Showing posts with label spy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spy. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 5, 2021

Am I Being Followed (and not just online)?

           Whenever our eldest, Richie, comes over, I try not to pester him for tech help. I even thought of posting a sign like they have at some offices: 

          Only mine would say, “47 days since Richie has been asked for tech help.”  But I can never last that long. This time I was trying to load a photo to a new location and it wouldn’t work.

          And then—Shazam! I opened the new location and there was the photo. “Hey, wait! I guess I did it after all,” I said.

          St. Bob shook his head. “Before I die I’m going to hire someone to follow her around.”

          Richie laughed and nodded. “You could probably get someone to do it for free, if you advertise to comedians who need material.”

          Ha! Little do they know I’m planning to join the CIA as a spy, and you know they get followed around all the time. I am way ahead of this.

Writers are notorious daydreamers. See for yourself by ordering my books!

Tuesday, January 15, 2019

Alter Ego

Here’s how to look like a super spy. First, have a mastectomy that requires a drain. This handy tube will connect to a little bulb that looks like a hand grenade.  It will rest in a little pouch at your waist.
Now put on any top, shirt, or jacket. You will see a bulge that looks like you are totally packing heat, and lots of it. Folks will think you’re armed with a Glock and a silencer, maybe even a machine gun.
But wait, there’s more. Now have basal cell skin cancer on your nose, which will require a bandage (read: disguise). No one will ever be able to identify you in a lineup!
Last, be thinking of these daring superheroes when you’re in the hospital to have lymph nodes removed later. You’ll be filling out a zillion boring forms as if purchasing a condominium for crying out loud (well, that’s not all they’re for), and you’ll think, “Wait. I’m a caped crusader. I shouldn’t have to sit here and sign ‘Joni Hilton’ on everything.”
And you’ll realize your signature is always such a rushed mess that nobody can read it anyway, right?  And then you’ll do what I did on every one of those forms: You’ll sign them all Zorro.
And then you’ll order my books to read while recovering.