next page »

Subject: FFFBI Agent Nelson

Dateline: May 22, 9:27 a.m.

Those were past successes. Today isn't proving to be such a good day, and two more pairs of pants later, Nelson arrives at the office. Despite being late, he's in a pretty good mood. Nelson likes his work. After all, the FFFBI is the premier law enforcement agency, and although the Bureau has an ongoing professional rivalry with the C.I.I.I.A. (the Center for Interception, Interruption and Interference Activities), they often partner with them, or with Europe's InterPoultry Agents, when the need arises. He's always ready to fight for Truth, Justice and Stuff Like That.

As Nelson arrives, the automatic doors of the Bureau shoosh open to reveal a massive high-ceilinged hall. It seems like the building was once a railway station or something like that. At the far end are the security scanners, like you'd find at an airport.

Between the doors and the scanners, it's less like an airport and more of a zoo. Or rather, it's a zoo in business suits. Animals of every shape and size are rolling into work.

The Fin, Fur and Feather Bureau of Investigation prides itself on its diversity. It's a scene that must have been familiar to Noah as he got his Ark ready for forty days and nights of crummy weather. He might not recognize the double-tall lattes, paw pilots and cell phones that half the creatures are clutching, but at least he'd recognize that unmistakable multi-animal aroma.

Today, all the species are being funneled into a single line that leads to just one security doorway. With ears his size, Nelson can't help but listen to the conversation taking place in front of him. Two impatient Agents are wondering what the holdup is.

"Can you see what the holdup is?" says a tapir. A tapir looks like a cross between a rhino and a panda, with the panda supplying handsome black-and-white coloring.

"It's the new security guy," says a giraffe. "He's pretty slow."

The new security guy IS pretty slow. Actually, he's a snail—and he's checking everyone's IDs, one by one. His eyestalks are wiggling left and right as he pores over each document and tag. Some Agents are being put through sophisticated security devices. A squid is currently holding up the line. She's pressing one tentacle after another onto the fingerprint scanner. Like everyone else today, she's very irritated.

"Look, I'm sorry," says the squid who is, in fact, a Senior Agent in the Bureau's CRUST Surveillance Squad.

"I can't remember which tentacle I normally use. Can't you just let me through? Everyone knows me here. I'm a Senior Agent in the Bureau's CRUST Surveillance Squad."

"Orders is orders, Missy. Try that one. I don't think you've tried that tentacle yet."

The squid is doubly irritated now. She certainly has one of the top undercover jobs in the Bureau, and everyone definitely does know who she is. Everyone, it seems, except the new security mollusk. And she is, most assuredly, not a "Missy." She bristles at the thought that anyone would dare call her that.

But one more tentacle and at last the security scanner bell rings. Its light glows green and she saunters through.

Splursh! A blur of black gunge flies through the air.

"Oops, I'm sorry," she says as she accidentally squirts the guard in both eyestalks with accidental pinpoint accuracy with two jets of accidental black squid ink. "What a clumsy girly I must be."

She smiles to herself and slithers off to her saltwater tank on the fourteenth floor.

Meanwhile, at the back of the line, there's still no movement.

"Now what?" says the tapir.

"Good grief," says the giraffe. "It's the insect Agents. Why don't they have their own door? I like those little critters—some of my best friends are creepy and/or crawly—but one misstep with my big old hooves and we've got a very sticky problem."

"You got that right," says the tapir. "When it was all insects in Administration, I once sat on the entire Salaries and Accounting Department. No one got paid for three weeks."

next page »