When you are .007, pint-sized super spy, any day could be black-ops training day.
Although they never call it black-ops training – of course not.
Instead, they say things like you are competing in a “prettiness contest.”
You may even be lured in at first when they greet you at the door, coo over you, give you the “special” perch, but then….wait for it.
Before you know it you are wearing an unbecoming towel while the enemy shines bright lights into various orifices and takes vital fluids for so-called “research” purposes.
You know, Mom, this room really lacks….ambience. It feels rather, well, clinical. Are you sure this is where the “prettiness contest” is being held?
You want to take a few warm-up shots before the contest starts? Okay, but to be honest, I don’t really need the practice.
We both know I’m a shoe-in to win the title of “prettiest.”
Seriously, Mom? Are you sure this so-called “contest” is for real? This contestant doesn’t even have any feathers!
Can we just declare me the winner and move on to the victory waffle brunch?
This is new too – since when has a “prettiness contest” required a weigh-in?
I KNEW there was something fishy about all of this. Clearly I am in a black-ops training site as part of my .007 “continuing education.” Time to bring my A-game!
Prepare to encounter the “beak o’ death!”
Sheesh. This is worse than being stalked by the paparazzi.
But I’m such a black-ops pro I’ll bet my blood pressure isn’t even high from that training exercise!
Safety at last. Only a pro like .007 could discern such a perfect camouflaged hiding spot – they’ll never find me now!
Author: Shannon Cutts
Co-Author: Pearl Cutts
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