My Left Lung Contains Compressed Natural Gas
My left lung- “Doc! Moose!”
- and her pet Arthur
- unfamiliar with “flipping the bird”
- Puerto Rico meant nothing to her
- “Survival of the fittest,” she hissed
- “Far worse, Uncle Kent,”
My left lung contains compressed natural gas, which gives me a formidable weapon but impairs my stamina. My partner’s toenails can generate an electromagnetic pulse, making her a threat to sensitive electronics and augmenting her tap dancing.
“Doc! Moose!” That had to be Biff, counteragent and general numbskull, calling for his associates. We were in danger.
My partner rounded a corner in the warehouse and stopped short, confronted by all three of our enemies. I peered past her to see the men’s disappointed faces as they discovered she was unfamiliar with “flipping the bird.” Suddenly she leapt aside, and the bullets struck me instead. Moments later she returned fire, dispatching her clueless adversaries.
“Wait,” I groaned as she started to leave.
“Survival of the fittest,” she hissed. Puerto Rico meant nothing to her.
The gunshots had embedded harmlessly in the kevlar envelope surrounding my left lung, but I was woozy. I just needed a hand up, but she was abandoning me for dead. So I flicked my lighter and exhaled forcefully, roasting her where she stood.
Her, and her pet Arthur the Mouse who always rode in her pocket.
“Can this day get any worse?” I muttered.
“Far worse, Uncle Kent,” came my evil nephew’s chilling retort.
Oh noes! What will happen to Uncle Kent!