Chapter Uno! Appointment... with disaster!
It was a bright summer morning, and kingmonkey was just finishing his swim in the Olympic-sized, banana-shaped, champagne swimming pool. It was bright (as previously mentioned), and it was warm, with an afternoon high expected to reach 28 degrees Celsius, winds from the east at 5km/h, 15% chance of precipitation. The ruggedly handsome monkey luxuriated as he dried himself off with his solid gold towel, enjoying the feel of the warm sun and gentle easterly breeze on his naked monkey parts.
His day was packed. First he would eat a breakfast largely consisting of peanut butter and chocolate bars, washed down with beer. Next on his agenda was an inordinate amount of time playing video games on his cinema-sized television. After that, lunch: nachos and beer! Following that, he would harass Crazy Ned, the bum who lived on the mansion's front lawn. After that... truthfully, kingmonkey wasn't what you'd call a 'planner' and had no real plans for the late afternoon and onwards, only vague conceptions of what he would do. He did know that they involved women in some fashion, and possibly some kind of physical activity. He logically concluded he was going to be playing rugby with women, but couldn't imagine a rational reason why at this point. He hoped the afternoon would be more clear after his nacho and beer lunch.
Unfortunately, as is often the way of things for international super spies, his plans were to be interrupted. The Blue phone began to ring in the far west wing of the mansion. At once, kingmonkey sat in the speed chair, clicked the GO switch and was whisked along greased rails, through his amazing mansion, at unreasonable speeds toward his private spy room. The chair whooshed along, frightening the butler, and threatening to throw kingmonkey off at every junction. At last, he arrived more or less safely except for one collision with a stuffed flamingo which would leave an uncomfortably visible bruise. Damn that stuffed flamingo; this round was it's, but kingmonkey would win the war.
The blue phone rang and the auto-viewer screen had automatically turned itself on. The President of the World Spy League was on the monitor, waiting for kingmonkey to pick up the blue phone. kingmonkey quickly poured himself a glass of water (scotch) to steady his stomach after the chair ride, while the blue phone rang. He also swallowed a pair of antacid tablets while the blue phone rang. The President of the World Spy League (whose title, the regulations state, must always be capitalized when either written or spoken) waited impatiently, puffing his big cigar and emitting tiny white clouds of irritated smoke while he waited for kingmonkey to answer the blue phone.
Answer the blue phone, dammit!
"Okay, keep your horses on," kingmonkey mixedly metaphorized, acknowledging the voice of the narrator, "what's up, o Presidente?"
"It's about time you answered the blue phone, kingmonkey," the President of the World Spy League's voice was thick with aggravation and velvety smooth, rumbling out from beneath his voluminous moustache (an Imperial, if you're curious), "we need your help."
"That's what I'm here for," kingmonkey narrowed his simian eyes in an attempt to appear tough. He failed, looking more myopic than heroic. "What do you need?"
"It's Iron Cast, the armoured dictator of the tiny European nation of Bacteria who is always trying to conquer the world," exposited the President of the World Spy League, "he's been freed from the World Super Prison by members of his elite forces. They broke him out by posing as French Bakers. They went in under the pretense of replenishing the baguette supply, and incapacitated the guards with sleeping-gas-brioche-bombs, and extra-old baguettes which they used as batons."
"I knew they shouldn't have put that prison in America," kingmonkey smacked his tiny fist into his tiny palm, gosh he's so cute, and tiny, just like a little person. "Americans are unable to resist anything French; they just love them too much!"
"It's true," the President of the World Spy League nodded solemnly, "Americans love their baguettes without regard for the consequences. But that doesn't matter now, we need you to bring Iron Cast back in. We'll pay you the sum of one hundred million dollars if you can do it."
Without a word, kingmonkey put on his white and red jumpsuit, and the gold cape that came with it. He picked up his motorcycle helmet and turned dramatically to the video screen.
"I'll do it, Presidente," kingmonkey announced.
He stormed out of the spy room with heroic music playing on his mp3 player. He kicked open the door to the main hall, knocking over the startled butler. But kingmonkey didn't have time for such minor concerns. He had an appointment: an appointment with... disaster!
Stay tuned for Chapter 2: The Spy Who Clubbed Me!