oaks on her extensive farm. The moment Emma had laid eyes on the quaint land, she had claimed the largest tree her own.
There she spent many days, reading science books or the stock section in the newspaper. She never grew tired of staring at the rolling acres of green, fertile pastures. Sometimes Emma wished she could spend eternity on her mother-in-law's property, instead of just the summer.
"Emma Peel, you get down here this instance, or I'll tell your husband that you're not home!" cried Trudy in exasperation.
Peter was home from his test-piloting excursion? Mrs. Emma Peel scrambled down from the tree and raced to the house in record time. It was only when she had spotted her husband that she remembered her white boots were still underneath the oak tree. Barefoot but still elegant, she approached Peter Peel.
Pilot Peter scrutinised her slender frame, which was outlined by an attractive stretch suit of white material. "Hello, my dear, how are you?"
"Ask me later." Emma swung her arms around him in a fervid embrace.
Trudy smiled sweetly, but inwardly she glowered at this blatant display of emotions. What did her simple-minded son see in that skinny woman? Aloud, she said, "Peter, I'd like to speak to you-alone."
Peter kissed his bride on the forehead and accompanied his mother to the far side of the cabbage patch. Emma gazed interestedly at them but decided not to provoke her irascible mother-in-law by following. She strained her ears to catch the dialogue but heard nothing.
"Son, I wish you'd get rid of that strange, saucy girl. I know she has plenty of money, so perhaps when the divorce is finalised you will be able to own half of her inheritance."
"Mama, I love Emma very much and will not hear of such barbarous notions."
"But I already have the divorce papers with me!" protested Trudy Peel, as she went to retrieve a file from her jacket pocket.
Emma's instincts went rampant at the slight movement, and before she could comprehend what had possessed her, she had leapt over numerous heads of cabbage and flipped Mrs. Trudy onto the ground. With equal malice, she placed her barefoot on the unsuspecting Mother Peel. "What were you going to do to Peter?" Emma demanded.
"You see why I want-" Mrs. Trudy Peel stopped in mid-sentence.
"Emma dearest, you must control these wild bursts of . . . madness," Peter began. "For as long as I've known you, every time a person simply appears distrustful, you've bounced on them like they were hired assassins! You're not a bodyguard or spy, you know."
"I don't why, but I become so cautious when a person behaves abnormally." The word was clearly an indication of what Mrs. Peel thought of her surrogate, mother. "Sometimes I wish I was a secret agent," she muttered to herself.
Peter helped his mother to her feet and then said, "I love you both very much, and while I'm testing a new plane over the next several days, I would like you to get along with each other."
"You're leaving again?" Emma exclaimed incredulously.
"It's a good job, my love, that will pay us a lot of money."
"We don't need money, Peter! I have a rather large inheritance."
Trudy spoke up in agreement, "That's right, she does!" The two women glared uncivilly at each other.
The women's convincing had no affect on the impetuous and adventurous lad. He swiftly packed the necessary items in a small suitcase, and bid farewell to his wife and mother. It was the last time they ever saw him.
A week later, Emma received the news that his plane had gone down in the Amazon jungle; there were no survivors. She mourned his lost like any diligent wife, wondering who had wanted him dead. Little did she realise that Trudy Peel blamed her for Peter's death, and that she was already plotting a way to kill Emma.
Chapter Two
In an old mansion impossible to find unless you were given instructions by the owners, the leaders of a secret organisation were conversing with the most famous agent in England. No, it wasn't James Bond; it was John Steed.
"Now that Mrs. Gale has left your partnership, you must find a new associate," began the more veteran leader, Charles.
"Since you had such a jolly good relationship with a woman, we're granting you permission to choose another female partner," added Mother, the inexperienced boss.
"Thank you, when I've found a woman to equal Cathy Gale's fine qualities, I will tell you," Steed began.
"No, you must choose a professional agent for your partner!" Charles objected.
"Only then will we be fully confident that she can do the job correctly," Mother interjected.
"Why can't I just train her as I did Mrs. Gale?" Steed insisted.
"Mrs. Gale is one in a million; you will never find another amateur as talented as she," Charles explained pragmatically.
"Therefore, we have designed a series of tests to find the perfect professional spy for you," Mother told the dubious Steed. "We will invite beautiful female agents from all over the world to compete in these tests. Whoever passes all eight will be your next partner in crime-fighting."
"Is that not a splendid proposition?" Charles asked egotistically.
Steed didn't want to offend his superiors, so he merely nodded his head; but inside, he was a jumble of emotions. Was there only one talented amateur in the world? If so, how would any of the real agents pass a series of bizarre tests?
Wanting to get away from his eccentric bosses, Steed decided to go on a horseback ride through the beautiful countryside. He saddled up a feisty mare, a robust chestnut. In a short while, his horse was trotting down the weathered paths to nowhere.
In fifteen minutes, the mare had arrived at an impressive farm. The soil was lush and fertile, the grass and plants were green, and the wooden fence that separated the farmland from the surrounding forest and horse paths was painted a sparkling white. Steed urged his horse with a light flick of the reigns to turn around, but instead the chestnut energetically galloped ahead and barely made it over the fence.
Thrown from his horse, Steed lost consciousness. When he revived, a woman in a neon pink catsuit with two silver stripes down the side, was bent over him. She had a small belt of a lighter pink resting on her waist. A small silver trinket shaped like a diamond dangled from the middle of the belt. The woman had large, brown eyes, an irresistible mouth, and gorgeous auburn hair.
"Am I in heaven?" Steed mumbled groggily as he tried to sit up.
"No, you're in the middle of Mrs. Trudy Peel's corn field." The woman gently pushed him back down. "You need to rest; I'm afraid you have a concussion."
"Oh, is that all?" Steed joked. Then he remembered what she had said. "Are you Mrs. Trudy Peel?" he asked disappointedly.
"I'm her daughter-in-law, Emma."
Dejected, Steed frowned slightly and closed his eyes. Mr. Peel's a lucky man, he thought ruefully. Suddenly, his eyes popped open as he inquired, "Where is my dear girl, Abby-my horse," he hastily added.
"I led her to the pasture to graze." Emma smiled wryly as she continued, "Now she has found paradise."
John Steed didn't want her to stop talking. He loved hearing her dulcet and intoxicating voice rippling through his ears. He loved her full lips moving as she spoke distinctly, making one dry remark after another. He pretended to be weak, to not be able to move. As he hoped, Emma Peel stayed by his side to entertain him and to make certain he did not lapse into unconsciousness again.
She spoke about farm work, how she loved to ride horses, how she enjoyed reading physics books. She told him of her late father and how she had been the chairman of the board for a while. The two exchanged tips on hunting and self-defense. They discussed the opera, automobiles, champagne, and spying.
Emma claimed that she sometimes suspected she should have been a secret agent for a living. John was beginning to whole-heartedly believe her. Finally, he admitted that he was well enough to stand. Mrs. Emma offered to drive him home, but he hurriedly refused.
She couldn't know about the secret spy hideout-not yet anyway. Slowly he made his way down the worn path, guiding Abby the horse as he trudged along.
Impulsively, Emma cried out, "I'm a widow." She should have seen Steed's smile; it stretched clear across his noble and handsome face.
Mrs. Peel wondered why she had informed him of being a widow. She was still mourning Peter's death; so trying to encourage a man was futile. However, as she walked back to the farmhouse, her mind kept wandering to the stately and mischievous man named Steed. He had made several naughty but delightful comments, like the one . . .
"Stop it Emma Peel!" she ejaculated. "You have no time for romance." She quickly sobered before going to face Trudy, the old witch.
~*~ To Be Continued ~*~
The AVENGERS
Once upon a time, in the distinguished country of Great Britain, Sir John and Mrs. Knight had a baby girl named Emma. Miss Emma was a beautiful child with big brown eyes and a winning smile. However, she only smiled seven times and laughed thrice. Then she started crying incessantly until she was three years old.
She wailed if her food tasted the least bit suspicious, or if her mother strapped her into her little swing too tightly. She sobbed if her mother or father conspicuously reached for the pockets to remove an object. She cried every time she heard a gunshot, unless she was certain it was Sir John hunting with his comrades. She was petrified if she witnessed the cook chopping the veggies and meat with a large butcher knife that could only mean mortal danger if his fingers were caught under its sharp blade.
The first several months, Sir John and Mrs. Knight had no idea why their cute child was so clamorous. They began to pay heed to her weeping and discovered that she was merely concerned for their and her own welfare. This pleased the ignorant parents, who decided that all babies must be as considerate and intelligent as Emma.
When she was a toddler, first learning the English language, Emma began to specify what exactly was disturbing her. By the time she was eight, she was able to sincerely apologise for her outrageous behaviour. "Mother, Father, I know when I was a baby I was very naughty, crying over silly matters. But I promise to be more grownup from now on and won't complain if my porridge happens to taste like poison or if-"
"Dear, we never said that you were a nuisance!" interrupted Mrs. Knight soothingly.
"We thought you were an exceedingly smart little girl," Sir John agreed. "Does that help you feel better, darling?"
"Yes, but I have one question," began the solemn child. "What does ex-ceed-ing-ly mean?"
Emma excelled in her school studies, gaining the reputation of being the "teacher's pet." Despite her intellect, she differed from her other clever classmates, particularly the girls. While most girls were fond of dress up and playing with dolls, Emma preferred romping through the woods examining nature. Her dress up attire consisted of breeches, a sweater, and leather boots for her horseback riding lessons. When other young, wealthy ladies tried out for ballet and ballroom dancing, Emma practised her karate and kung fu.
All girls knew how to play a musical instrument except Miss Knight. The only instrument she came close to was a science instrument for conducting a chemistry experiment. In order to stay healthy and robust, proper ladies were told to take afternoon promenades in the park. Emma agreed with being outdoors, but she learned how to use firearms rather than bother with a park. It was no surprise that she was labeled as "odd," but nothing daunted Miss Knight. Nothing, except losing the relatives she loved.
When Emma was still a young schoolgirl, her mother passed away from undisclosed reasons. This was a melancholy time for the two remaining Knights, but they kept their propriety and serenity. It would not do to act otherwise! However, the loss of her mother was an acute pain that could not be hidden entirely.
Tragedy struck again when Sir John suddenly died when Emma was twenty-one. She took over his business until she fell in love with Peter Peel the pilot. The two married shortly thereafter, and Mrs. Peel, nee Knight, gained a mother figure in the form of Trudy Peel.
Trudy hid her ruthlessness and manipulations under a veneer of good manners for her daughter-in-law. She thought Emma was a pampered snob with no more common sense than a goose. Trudy had only approved the marriage for the ample dowry it provided. Thus Trudy began to plot Mrs. Peel's demise, not aware of how incredibly smart and strong the young woman really was.
The Agent Test
Chapter One
"Emma, where are you my sweet cakes?" called Trudy. She knew her spoiled daughter was up a tree, chewing complacently on an apple and reading The Mysterious World of the Atom. Mrs. Trudy Peel had many massive oaks on her extensive farm. The moment Emma had laid eyes on the quaint land, she had claimed the largest tree her own.
There she spent many days, reading science books or the stock section in the newspaper. She never grew tired of staring at the rolling acres of green, fertile pastures. Sometimes Emma wished she could spend eternity on her mother-in-law's property, instead of just the summer.
"Emma Peel, you get down here this instance, or I'll tell your husband that you're not home!" cried Trudy in exasperation.
Peter was home from his test-piloting excursion? Mrs. Emma Peel scrambled down from the tree and raced to the house in record time. It was only when she had spotted her husband that she remembered her white boots were still underneath the oak tree. Barefoot but still elegant, she approached Peter Peel.
Pilot Peter scrutinised her slender frame, which was outlined by an attractive stretch suit of white material. "Hello, my dear, how are you?"
"Ask me later." Emma swung her arms around him in a fervid embrace.
Trudy smiled sweetly, but inwardly she glowered at this blatant display of emotions. What did her simple-minded son see in that skinny woman? Aloud, she said, "Peter, I'd like to speak to you-alone."
Peter kissed his bride on the forehead and accompanied his mother to the far side of the cabbage patch. Emma gazed interestedly at them but decided not to provoke her irascible mother-in-law by following. She strained her ears to catch the dialogue but heard nothing.
"Son, I wish you'd get rid of that strange, saucy girl. I know she has plenty of money, so perhaps when the divorce is finalised you will be able to own half of her inheritance."
"Mama, I love Emma very much and will not hear of such barbarous notions."
"But I already have the divorce papers with me!" protested Trudy Peel, as she went to retrieve a file from her jacket pocket.
Emma's instincts went rampant at the slight movement, and before she could comprehend what had possessed her, she had leapt over numerous heads of cabbage and flipped Mrs. Trudy onto the ground. With equal malice, she placed her barefoot on the unsuspecting Mother Peel. "What were you going to do to Peter?" Emma demanded.
"You see why I want-" Mrs. Trudy Peel stopped in mid-sentence.
"Emma dearest, you must control these wild bursts of . . . madness," Peter began. "For as long as I've known you, every time a person simply appears distrustful, you've bounced on them like they were hired assassins! You're not a bodyguard or spy, you know."
"I don't why, but I become so cautious when a person behaves abnormally." The word was clearly an indication of what Mrs. Peel thought of her surrogate, mother. "Sometimes I wish I was a secret agent," she muttered to herself.
Peter helped his mother to her feet and then said, "I love you both very much, and while I'm testing a new plane over the next several days, I would like you to get along with each other."
"You're leaving again?" Emma exclaimed incredulously.
"It's a good job, my love, that will pay us a lot of money."
"We don't need money, Peter! I have a rather large inheritance."
Trudy spoke up in agreement, "That's right, she does!" The two women glared uncivilly at each other.
The women's convincing had no affect on the impetuous and adventurous lad. He swiftly packed the necessary items in a small suitcase, and bid farewell to his wife and mother. It was the last time they ever saw him.
A week later, Emma received the news that his plane had gone down in the Amazon jungle; there were no survivors. She mourned his lost like any diligent wife, wondering who had wanted him dead. Little did she realise that Trudy Peel blamed her for Peter's death, and that she was already plotting a way to kill Emma.
Chapter Two
In an old mansion impossible to find unless you were given instructions by the owners, the leaders of a secret organisation were conversing with the most famous agent in England. No, it wasn't James Bond; it was John Steed.
"Now that Mrs. Gale has left your partnership, you must find a new associate," began the more veteran leader, Charles.
"Since you had such a jolly good relationship with a woman, we're granting you permission to choose another female partner," added Mother, the inexperienced boss.
"Thank you, when I've found a woman to equal Cathy Gale's fine qualities, I will tell you," Steed began.
"No, you must choose a professional agent for your partner!" Charles objected.
"Only then will we be fully confident that she can do the job correctly," Mother interjected.
"Why can't I just train her as I did Mrs. Gale?" Steed insisted.
"Mrs. Gale is one in a million; you will never find another amateur as talented as she," Charles explained pragmatically.
"Therefore, we have designed a series of tests to find the perfect professional spy for you," Mother told the dubious Steed. "We will invite beautiful female agents from all over the world to compete in these tests. Whoever passes all eight will be your next partner in crime-fighting."
"Is that not a splendid proposition?" Charles asked egotistically.
Steed didn't want to offend his superiors, so he merely nodded his head; but inside, he was a jumble of emotions. Was there only one talented amateur in the world? If so, how would any of the real agents pass a series of bizarre tests?
Wanting to get away from his eccentric bosses, Steed decided to go on a horseback ride through the beautiful countryside. He saddled up a feisty mare, a robust chestnut. In a short while, his horse was trotting down the weathered paths to nowhere.
In fifteen minutes, the mare had arrived at an impressive farm. The soil was lush and fertile, the grass and plants were green, and the wooden fence that separated the farmland from the surrounding forest and horse paths was painted a sparkling white. Steed urged his horse with a light flick of the reigns to turn around, but instead the chestnut energetically galloped ahead and barely made it over the fence.
Thrown from his horse, Steed lost consciousness. When he revived, a woman in a neon pink catsuit with two silver stripes down the side, was bent over him. She had a small belt of a lighter pink resting on her waist. A small silver trinket shaped like a diamond dangled from the middle of the belt. The woman had large, brown eyes, an irresistible mouth, and gorgeous auburn hair.
"Am I in heaven?" Steed mumbled groggily as he tried to sit up.
"No, you're in the middle of Mrs. Trudy Peel's corn field." The woman gently pushed him back down. "You need to rest; I'm afraid you have a concussion."
"Oh, is that all?" Steed joked. Then he remembered what she had said. "Are you Mrs. Trudy Peel?" he asked disappointedly.
"I'm her daughter-in-law, Emma."
Dejected, Steed frowned slightly and closed his eyes. Mr. Peel's a lucky man, he thought ruefully. Suddenly, his eyes popped open as he inquired, "Where is my dear girl, Abby-my horse," he hastily added.
"I led her to the pasture to graze." Emma smiled wryly as she continued, "Now she has found paradise."
John Steed didn't want her to stop talking. He loved hearing her dulcet and intoxicating voice rippling through his ears. He loved her full lips moving as she spoke distinctly, making one dry remark after another. He pretended to be weak, to not be able to move. As he hoped, Emma Peel stayed by his side to entertain him and to make certain he did not lapse into unconsciousness again.
She spoke about farm work, how she loved to ride horses, how she enjoyed reading physics books. She told him of her late father and how she had been the chairman of the board for a while. The two exchanged tips on hunting and self-defense. They discussed the opera, automobiles, champagne, and spying.
Emma claimed that she sometimes suspected she should have been a secret agent for a living. John was beginning to whole-heartedly believe her. Finally, he admitted that he was well enough to stand. Mrs. Emma offered to drive him home, but he hurriedly refused.
She couldn't know about the secret spy hideout-not yet anyway. Slowly he made his way down the worn path, guiding Abby the horse as he trudged along.
Impulsively, Emma cried out, "I'm a widow." She should have seen Steed's smile; it stretched clear across his noble and handsome face.
Mrs. Peel wondered why she had informed him of being a widow. She was still mourning Peter's death; so trying to encourage a man was futile. However, as she walked back to the farmhouse, her mind kept wandering to the stately and mischievous man named Steed. He had made several naughty but delightful comments, like the one . . .
"Stop it Emma Peel!" she ejaculated. "You have no time for romance." She quickly sobered before going to face Trudy, the old witch.
~*~ To Be Continued ~*~