Note: The following is an excerpt from my upcoming children's book Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Santa's Super Helpers. This early preview may contain typographical or grammatical errors that haven't been corrected yet.
Chapter 1: Extra Crispy'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the top secret government black ops field office, not a creature was stirring except for a diabolical pig with devious designs on taking over the world and other self-serving plans, a crazy disco dancing frog, and, well, the entire I.T. staff...
"I can't believe they're having us work on Christmas Eve." Secret Agent Disco Dancer propped up his feet on the desk and leaned back in his chair.
"Yeah, tell me about it," said Gruber, a twelve-year old genius and youngest agent ever to work for Black Eagle. His glasses looked like the bottoms of Coke bottles, his hair short, straight and spiky. Although it was cold out, he wore shorts. Even Secret Agent Disco Dancer couldn't believe his boss, the brown Andalusian Special Agent Halfwitz, let him get away with it.
Gruber rolled up his diagrams, which detailed where to add additional firewalls and other security measures to make the network impervious to outside hackers, and slid them in a long cardboard tube.
"Don't you know? Evil never rests. And, well...it's not like you numbskulls were doing anything, anyways." Earnest T. Bacon, the T undoubtedly for Trouble, stepped into the frog's office with a present in hand--a black bow over black wrapping paper.
"If I had my Firetoad clearance, I'd be more useful." Secret Agent Disco Dancer sat up straight. "It's crazy, really. Even though I have a direct line to the president, I can't read my own memos--even from missions that I took part in!"
"Need-to-know, froggy woggy, need-to-know. And it's better that you don't know anything. Not that you do, of course." Earnest coughed, surprised at the venom coming out of his mouth that eve. "Although it pains me to say this: Merry Christmas, Secret Agent Disco Dancer. You survived the first year, which is longer than I ever thought you'd last. For that, you deserve a reward." The pig set the gift down carefully on the desk.
"Really? I don't know what to say..."
"Well, if I were in the Christmas spirit, I'd say don't open it," Earnest thought to himself and grinned.
"That's not fair. I didn't get anything for you," said the frog.
"There's always next Christmas," Earnest smirked as he said it. He walked away as fast as he could, hoping Secret Agent Disco Dancer did not hear the ticking coming from inside the package.
"Wow, that's nice of him. Is that the same pig?" Gruber peeked down the hallway at the fleeing swine, then back at the gift. "So what do you think it is?"
"Oh, it's a bomb, of course. Say, can you hand me that jar?" Secret Agent Disco Dancer pointed to a glass jar filled to the brim with popcorn kernels.
"Sure." Gruber fetched it for him and readjusted his glasses.
"As they always say, when life hands you lemons, make lemonade, or in this case, when covert assassins in the highest places of government hand you bombs..." He reached inside his desk, grabbed a blast bag, unzipped it, tossed in Earnest's gift, sprinkled popcorn kernels on top, and zipped it back up. "Make popcorn!" He shook the contents around until the bomb detonated.
The bag jumped out of Secret Agent Disco Dancer's hand, expanding ten times its normal size before finally deflating. He put his head up against it and heard the faint sound of popping. "Ooh...I think it's almost ready... You wouldn't happen to have any butter handy, would you?"
Gruber checked his pockets then shook his head, mortified one of his coworkers had tried to take out the outrageous frog.
Secret Agent Disco Dancer unzipped the bag and gaped at the charred remains inside. "Oh Orville, what have they done to you? Well, so much for smoked brisket popcorn." He dumped the blast bag in the trashcan, which caught fire.
"You're not going to report this?" Gruber asked.
"Report what? It's Christmas!" Secret Agent Disco Dancer grabbed a fire extinguisher from around the corner and put out the fire.
"But he gave you a bomb."
"That's not the worst he's given me."
"Right. So, uh...what did you get your children for Christmas?"
"Great Scott!" The frog nearly jumped out of his skin. "Tomorrow's Christmas! How did it sneak up on me?" He looked around. "Oh, the horror! I didn't get my children anything. Quick, there isn't any time to lose." He hopped out of his chair.
"What is it, Secret Agent Disco Dancer? You want to go to the mall? I hear Pentagon City is open till midnight."
"That won't help at all, especially since the post office shut down for the holidays."
"Huh? What are you talking about?"
"I need to speak to main man himself if my children have any hope of getting presents. I must find...Santa Claus!" Secret Agent Disco Dancer held one finger high, the fire reigniting in the waste basket behind him.
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Santa's Super Helpers is now available >>