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- Herausgeber: Publisher s21000
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
Lobster Bisque, anyone? How about a nice, big piece of Tira Misu? Filled with pepperoni, of course… And did somebody say pizza?
Buckle up, buster, because this disco dancing frog is no joke, and evil doesn’t stand a chance against the super spy stomach of the swamp. (Unless his tummy starts rumbling or the world runs out of Ding Dongs…)
Enjoy the first eight episodes from the ongoing serial novel Secret Agent Disco Dancer, including the following smash hits:
SIDE A
Green Eggs and a Side of Earnest Bacon
Double Agent Orangegrove
Was It the Lobster Bisque?
The Last Ding Dong on Earth
SIDE B
Did Somebody Say Pizza?
Frosted Flake
Was It the Tira Misu?
Burger Blues
Over 350 pages in all. Descriptions of my other popular children's books are included after the main feature (an additional 5 pages). BONUS: Burger Blues Side Story is also included!
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
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Secret Agent Disco Dancer
Greatest Hits Vol. 1
My Crazy Pet Frog Reading Order
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Green Eggs and a Side of Earnest Bacon
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Double Agent Orangegrove
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Was It The Lobster Bisque?
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: The Last Ding Dong on Earth
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Did Somebody Say Pizza?
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Frosted Flake
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Was It The Tira Misu?
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Burger Blues
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Burger Blues 2 (Coming Soon!)
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Burger Blues Side Story
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Government Issue (Coming Soon!)
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: You Don't Know Jack
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Soccer Star
My Crazy Pet Frog: I Gave My Pizza A Spanking
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Santa's Super Helpers
My Crazy Pet Frog: The Nightmare Pizza Before Christmas
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: The Zombies Ate My Pizza
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Taco Tuesday
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Black Mountain (Coming Soon!)
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Chicken George
My Crazy Pet Frog (The original picture book!)
My Crazy Pet Frog: A Novelette
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: A Novel (Coming Soon!)
Collections
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Greatest Hits Vol. 1
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Grand Slam
© 2018 Scott Gordon. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form (electronic, mechanical or otherwise) without the express written consent of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
E-book layout, formatting and design by Scott Gordon.
Image(s) © Julien Tromeur, Mircea Maties, Asaf Eliason, Todd Arena, Dmitry Kutlaev, Anna Tsekhmister, Nataliia Natykach, Maksym Yemelyanov, Slavoljub Pantelic, Malgorzata Patrzyk, Oleksii Ferapontov, Grigoriy Manukyan, Pablo Scapinachis Armstrong, Alexander Mirokhin, Einar Muoni, Denis Dovzhanskiy, Alexander Mirokhin and Stefano Orazzini. Additional black and white illustration(s) by Alfredo Intoci. Extended licenses provided by Dreamstime Stock Photos and Deposit Photos.
Background texture for Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Frosted Flake provided by Piotr Siedlecki and used in accordance with the CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0) Public Domain License described on the following page:https://publicdomainpictures.net/en/view-image.php?image=157148&picture=liquid-chocolate
First Edition (v1.0)
Published on September 15, 2018
Last updated on May 10, 2020
ISBN-13: 9781386945970
Table of Contents
Title Page
Also by Scott Gordon
Copyright
Dedication
Cast
Book 1: Green Eggs and a Side of Earnest Bacon
Chapter 1: F for Frillyfoam or Fiasco?
Chapter 2: Variable Intellect
Chapter 3: Hot Tub Halfwit
Chapter 4: Erratically Yours
Chapter 5: Lucky Schmucky
Chapter 6: Green Eggs
Chapter 7: A Gift Horse and a Name
Chapter 8: Partners in Crime
On Green Eggs...Eek!
Book 2: Double Agent Orangegrove
Chapter 1: Piggy Wiggy
Chapter 2: Pizza Passcode
Chapter 3: Black Eagle
Chapter 4: Sitter, Sitter Fruit Ninja Dinner
Chapter 5: Fruity Folly
Chapter 6: Rolling, Rolling, Rolling...
Intermission and a Side of Fruit
Chapter 7: Most Wanted
Chapter 8: Fruity Express
Chapter 9: Fruity, Inc.
Chapter 10: Potty Patrol
Chapter 11: Macho Gazpacho
Chapter 12: Chili Verde
Chapter 13: Orangegrove
Chapter 14: Double Agent Orangegrove
Chapter 15: All Clear
It Must Have Been the Twinkie!
Book 3: Was It The Lobster Bisque?
Chapter 1: Swine
Chapter 2: The Hand You’re Dealt
Chapter 3: Bucharest Beauty
Chapter 4: Doozy
Chapter 5: Criminally Inept
Chapter 6: Le Bisque, Le YIKES!
Chapter 7: Le True Master Chef
A Scary Place, Indeed
Book 4: The Last Ding Dong on Earth
Chapter 1: Bottomless
Chapter 2: Headline News
Chapter 3: Ding Dong
Chapter 4: Cheesey
Chapter 5: Barren
Chapter 6: Frisky
Chapter 7: Juicy
Chapter 8: Private Eye
Chapter 9: Highest Bidder
Chapter 10: Nano Nano
Chapter 11: Decor
Chapter 12: Heel
Chapter 13: Cheeky
Chapter 14: Wallwalker
Chapter 15: Spinjam
Chapter 16: Les Ding Dongs
Chapter 17: Mega Dong
Chapter 18: Le Mega Log
Chapter 19: Sludge
Chapter 20: Feed Me
Production Notes: A Ding Dong in the Making
Hostess Disclaimer
Book 5: Did Somebody Say Pizza?
Hold onto Your Pepperoni!
Chapter 1: Rump
Chapter 2: Fake News
Chapter 3: Laike
Chapter 4: Yummy
Chapter 5: Escort
Chapter 6: Lucky
Chapter 7: Cripple Chamber
Chapter 8: Very Fake News
Chapter 9: Newbie
Chapter 10: Margin of Error
Chapter 11: Interview with a Bunghole
Chapter 12: Perpetrator
Chapter 13: Special Delivery
Chapter 14: Backstreet
Chapter 15: Loud and Clear
Chapter 16: Legendary
Yeah, What the Heck?
Production Journal: Marshaling in a New Era of Pizza Imperfection
Book 6: Frosted Flake
Warning: Turbulence Ahead
Chapter 1: Frost-Deficient
Chapter 2: Hairy Scary
Chapter 3: Terminated
Chapter 4: Dallas
Chapter 5: Last Call
Chapter 6: Fart Wars
Chapter 7: Dreadlocked
Chapter 8: Scruggs
Chapter 9: Compromised
Chapter 10: Nutter
Chapter 11: Air Force One
Chapter 12: Dumped
Chapter 13: Scruggy Wuggy
Chapter 14: Payload
Chapter 15: Pop Goes the Weasel
Chapter 16: Lax
Chapter 17: Chocodile Smile
Writing: A Constant Juggling Act
Production Journal: A Flakey Start
Wendy’s Disclaimer
Book 7: Was It The Tira Misu?
Prologue: O Canada
Chapter 1: Everlast
Chapter 2: Maria di Grazia
Chapter 3: Bad Pitts
Chapter 4: First Love
Chapter 5: Grogburp
Chapter 6: Second Love
Chapter 7: A Simple Trade
Chapter 8: Market Price
Chapter 9: Fresh Catch
Chapter 10: Bon Appetit
Chapter 11: Toothless
Chapter 12: Untainted
Bittersweet
Production Journal: Finally Within Reach
Book 8: Burger Blues
Chapter 1: Steak ‘n Shake
Chapter 2: Shake ‘n Shake
Chapter 3: Steak ‘n Break
Chapter 4: Steak ‘n Ache
Chapter 5: Steak ‘n Spake
Chapter 6: Steak ‘n Plates
Chapter 7: Steak ‘n Shriek
Chapter 8: Steak ‘n Hate
Chapter 9: Steak ‘n Quake
The Story Behind the Steakburger
A Word About Ronda
BOOK 9: Burger Blues Side Story
An Opening Quote to Ponder
Chapter 1: No Problemo
Chapter 2: Hamburger Helper
Chapter 3: Matchmaker, Matchmaker
Chapter 4: No Muy Bueno
Chapter 5: Western Beefcake
Chapter 6: Bottomless
Author’s Note: Every Steakburger Should Be Finished
About This Series
Series Guide
Bibliography
Revision History
Product Description
About the Author
Bonus Preview
More Fun Picture Books
Ad 1: Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Santa's Super Helpers
Ad 2: The Forgetful Alien
Ad 3: My Crazy Pet Frog: The Nightmare Pizza Before Christmas
Thank You!
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There are those that annoy you and those that you wish to put a pie in the face. Secret Agent Disco Dancer is one of the those pied-eyed surprises.
--Earnest T. Bacon, author of
Chapter 1: F for Frillyfoam or Fiasco?
Earnest T. Bacon, at your service, and the T stands for Trouble if you try to harm this great nation or get in my way of protecting it.
Some say I’m with the Bureau, while others think I must be part of the C.I.A.--a “spook” if you will. But no one knows what off-the-books programs I belong to, sometimes even me.
That crazy frog that you’ve heard about in the headlines? The truth is I played a part in molding Secret Agent Disco Dancer into the superstar that he is today.
It all started at a convention for new recruits, at a hotel just outside the nation’s capital. Most of the applicants didn’t realize they were applying for the nation’s most exciting and dangerous jobs; thought they had volunteered for a clinical study for a new pill to help rid themselves of headaches. As it turned out, I caused a great number of them in the process, including one migraine that never seems to go away.
By manipulating this variable and that--someone’s finances or a recent personal tragedy--orchestrated by me, of course--we were able to gather a healthy assembly of the most brilliant minds our great nation had to offer under one roof for cheap.
Of course, there’s the riff raff that eventually drifts in, as is apt to happen.
“Hey, free donuts!” A green frog about the size of a ten-year old with an intellectual capacity far below that, tossed a few glazed donuts down his pie hole.
I noticed him, wondering if the hotel staff had failed in their responsibility to keep the homeless out. Since I was heading this covert program, I wanted to meet each applicant personally as they signed in, got their badge, and proceeded into the grand ballroom. Unfortunately, I got a front row seat of the walking disaster who would later be known as Secret Agent Disco Dancer.
“Name, please?” I was already growing impatient with him, watching him gobble down donut after donut and wondering if there would be enough for anyone else.
“Frillyfoam. Fredrico Frillyfoam.” He licked his fingertips.
“Seriously? Is that even a name?” I replied.
“Yup. That’s me! But you can just call me Fred, as in Fred the Frog.” He noticed the chocolate chocolate chip muffins on a tray beside the pastries.
“How original.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have you on my list.” I double checked it for any name that remotely sounded like Fred or its Spanish equivalent and prayed that I didn’t find one. “Did you, by chance, bring your invitation to be part of the study with you?”
“Oh, yeah.” He reached into God-knows-where and pulled out a crumpled up piece of paper.
“This is a letter of rejection.” I frowned, already calculating the cost of the donuts and muffins he’d ingested since arriving here. “You scored a nine on the aptitude test.”
“Nine out of ten isn’t bad.” He found the box of cinnamon-flavored Pop Tarts I’d hidden in the plants and inhaled a packet.
“Nine out of a hundred, you twit. You’re at the lower edge of the bell curve.”
“Curve? Do you see curves?” He looked himself over. “I probably should grab something more healthy.” He grabbed a plastic plate and added a bran muffin and large spoonful of diced fruit on it.
“Will you stop eating!” I got up from my chair, ready to choke my favorite flavor of Pop Tarts back out of him. But as I stood, I had a disastrous thought, one that I’d regret as the years rolled by when Secret Agent Disco Dancer became an icon in our industry. “On second thought, why don’t you come inside? We’re always looking for individuals with multiple talents, regardless of which side of the bell curve they’re on.”
“Gee, thanks. Sorry about the mix-up,” said the frog.
“Don’t mention it.” I swiped the box of Pop Tarts before he had a chance to reconsider his new diet. “Now off you go. The presentation’s going to begin in a few minutes.”
“Swell.” Fred took a bite of his bran muffin and moseyed on through the door.
Chapter 2: Variable Intellect
In every study, there’s always at least one control variable that doesn’t change during the course of an experiment. This is for the benefit of the study, so that results can be evaluated objectively and reproduced if the same conditions are duplicated.
But for some of these top secret black ops projects, it was getting increasingly difficult to establish reliable controls to determine whether a certain pharmaceutical was successful or not.
The object of our affection? Human intelligence and its ability to blossom with new techniques and supplements. Since the average intelligence quotient, or i.q. as we call it, was easily above 110 in the room--with one notable exception, I might add--it might be difficult to measure the effects of certain compounds on these highly proficient individuals.
A brilliant man with a score of 146 might seem no more measurably brilliant with the aid of a pill even though his new score might put him in the 150s. Those few points could mean the difference between life and death, and whether or not a terrorist plot is thwarted and its mastermind put behind bars.
Every braincell counts.
With no measurable way to detect slight increases in intelligence, even as much as 5%, it’s always good to have an alternate variable to show that the pill is working as intended. Creatures of low intelligence always seem to have the greatest reaction to such supplements, and can serve multiple purposes before they are disposed of.
Still, there are growing pains...
“Thank you all for giving up your weekend to participate in this fine study, one that promises to be beneficial to all mankind.” I stepped to the podium and adjusted my shades to the spotlight above me.
“Cheese Its? Hey, where did you find those?” That dastardly frog known as Fred asked the gentleman behind him.
“Who here gets headaches?” I looked around the room to an array of eager hands. “I certainly do. Unfortunately I can see one here, in the front row.” I glared at the frog. “Now I realize that many of you might be anxious, and I want to alleviate your fears. This study is absolutely painless, and at any time, if you choose to terminate your involvement, you are free to go. The process is quite simple, really. First...”
“Oh, there they are!” Fred grabbed a bag of Cheese Its from a table off to the side of the ballroom and returned to his seat. As he opened the bag, it made an irritating crinkling sound, which is sure to make pigs, such as myself, fly.
“Will you stop that?” I grumbled. “Anyways, it’s quite simple. First, each of you will be given a pill every twelve hours. One now, which you will ingest in your room, and a pair that you will consume at breakfast and dinner on Saturday and Sunday. That’s all. No needles, no injections, no electric saw to the brain.”
The crowd laughed.
“The whole process is painless, I assure you.” I smiled.
I was a good liar. In fact, I’d made a career of it. Unfortunately, that nincompoop frog saw right through me.
“Yeah, right.” He kicked back in his chair.
“Now, we will run tests on Saturday and Sunday. Don’t worry. They’re quite standard. We’ll measure your blood pressure, heart rate, and let you fill out a few word games to make sure that you can focus without pain. At the end of the test, you will receive your full stipend. Leave early, and well, you don’t get a penny of it. Is that clear?” I looked around the room.
Eagerly the crowd nodded. All but one, I’m afraid, who was munching away on a bag of Cheetos he’d found on the other side of the ballroom. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that that particular bag wasn’t being provided at the government’s expense. Might some angry participant throttle the frog for grabbing the bag of Cheetos that they’d paid for? I could only hope.
“And what if we require further testing?” A slender amphibian with light green and tan skin and striking red eyes raised his hand.
He was Prospect #1, the applicant with the highest i.q. in the room, Frogwart Fisk. His intellect even dwarfed this little piggy wiggy’s.
“I’m glad you asked.” I disregarded the blathering slob burping in the front row. “If any of you require further study, and by that I’m not implying that you’ll need to go to the hospital.” Though they might. “In the event that we want to continue our study, our organization is prepared to pay $10,000 per month for your participation, however long it takes.”
You could've heard a pin drop when I unloaded that bombshell. Even that knucklehead of a frog choked on his Cheetos.
“$10,000?” he croaked.
“That’ll buy a lot of glazed donuts, don’t you think?” I smiled.
Though no one suspected it, except Fisk most likely, I had them right where I wanted them.
Chapter 3: Hot Tub Halfwit
For that frog that is ever a thorn in my side, who makes me cringe at the sub-intellects who inhabit this earth and often hold public office, I didn’t have a special pill for him. It was the same pill like all the rest. He was only useful if I could show some increase in mental aptitude, though I would have been surprised if he had a single braincell to study. Still, it was in my best interest to show results, not just in the new recruits that I was bringing in, but for the pharmaceutical company I’d heavily invested in. Despite the nonsense I was forced to endure, Fred the Frog was my meal ticket who would no sooner be kicked to the curb when Sunday evening’s final session came to a close.
“Here you go.” I delivered Fred’s supplements to him personally.
Not surprisingly, I found him in the bathroom of his swank hotel room, playing with his rubber ducky.
“Hey, isn’t this great?” He splashed around. “This tub even has jets in them in case you have to...you know...” I heard a toot, most likely from his back end, but I wasn’t willing to rule out his brain. His untimely air biscuit rose to the surface and popped, stinking up the bathroom.
“It’s a whirlpool tub. Quite common in modern hotels.” I tried to waft the stink away with my free hand. “Anyways, I came to leave you with this.” I handed him a bottle.
“Oh, thanks!” He jumped out of the tub, grabbed the bottle, and swallowed all five pills.
“NO!” I gasped, unable to believe my eyes. “You’re supposed to take one every twelve hours like I instructed.”
“Well, down-the-hatch, slam dunk, bye, bye!” He dove back in the tub.
“If your heart starts beating erratically and your head starts feeling like someone is taking a sledgehammer to it, don’t bother calling 911. You’ll be dead from a brain aneurism in seconds.”
“Very well. Hey, thanks for stopping by, dude.” Fred floated on his back, spitting water out of his mouth.
“And use soap, you filthy frog!” I shut the door and stomped off.
Chapter 4: Erratically Yours
When it came time to do the 9 a.m. general health check up the following morning, I was surprised to find that nincompoop of a frog at the front of the line. He even had a fresh mint smell about him. Was it possible that he bathed and brushed his teeth?
“Still alive?” I put my briefcase on the table and sat down. Grand Ballroom A had been converted into a testing facility overnight for all 118 participants. Although many still hadn’t arrived, there was plenty of space for everyone.
“Boy am I ever! I don’t know what you gave me, but I feel great. I’ve been up all night doing Sodoku.”
“Sodoku? Really?” I checked his heart rate, which was understandably erratic for the type of frog that he was, not to mention all the sugar he’d inhaled. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure if he knew what Sodoku was, but when he produced the completed booklets that he’d scribbled on from the gift shop, I could see that he could at least write down numbers. Whether or not they were correct was an entirely different matter. “Impressive.” I looked at them briefly.
That was probably enough to prove that the supplement worked, and I probably could have kicked him to the curb at that point, but I still needed definitive proof that it worked in normal doses.
“Well, your heart rate and blood pressure seem a bit high, which is no surprise given the circumstances.” Like consuming five times the normal dose of an intelligence supplement while also being a raving lunatic. “There are a few word puzzles that I’d like you to complete just to be sure that the brain is functioning as it should be. Tomorrow we’ll do a computer-based version to verify the results.”
Yeah, brain. Who was I kidding?
“Oh, you mean this?” He handed me the filled out survey.
“When did you do this?”
“Just now while you were checking my vitals and taking notes. The stack is sitting right next to you.”
“That it is.” I frowned and thumbed through his answers.
I’d taken the same test as he, but unlike my test subject, I knew that I was actually being tested by a covert agency. The questions had subtle shifts in language designed to mislead and produce incorrect results. Those that saw through the deceit would score high on our recruit list. And that darn frog had passed with flying colors. He even got a few right that I had missed.
“Splendid. That will be all.” I smiled, and waited for him to walk away before tossing his form in the trashcan.
Chapter 5: Lucky Schmucky
When it came time for froggy to receive his evening pill, I made sure that he had only one this time. I found him in the outdoor hot tub overlooking the swimming pool sipping iced tea.
“Hey, how’s it hanging, bub? Isn’t this grand?” He took in the fading sunlight, which was still too intense for my tender, pink skin.
“I came to give you this.” I tossed the pill in his mouth.
“Mmm...yummy. Got anymore? I’m kinda starving out here, man,” said Fred.
“They’re not candy, you schmuck! And they can be harmful if you take too many at one time. Didn’t you mommy teach you anything?”
“Huh?” Another stinky hot air bubble floated to the surface.
“I’d like you to do another word puzzle when you have time this evening.” I handed him a much harder test, one that caused current agents to grow hair on their palms.
“Sure, whatever.” He took the stapled packet and pen from me, scribbled down the answers at lightspeed, and handed them back to me. “Anything else?”
In an effort to prove that his intellectual capacity had dropped sharply after the supplement had worn off, the opposite had happened. His i.q. had actually grown since his last dosage.
All things considered, it could only be one thing: luck. What else could it be?
“No, nothing else.” I read his answers more carefully as I stepped back in the hotel, and threw away the packet in disgust.
Chapter 6: Green Eggs
The truth is, it’s all my fault. I set myself up for this, not believing that that moronic frog could do anything more than repeat the popular brand names of foods he liked.
We were now getting ominously close to the computer-based part of the trial, which I had no intention of letting him take. His answers would be sent directly to headquarters and analyzed in real time. If they saw his sudden rise in aptitude, which was likely a flash-in-the-pan, they’d likely bring him in and I’d never be rid of him. We already had a twelve-year-old boy who was born in the lab. We didn’t need to provide him with a pet frog sidekick.
Leaving me with little choice, I went to his room that morning to ask him to pack his bags and explain why there wouldn’t be anymore pills. But when I arrived at 7 a.m., there was no one there, though there was plenty of water on the bathroom floor.
As I wandered through the back halls, I passed by a restricted area that was unlocked. “Oh dread!” My heart raced, which is not good for pigs pushing forty. I stepped through the cage door, and continued around a corner to the laboratory at the end. That door was also open, and inside, that wretched frog was chowing down on a pair of gelatin eggs which reminded me of a mixture of green slime and Eggs Benedict.
“Hey, these are great. Would you like to try one?” Fred offered me a fistful of slime.
“No, stop! What are you doing?” I screamed.
“Just eating a couple green eggs.” He swallowed them down. “Are you here to provide the ham?” He winked at me.
“Do you realize where you are?”
“Room service, right?” He looked around.
“This is an experimental test facility, and what you just ate is made of iToxx nano-cortical stimulation gel. It’s the raw pharmaceutical, which is usually split into tiny portions and ground into a fine dust for our pills.
“Well it wasn’t chocolate chip pancakes or anything, but it certainly hit the spot. Would you happen to have a breath mint handy?” said the frog.
“Out, out out!” I grabbed the frog by his neck and dragged him down the hallway. “We’re done with you. You failed the experiment!” I reached the service door at the far end of the building and was about to push him through when a tall, brown Andalusian horse stepped inside. It was Special Agent Halfwitz, one of my many bosses.
“Sorry I’m late. I meant to be here for the kickoff, but I got tied up in D.C. Politics, isn’t it always?” he said.
“I know exactly what you mean. Don’t worry. I’ve taken care of everything, including taking out the trash.” I looked down at the frog.
“So who do you have there?”
“Oh, no one. He’s not even supposed to be here, really.” I slowly eased up on his throat.
“Oh, thanks. For a moment I thought I might get brain damage.” The frog gasped for air.
Which was impossible, since you have you to have a brain to begin with.
“So did I pass the test? Or do I require further evaluation?” said the frog.
“I already told you. You failed!” I said.
“But they’re not pass/fail tests. What were his scores?” Halfwitz asked.
“Well, the truth is... I kinda lost them...” I said, hoping my boss would take my word for it and let me throw him into the pond out back.
“That’s ok. I’ll run the tests myself. You haven’t started the computer-based part of the program yet, have you?”
“Heavens, no!” I gasped.
“Well, froggy. What do you say? Would you like to take one of these cryptic mind-altering tests that’s sure to leave gray hairs?” Halfwitz turned to the pathetic frog.
“Why, sure. Especially since I don’t have any actual hair.” Fred walked along with him.
“No, wait! Please consider what you are saying!” I hurried after them.
But it was too late. Far, far too late...
Chapter 7: A Gift Horse and a Name
I watched them through a one-way mirror in the observation room while Special Agent Halfwitz conducted the test. Part of me wondered if the frog’s head might explode having consumed 2,000 times the normal dosage. Still, he seemed no worse for wear as he cheerfully pecked at the keyboard and used the mouse to perform one of the many pattern recognition tests.
The core of test, divided into three sections, was certainly enough to make one’s head spin. It was the hardest one by far, but the vivacious frog just plugged right along, occasionally causing Halfwitz to blurt out, “Amazing!”
The whole scene turned my stomach. I hoped that I might catch him cheating in some fashion, my last chance of ridding him from us in an amicable way, but he was too well supervised to pull a fast one.
Slowly I became aware of the gun at my back. “Hello, piggy wiggy.” I instantly recognized Frogwart Fisk’s raspy voice. “How’s the trial going? Have you found your next super soldier yet?” He laughed at the sight of the frog.
“No. All of our prospects are woefully deficient. Except you, sir.”
I made sure to add that last part. It meant that I respected the situation, and the power that he held over me at that moment. I certainly didn’t want to wind up as a side of ham in some crazy children’s book.
“So what are you doing here, exactly? There’s big money in curing the headaches of the masses, though there’s even bigger money in curing the government’s headaches,” Fisk asked.
“Genetic engineering to enhance cognitive efficiency,” I replied.
“Yeah, I got that part. Go on.”
“The supplement that we’re testing contains trace amounts of iToxx.”
“iToxx?” Fisk nearly fell over. “The compound is unstable. It’s only been used to regenerate dead cells and rekindle underutilized parts of the brain. On mice, though. It’s sort of like reanimating a corpse, but the effects are short-lived. If one’s mind is already working at full capacity, its effects will be slight, and in some cases, detrimental. Why use it on an intellect such as mine? It could be disastrous...ahhh!” He rubbed the side of his head.
No, not all subjects react the same, thus the study. Few looked notably worse as a result, but Fisk looked downright homicidal.
“Where can I get more of it?” Drool spilled out of his mouth in long threads.
I was too scared to tell him that the frog had devoured most of the experimental supply. But perhaps I still had a chance to be rid of that pesky frog once and for all.
Suddenly, Halwitz and Fred the bonehead frog stepped into the observation room.
“Well, I’ve got to hand it to you. Your scores are off the charts. You might have the highest score that’s ever been recorded,” said Halfwitz.
“Great! Does that mean that you’ll be keeping me for further study?” Fred asked.
“Even better. I’d like to offer you a job. How would you like to work for the United States government? We offer paid holidays, sick leave, and...”
“I heard some branches give out free Twinkies?”
Halfwitz looked at the frog for a moment, not sure if he was being serious. “Sure, why not? Consider it a signing bonus. So when can you start?”
“How about now?” I waved my portly hooves, a gun pressed against my head.
“That job was intended for me!” Fisk winced, pain shooting through his head and down his spine.
“Yeah, but you seem...I don’t know...a little unstable?” said the frog.
I couldn’t help but laugh. That crazy frog was the king of unstable, the wonders of modern science gifting him his newfound intellect.
And as it turned out, there were side effects--super powers as they called them in the comics.
“Come on, agent. Do something!” I begged.
“Don’t you think I should have a better name than just ‘agent?'” said the frog.
“How about Agent Number 9? You did score a nine on your aptitude test,” I replied.
“Isn’t there already a Secret Agent Number 9?”
“Well, there’s a Mighty No. 9, but that’s a videogame.”
“Nah, it doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
“So what do you like to do in your free time?”
“Well, I’m the king of disco dancing...” The frog busted a move.
“Fine, Secret Agent Disco Dancer. Now get me out of this!” I screamed.
That’s right. It was I who gifted his name, among other things.
I created the headache known to few as Secret Agent Disco Dancer, and to many as your garden variety Crazy Pet Frog.
It was then I knew I would have been better off with a bullet in the head, and that indeed a long career was in store for that fruity frog.
Secret Agent Disco Dancer pounced with amazing speed, easily dodging the bullet shot his way and disarming Fisk in the blink of an eye.
Fisk fell to the ground, the headaches now too much to bear.
“Get him some help, would you?” Secret Agent Disco Dancer nodded and handed me the gun.
Chapter 8: Partners in Crime
“I could have saved us a lot of trouble back then, sir.” I sat back in the cushioned leather chair, and took a sip of coffee. “Sure, I could have shot him, but then again, I’d be locked up, and wouldn’t have the access that I do now. Access that is critical to your operation.”
“Yesss... Well, as long as you admit your mistake, I’ll see what I can do about correcting it.” His raspy voice turned into a chuckle.
“Bring me Secret Agent Disco Dancer’s head on a platter and I’ll give you anything you want.” I finished my cup of coffee and wiped my chin.
“Anything?”
The sentiment lingered.
“And if I ask for the moon?”
“Then you shall have it.” I nodded.
“Very well. I’ll make sure that no one knows what happened to him, least of all his family. He will just...disappear...”
“It’s a pleasure doing business with you.” I stood and shook his hand.
“Believe me, the pleasure’s all mine, Earnest T. Bacon.” Frogwart Fisk gave me a big, toothy smile.
THE END
On Green Eggs...Eek!
I’d been hearing for a while from readers that my original picture book, My Crazy Pet Frog, had a dark undertone to it. A frog suffering from brain disease, most likely dementia, leaves a family that searches tirelessly for him? Is that what I wrote?
No, that’s not the story at all.
So I decided to do a little backstory to explain a few things and put some old rumors to rest.
As you might have guessed, Fredrico the Frog really is a secret agent, Secret Agent Disco Dancer no less, and there’s no shortage of creatures out to get him. His amnesia stems from a future assignment where he will be double-crossed by the enigmatic Earnest T. Bacon, who is more trouble than he’s worth. (And rightfully deserves that T.)
So don’t worry. Everyone’s favorite frog didn’t leave his family due to marital troubles. Being the most sought after secret agent on the planet has its dangers, and there’s no shortage of gadgets and mind-erasing weaponry to throw our hero for a loop. (And I didn’t even mention the Twinkies!)
Like in my personal favorite The Long Kiss Goodnight, Secret Agent Disco Dancer finds his way back to his family, big time!
(Oops. Am I giving away too much?)
So look no further than that pernicious pig, Earnest Bacon, for many of Secret Agent Disco’s troubles.
Whew!
Now about green eggs--I actually had some when I drove out to Vail one weekend, and boy were they delicious! It was a modified Eggs Benedict that incorporated spinach in the Hollandaise sauce to give the eggs their green color. And, of course, the dish came with a healthy side of ham. You didn’t expect anything less, did you?
Perhaps I’ll return to Vail one day, and have Green Eggs and Ham with you. (Sillier things have happened.)
Personally, it feels great to see this series firing on all cylinders. I had wondered when I’d get back to the world of crazy frogs and secret agents. Now I have a list of stories I’d like to write, and keep coming up with new ones each day. I suspect I’ll continue going along as I am now, and put out a title a week until I’ve exhausted the subject.
But it’s difficult to imagine myself growing tired of Secret Agent Disco Dancer. He’s a part of me, excitable and crazy and willing to take leaps of logic at a moment’s notice. He’s a mirror reflecting back the quirky personality underneath. At very least, this is a place where I can be me, no questions asked.
And a secret agent.
And eat green eggs and ham.
Isn’t being an author terrific?
--Scott Gordon, Secret Agent Disco Dancer’s alter ego
P.S. So what does iToxx stand for? The i is for intelligence, and extra x for x-factor. Tox is for toxic. Yikes! What did I just put in that crazy frog?
Chapter 1: Piggy Wiggy
“Hey, Freddy boy. Over here!” A short, portly pig with sunglasses waved from across the street.
“It’s Secret Agent Disco Dancer to you, buddy,” the frog yelled back.
“Shh!” Earnest T. Bacon, the T undoubtedly for Trap, looked around to make sure no one had heard him. “You can’t afford to reveal your secret identity. It would be disastrous for all of us.”
“Oh yeah!” The crazy frog scratched his green noggin. “So, uh...what are you doing in this vacant part of Washington, D.C.?”
“I wanted to be here for your first day on the job.”
“Really? I didn’t know you cared.”
Bacon bit his fat tongue, not wanting to reveal anymore. “Come, now. Let’s bury the hatchet. You don’t want to be late for your first day of work, do you?”
“Yeah, I guess not.” Secret Agent Disco Dancer started across the street. Little did he know, two cars were waiting in ambush, ready to smash into him once he passed the parked cars on the curb. But as that crazy frog put his webbed foot onto the pavement, he stepped on a piece of bubblegum, which whipped him back around.
The two assassins caught a flash of him and floored it, crashing into each other.
“Can you believe the nerve of some people?” Secret Agent Disco Dancer peeled the pre-chewed gum off his heel and hopped over the two crashed cars. “Lead the way, daddio!” He tossed the gum in a nearby waste basket.
“Unbelievable.” Bacon couldn’t believe the frog’s luck.
Of course, he had planned for such an outcome, and had other measures in place.
“Shouldn’t we call that in just in case someone’s hurt?” Secret Agent Disco Dancer glanced over his shoulder at the accident as he walked alongside the pig.
“Already done.” Bacon wobbled along.
“Really? One day I want to be a secret agent just like you!”
Bacon stopped. “First, you must learn to keep it a secret.”
“Oh...right.” The frog put a hand over his mouth.
“So is this your first time to D.C.?”
“Indeed it is! I was hoping, if I get off early, that I could stop by the White House and meet the president.”
