Disclaimer: we do not own James Bond. We do not wish to own James Bond. We do not wish to place that curse upon him. He'd meet his demise quickly. David Bowie on the other hand...
Chapitre Deux
On my way to catch the subway, I bought a newspaper at one of the many little newsstands that sell the National UK InquirerThe front page had an astonishing (but not to me) headline--David Bowie had been abducted! (page 17) Ptah, I thought, they haven't even begun to unearth that his daughter had been abducted and replaced with a Monocan midget. How sad. I tossed the tabloid into the nearest garbage can.
The subway ride was short. I kept a falcon's eye on the briefcase. The briefcase that I had switched.
Yes, indeed. It was the attaché case of Mr. Bond. In it were the important papers concerning David Bowie. And by important papers, I do not mean, sanitary napkins or the National UK Inquirer. I mean state papers.
I got a call from him--just as I was expecting, mind you--as I was leaving the subway. Calls certainly cannot be permitted on the subway, you know, even from James Bond: we wouldn't want any more repeat terrorist attacks.
"Hello, darling," he drawled, "you seem to have something of mine."
"Oh do I? I didn't even realize. And what's that, because I'm certainly not wearing your underclothes." I could see his grin at the memory of my lacy pink g-string.
He chuckled. "I didn't mean that. I meant my lovely little black, leather, gold-plated, laser personalized briefcase."
"Oh. I didn't even notice. Unfortunately, I'm going out of town for a day, FWPP business, you know. I can get it back to you at the earliest, by tomorrow."
"I really would like it sooner, if there's any possibility--"
I cut him off. "Usually men," I picked the word carefully, "wait for the second date. You'll just have to wait until tomorrow. I really don't think we know each other well enough--emotionally I mean." Bringing emotions into the mix always cools down men.
"Oh, well, I guess it can wait. I have great staying power."
"So I've come to discover. Well, darling, I'm boarding my plane. I'll be back tomorrow. I'm driving to London from Kingsbridge. My hot air balloon will take me from Kingsbridge to Toulouse."
"Okay darling, I'll see you tomorrow. How about we have dinner at this wonderful, expensive Romanian restuarant that I know."
"Sounds lovely. I love plum brandy." The date would not occur. By that time tomorrow, now only would Bond and I not meet again, but the world would be changed drastically. The vast majority of the world's vodka would be devoured by insatiable fiery tongues, fueled by Bond!
We'd love to thank our loyal readers! Thank you! You love us, you really love us. To quote the Manic Street Preachers song, "You love us, oh you love us, you love, you love us, you love us, you love!"
Author's Disclaimer: This is a work of Parody. Dumbasses.
Thank you for the wonderful insight, Caillte.
And now, I, Glass of Water, leave you with this:The answer to all our problems is mawiage. Mawiage is what bwings us togetherw.
And thus, readers, I leave you with that. Ponder ituntil our next installment of
DANCING DEMISE.