Fleming Describes a Craigian Bond

[Commander 0077]

Octopuss



James Bond rolled off the floor to a squatting position, the .22 Beretta flash in his crab-like hands. The pink man scrambled up the ladder as the Beretta spat. Bond missed, but sprayed several of the passengers. Bond stared open-mouthed at his bad shooting and stared at Honey.

Honey's beautiful mouth twisted. "I know how a black widow fixes her meals, how a potato bug fries hash browns, how an ousprey knows it's one o'clock, but I don't know you!" She and Ruby turned away from the man named Bond who was a complete stranger. Ruby giggled.

Bond picked his way through the collapsed detritus of bodies, savoring the brisking air as he shot up the ladder; he attempted to reload but dropped the magazine. He was on the upper deck and finally shoved the magazine home. Someone screamed in English, "Look out for the old guy! He's got a gun!" This was repeated in various languages, including southern New York. "Yo, why I do declair that mook has a firearm, Beauregard!"

HMS Pinafore loomed into view. The pink man had vanished to the control room where locked a swift heading towards the anchored lightcruiser on the Kowloon docks by a white cruise ship. The Royal Hausfrau To Bond there was something poignant and ephemeral about the navy ship. It was emblazoned with the colours whilst little children played on the deck with their sand shovels ("Careful, dear, don't get sand on the bosun's dockers, he shouldn't like that.")

The man ran and leaped to the anchor, a pinkish blur shooting up and over, vanishing from Bond's view.

A woman in pince-nez asked Bond daintily, "What are you going to do now?"

Bond gritted his teeth, the white stubble on his chin glinting in the sunlight.
I"m going to take him alive, of course!" With that, he made for the anchor, but he was not a blur, unless molasses can be called a blur.

Off on the second Star Ferry, Pierce Brosnan whispered to Sir Roger. "I think I'll have another of those Snickers."

"Snickering so soon, Pierce?" Moore replied affably.

As Bond finally reached the ship's bow, the watch yelled, "Address the colours, Commander!"

Bond's slack mouth slackened a little more, "What the bleep!? I'm not in the navy, you bleep F***!"

Saddened, the young watch said softly, "Oh. I was told to expect a Commander Bond would be coming this way soon."

S*** so! Bond thought grimily. They know I'm coming! Who or what!

A couple of sailors screamed as they saw Bond's face. "Good lord! That's going to make nightmares for me, Billy!"

"Yes, that's a real 'pusfeller."

Bond's thick lips sucked on a lemon.

[Commander 0077]

Interlude in M-Sharp

Meanwhile, back in London ....

It was a grey cast iron morning, which suited the mood of Admiral M**** M*******. Usually, one of his drivers delivered him to the nondescript building overlooking the west side of Regent's Park, just north of the Baker Street tube; but today he needed to walk and told his driver to let him off on Portland Place so he could enter the park's southern tip. Several gentlemen gave M a respectful nod. A gang of hooligans were about to spout a rude good morning, but then thought better of it as the keen sailor eyes took them in.

He had already now crossed Marylesbone Road and stood by the open air theatre, his spirits lifting at the spectacular 3-sided terrace. There was an orchestra! At this hour! A large crowd of office people had stopped on their way to work. A familiar woman was about to sing. Who is that, someone asked. Why, that's Nancy Sinatra! The lean old man was lost in reverie as Sinatra began.

First there was a swelling of violins, which somehow reminded M of Japan.

And then the words began (to the tune of You Only Live Twice)

Once you were James Bond
So sad but true
You were number One
Now you're number two

You swim in warm beer
Your mug's a shame
Then one beer appears
And it knows your name

verse
Away with charisma!
... what made you unique
You could be my neigh-bah
And my neighbor's .... a geek!

This Bond is for you
Commander no more
The cookie cutter
Has baked us a boor


The swelling violins closed like a dirge.

The crowd fell silent. The damnably clear eyes clouded for an instant.
He walked briskly to headquarters of the British Secret Service and took his private lift. Miss Moneypenny was chatting with Bill Tanner, his efficient chief of staff. They both looked up, wondering at the strange expression.

M opened his door and turned.
'Find 007,' he said curtly.

Moneypenny was about to say 'Which one ...?' But the thought was killed in an instant with the looks of both Tanner and M.

'Right away, sir.' And the two shared a smile as M closed the red leather door.

[james stock]

Interlude in M-Sharp

Meanwhile, back in London ....

It was a grey cast iron morning, which suited the mood of Admiral M**** M*******. Usually, one of his drivers delivered him to the nondescript building overlooking the west side of the park, just north of the Baker Street tube; but today he needed to walk and told his driver to let him off on Portland Place so he could enter the park's southern tip. Several gentlemen gave M a respectful nod. A gang of hooligans were about to spout a rude good morning, but then thought better of it as the keen sailor eyes took them in.

He had already now crossed Marylesbone Road and stood by the open air theatre, his spirits lifting at the spectacular 3-sided terrace. There was an orchestra! At this hour! A large crowd of office people had stopped on their way to work. A familiar woman was about to sing. Who is that, someone asked. Why, that's Nancy Sinatra! The lean old man was lost in reverie as Sinatra began.

First there was a swelling of violins, which somehow reminded M of Japan.

And then the words began (to the tune of You Only Live Twice)

Once you were James Bond
So sad but true
You were number One
Now you're number two

You swim in warm beer
You're mug's a shame
Then one beer appears
And it knows your name

verse
Away with charisma!
... what made you unique
You could be my neigh-bah
And my neighbor's .... a geek!

This Bond is for you
Commander no more
The cookie cutter
Has baked us a boor


The swelling violins closed like a dirge.

The crowd fell silent. The damnably clear eyes clouded for an instant.
He walked briskly to headquarters of the British Secret Service and took his private lift. Miss Moneypenny was chatting with Bill Tanner, his efficient chief of staff. They both looked up, wondering at the strange expression.

M opened his door and turned.
'Find 007,' he said curtly.

Moneypenny was about to say 'Which one ...?' But the thought was killed in an instant with the looks of both Tanner and M.

'Right away, sir.' And the two shared a smile as M closed the red leather door.

Great stuff commander! you could put a torture scene in the next chapter and describe the gurning that Craigs incidental in name only bond reacts

[Commander 0077]

The Deadliest Villain in the World


Bond crouched behind the .50 calibre deck gun when his cell phone rang. He looked at the number. So! his next target! He pressed the talk button on his incredible Q-Branch device, and an elderly woman answered.

"Hello. Hullo! Is this Billy?"

Bond swore savagely, "Bleep off, Granny! I know your tricks. No doubt you're the famous assassin Oleg Fat. You're next!"

"Next? What do you mean?"

"Don't play games with me, Fat! I have your number." A flash of pink by the bridge caught Bond's amphibious, bulbous eyes. He swung the deck gun around and began spraying. Dozens of crew members were perforated. The hot shells lit into Bond's face, adding to the cosmetic improvements.

The Officer of the Deck peered around a bulkhead, remarking, "He handles those shells like a monkey handles coconuts!"

A blue and gold tourist boat ebbed alongside, groaning with movie critics. A member of MI7 went around while everyone rubbed their eyes at the carnage of innocents. He asked the critics, who were much in favour of the new Bond. "Have you read the Fleming books?"

"Fleming?" who's that!?? 95.6% replied dourly.

The deck gun swung towards the tourist boat, because Bond thought he saw a shadow behind him. Not a few critics were perforated. One lay groaning in his entrails, "This Bond's right on target!" "He never misses," chimed in another, whose arm had been sawed off and flung into the harbour.

On the Star Ferry, the beautiful girl, Constance Everlei said to herself, Yes, Mister Bond. Soon you will meet the greatest villain in the world. She regretted ruefully she couldn't do a passable MWOOAHAHHAHHAA, instead she smiled sweetly and lit a real Moreland Special with the three gold rings given by the real 007, who was now in final appraoch to London.

[Skywalker]

The Deadliest Villain in the World


Bond crouched behind the .50 calibre deck gun when his cell phone rang. He looked at the number. So! his next target! He pressed the talk button on his incredible Q-Branch device, and an elderly woman answered.

"Hello. Hullo! Is this Billy?"

Bond swore savagely, "Bleep off, Granny! I know your tricks. No doubt you're the famous assassin Oleg Fat. You're next!"

"Next? What do you mean?"

"Don't play games with me, Fat! I have your number." A flash of pink by the bridge caught Bond's amphibious, bulbous eyes. He swung the deck gun around and began spraying. Dozens of crew members were perforated. The hot shells lit into Bond's face, adding to the cosmetic improvements.
The Officer of the Deck peered around a bulkhead, remarking, "He handles those shells like a monkey handles coconuts!"

A blue and gold tourist boat ebbed alongside, groaning with movie critics. A member of MI7 went around while everyone rubbed their eyes at the carnage of innocents. He asked the critics, who were much in favour of the new Bond. "Have you read the Fleming books?"

"Fleming?" who's that!?? 95.6% replied dourly.

The deck gun swung towards the tourist boat, because Bond thought he saw a shadow behind him. Not a few critics were perforated. One lay groaning in his entrails, "This Bond's right on target!" "He never misses," chimed in another, whose arm had been sawed off and flung into the harbour.

On the Star Ferry, the beautiful girl, Constance Everlei said to herself, Yes, Mister Bond. Soon you will meet the greatest villain in the world. She regretted ruefully she couldn't do a passable MWOOAHAHHAHHAA, instead she smiled sweetly and lit a real Moreland Special with the three gold rings given by the real 007, who was now in final appraoch to London.

Quality.

[Commander 0077]

Thanx, Young Skywalker It splits my sides, as I imagine Fleming's sides were split when he wrote. Of course, he wrote in Goldeneye, while Cmdr 0077 writes in Goldenthigh

I also had to put in the monkey and coconuts line from DAF

[Commander 0077]

A Man Unlike No Other

Lac Leman (or Lake Geneva to those who are not vantee de la societe) arches coquettishly like a rouged spinster from Geneva to Montreux. Its green blue surface batted a million playful eyelashes at the high sun.

A dozen pretty girls on flashing Cuisses d'or racing bicycles (they were holiday training for the Col des Aravis) likewise arched their backs reflexively -- what the Swiss call zuruck ausgedeht ist fur einen mann gut! --as the battleship grey Mark (V) Continental Bentley convertible with the 4.9 litre upgrade and 9.5 compression shot past, the wind blowing the short blue-black hair of the handsome Bas***d at the wheel, the dark comma above his right eyebrow cheerfully waving.

The girls' minds recorded the instant in time forever in their memories, a rich phosphorescence stirring in their wonderful taut fleshlings. All knew without a doubt that somehow, this was a man like no other they would ever know for the rest of their lives (except perhaps for the winsome Commander 0077, but he was halfway around the world). The strong brown hands that knew how to give and to take, the level eyebrows, a flash of a ruthless mouth that could also smile with genuine warmth rising to the blue-grey eyes. He was no doubt slim and fit, and would never waste his hours in a gymnasium building obscene edemic beach boy muscles, unless he was some gangster's henchman.

They sighed as James Bond gave a wave and then he was gone around the bend at Gland -- how appropriate they giggled to themselves. Bond executed a neat racing change around the sweep and suddenly there it was, the grand Castle of Chillon! Its mass brooded over its own reflection in the lake. His spirits lifted, his nostrils flared at the hunt to come. One could count on one finger the times M would travel out of England . Now the meandering along the copses and felines and rich married women would come to an end. A job. A good tough job! And after the meeting Bond would inquire to his good friend Henri Everlard of Station G where a certain contingent of pretty cyclists might be ruminating.

[Commander 0077]

The Real James Bond

Will Return Soon In

LE CONNAISSEUR

(Peon Fleming was marking off the 'times viewed' so it seems another installment is underway)

[Red Grant]

Commander 0077 this is really great stuff .... inspired me to give it a wing myself...



Death Won’t Leave a Skid Mark

The black car motored across the distance swerving past other nervous cars around the palm trees as it tried to get away. Behind them was a huge puff of smoke and passerby's could hear curses coming from the dusty rear. "Dammit!" Bond said in his green Ford while the open windows caused the dust all around him to cake his face.

"M doesn't pay me enough for this CRAP." His doughy face and puffed lips were in a grimace as he tried his best to keep up with the black car trying his best to swerve past slow cars but smashing fenders and trashcans.

He opened the car window and started shooting at other cars' exhausts around the black car as they all went up in flames but the enemy car only caught some of the gasoline fire on it. Bond grabbed a juicy Quarter Pounder from the seat next to him as he threw down his gun as he hadn't had lunch yet. A load of trash blew all over his windshield.

Black figures started firing automatic fire from the back window of the black car. Bond's windshield fractured and he heard the metallic rings around his car. He sped up to the side watching the occupants of the black car shooting machineguns into his side door while he fired his .44 Magnum hitting one of them as an explosion of blood peppered their cars. "Death wun't leave uh skid mahk assholes!"

An islander lady with groceries was appearing in his way as he tried to come to the side of the furious black car. "GET OUTTA THE WAY!" Just barely missing her as she dived to the side as her groceries smashed into his car, with loads of cereal pouring through the holes and smashed parts of his windshield into his eyes, mouth, and nostrils temporarily blinding him while the black car sped away. "Cocoa cocoa puffs can't be beat".

He saw a park nearby and decided to take a shortcut through it dodging bikers, joggers, and picnickers. A small rolling hill appeared and he ran for it as a huge catapult, he increased his speed and rolled into the air with it but fell short while it crashed through the park gate and into the side of another car. He got out when he saw the fiery automobile crash into an embassy. Watching the flaming people run out and roll on the ground as a bunch of guards ran out spraying extinguishers on them, he grabbed his Magnum .44 and started running toward the group firing wildly but he remembered cranky M's orders.

"Lemony-head, i mean Bond, listen up and stop punching the wall, you will need to survey these diamond smugglers to see their drop-off point, don't interfere and ONLY observe where they're sending the cache, it took us many resources to place a target on one of their smuggling routes."

Bond licked his greasy lips from the delicious fries he had, he preferred to put salt instead of ketchup on them. He was tired of having to lick his fingers of the red substance instead preferring the delicacy that comes with salted fried food. Seeing the fire extinguishers he aimed and started clicking away while the guards and burnt people exploded in a red and fiery mess.

He started getting shots ringing around him from more guards coming from the embassy and fired at his own exhaust blowing up the Ford and escaped through the wreckage into some jungly weeds flipping open his Erickson.

"M they all went to the embussy. I blew them all up as a bonus for you. That's one less smuggling thingy they'll have." "@$%&$#&%" replied M for a long berating session. This type of conversation became standard for Bond by this point. After many minutes of listening his stoney-face layed fixated to the area he was facing. He was given a new assignment of confronting a high-profile gambler at one of the most luxurious Casinos ever who may be funding this smuggling operation for some shadowy organization, M told him to meet her in her office for further news."

Bond's thick lips rounded upward in joy instead thinking to surprise M in her own home with his infiltration skills. He took out his Sony PSP to pass the time until his airplane arrived to jet back to England...

[The Sweeney]

Commander 0077 this is really great stuff .... inspired me to give it a wing myself...



Death Won’t Leave a Skid Mark

The black car motored across the distance swerving past other nervous cars around the palm trees as it tried to get away. Behind them was a huge puff of smoke and passerby's could hear curses coming from the dusty rear. "Dammit!" Bond said in his green Ford while the open windows caused the dust all around him to cake his face.

"M doesn't pay me enough for this CRAP." His doughy face and puffed lips were in a grimace as he tried his best to keep up with the black car trying his best to swerve past slow cars but smashing fenders and trashcans.

He opened the car window and started shooting at other cars' exhausts around the black car as they all went up in flames but the enemy car only caught some of the gasoline fire on it. Bond grabbed a juicy Quarter Pounder from the seat next to him as he threw down his gun as he hadn't had lunch yet. A load of trash blew all over his windshield.

Black figures started firing automatic fire from the back window of the black car. Bond's windshield fractured and he heard the metallic rings around his car. He sped up to the side watching the occupants of the black car shooting machineguns into his side door while he fired his .44 Magnum hitting one of them as an explosion of blood peppered their cars. "Death wun't leave uh skid mahk assholes!"

An islander lady with groceries was appearing in his way as he tried to come to the side of the furious black car. "GET OUTTA THE WAY!" Just barely missing her as she dived to the side as her groceries smashed into his car, with loads of cereal pouring through the holes and smashed parts of his windshield into his eyes, mouth, and nostrils temporarily blinding him while the black car sped away. "Cocoa cocoa puffs can't be beat".

He saw a park nearby and decided to take a shortcut through it dodging bikers, joggers, and picnickers. A small rolling hill appeared and he ran for it as a huge catapult, he increased his speed and rolled into the air with it but fell short while it crashed through the park gate and into the side of another car. He got out when he saw the fiery automobile crash into an embassy. Watching the flaming people run out and roll on the ground as a bunch of guards ran out spraying extinguishers on them, he grabbed his Magnum .44 and started running toward the group firing wildly but he remembered cranky M's orders.

"Lemony-head, i mean Bond, listen up and stop punching the wall, you will need to survey these diamond smugglers to see their drop-off point, don't interfere and ONLY observe where they're sending the cache, it took us many resources to place a target on one of their smuggling routes."

Bond licked his greasy lips from the delicious fries he had, he preferred to put salt instead of ketchup on them. He was tired of having to lick his fingers of the red substance instead preferring the delicacy that comes with salted fried food. Seeing the fire extinguishers he aimed and started clicking away while the guards and burnt people exploded in a red and fiery mess.

He started getting shots ringing around him from more guards coming from the embassy and fired at his own exhaust blowing up the Ford and escaped through the wreckage into some jungly weeds flipping open his Erickson.

"M they all went to the embussy. I blew them all up as a bonus for you. That's one less smuggling thingy they'll have." "@$%&$#&%" replied M for a long berating session. This type of conversation became standard for Bond by this point. After many minutes of listening his stoney-face layed fixated to the area he was facing. He was given a new assignment of confronting a high-profile gambler at one of the most luxurious Casinos ever who may be funding this smuggling operation for some shadowy organization, M told him to meet her in her office for further news."

Bond's thick lips rounded upward in joy instead thinking to surprise M in her own home with his infiltration skills. He took out his Sony PSP to pass the time until his airplane arrived to jet back to England...

Quite amusing, RG....

[Red Grant]

thanks guys!

[Capt. Sir Dominic Flandry]

Commander 0077 this is really great stuff .... inspired me to give it a wing myself...



Death Won’t Leave a Skid Mark

The black car motored across the distance swerving past other nervous cars around the palm trees as it tried to get away. Behind them was a huge puff of smoke and passerby's could hear curses coming from the dusty rear. "Dammit!" Bond said in his green Ford while the open windows caused the dust all around him to cake his face.

"M doesn't pay me enough for this CRAP." His doughy face and puffed lips were in a grimace as he tried his best to keep up with the black car trying his best to swerve past slow cars but smashing fenders and trashcans.

He opened the car window and started shooting at other cars' exhausts around the black car as they all went up in flames but the enemy car only caught some of the gasoline fire on it. Bond grabbed a juicy Quarter Pounder from the seat next to him as he threw down his gun as he hadn't had lunch yet. A load of trash blew all over his windshield.

Black figures started firing automatic fire from the back window of the black car. Bond's windshield fractured and he heard the metallic rings around his car. He sped up to the side watching the occupants of the black car shooting machineguns into his side door while he fired his .44 Magnum hitting one of them as an explosion of blood peppered their cars. "Death wun't leave uh skid mahk assholes!"

An islander lady with groceries was appearing in his way as he tried to come to the side of the furious black car. "GET OUTTA THE WAY!" Just barely missing her as she dived to the side as her groceries smashed into his car, with loads of cereal pouring through the holes and smashed parts of his windshield into his eyes, mouth, and nostrils temporarily blinding him while the black car sped away. "Cocoa cocoa puffs can't be beat".

He saw a park nearby and decided to take a shortcut through it dodging bikers, joggers, and picnickers. A small rolling hill appeared and he ran for it as a huge catapult, he increased his speed and rolled into the air with it but fell short while it crashed through the park gate and into the side of another car. He got out when he saw the fiery automobile crash into an embassy. Watching the flaming people run out and roll on the ground as a bunch of guards ran out spraying extinguishers on them, he grabbed his Magnum .44 and started running toward the group firing wildly but he remembered cranky M's orders.

"Lemony-head, i mean Bond, listen up and stop punching the wall, you will need to survey these diamond smugglers to see their drop-off point, don't interfere and ONLY observe where they're sending the cache, it took us many resources to place a target on one of their smuggling routes."

Bond licked his greasy lips from the delicious fries he had, he preferred to put salt instead of ketchup on them. He was tired of having to lick his fingers of the red substance instead preferring the delicacy that comes with salted fried food. Seeing the fire extinguishers he aimed and started clicking away while the guards and burnt people exploded in a red and fiery mess.

He started getting shots ringing around him from more guards coming from the embassy and fired at his own exhaust blowing up the Ford and escaped through the wreckage into some jungly weeds flipping open his Erickson.

"M they all went to the embussy. I blew them all up as a bonus for you. That's one less smuggling thingy they'll have." "@$%&$#&%" replied M for a long berating session. This type of conversation became standard for Bond by this point. After many minutes of listening his stoney-face layed fixated to the area he was facing. He was given a new assignment of confronting a high-profile gambler at one of the most luxurious Casinos ever who may be funding this smuggling operation for some shadowy organization, M told him to meet her in her office for further news."

Bond's thick lips rounded upward in joy instead thinking to surprise M in her own home with his infiltration skills. He took out his Sony PSP to pass the time until his airplane arrived to jet back to England...

[Commander 0077]

Tee Hee

Most inspiring ... so much that Cmdr 0077 shall have to take out the old golden Remingtom to continue.

[stockslivevan]

Speaking of the PSP...

[Red Grant]

Interlude in M-Sharp

Meanwhile, back in London ....

It was a grey cast iron morning, which suited the mood of Admiral M**** M*******. Usually, one of his drivers delivered him to the nondescript building overlooking the west side of Regent's Park, just north of the Baker Street tube; but today he needed to walk and told his driver to let him off on Portland Place so he could enter the park's southern tip. Several gentlemen gave M a respectful nod. A gang of hooligans were about to spout a rude good morning, but then thought better of it as the keen sailor eyes took them in.

He had already now crossed Marylesbone Road and stood by the open air theatre, his spirits lifting at the spectacular 3-sided terrace. There was an orchestra! At this hour! A large crowd of office people had stopped on their way to work. A familiar woman was about to sing. Who is that, someone asked. Why, that's Nancy Sinatra! The lean old man was lost in reverie as Sinatra began.

First there was a swelling of violins, which somehow reminded M of Japan.

And then the words began (to the tune of You Only Live Twice)

Once you were James Bond
So sad but true
You were number One
Now you're number two

You swim in warm beer
Your mug's a shame
Then one beer appears
And it knows your name

verse
Away with charisma!
... what made you unique
You could be my neigh-bah
And my neighbor's .... a geek!

This Bond is for you
Commander no more
The cookie cutter
Has baked us a boor


The swelling violins closed like a dirge.

The crowd fell silent. The damnably clear eyes clouded for an instant.
He walked briskly to headquarters of the British Secret Service and took his private lift. Miss Moneypenny was chatting with Bill Tanner, his efficient chief of staff. They both looked up, wondering at the strange expression.

M opened his door and turned.
'Find 007,' he said curtly.

Moneypenny was about to say 'Which one ...?' But the thought was killed in an instant with the looks of both Tanner and M.

'Right away, sir.' And the two shared a smile as M closed the red leather door.

....beautiful

[Red Grant]

The Spy Who Mauled Me

Bond flipped cards on the oak table as he sat splayed, his lips puffy and the ceiling lamp reflecting gold against his hair. Beer cans were littered around him, his belt undone. His squinting eyes met a surprised M entering her apartment. M shook a bit. "What the hell are you doing here?" His mouth spread and he grinned a bit while burping. "Bond!? What in the blazes are you doing here! I should have you demoted for this you hungover mess!"

M threw down the newspaper on Bond's cards. "What are you doing blowing up embassies! The Haiti embassy?! Are you deranged or just stupid?!" "But zombies! They come from there!" Bond finished another can and crushed it against his forehead. M quickly eyed her liquor plate and hurried to it filling a glass with bourbon. "If you screw up once more i'll have your scrabbled head cleaning those toilets in one second, you'll think you're a pirate again, you worthless arse!" She walked back and forth with a swagger flipping open her Vaio. "You are are this close to being relieved of the Casino job in Montenegro. I may have to give you a supporting job if your oafish antics can't handle this!"

A stench silently filled the air, Bond had just let one. M gagged a bit and drank more bourbon. Bond looked at his pile of cards. "I can't believe i promoted you! Now you better pray you're still on assignment, seeing as i have five other 00-agents all more than able to carry it out cooly and efficiently." Bond was on his own train of thought. "I hear uh double O-agent has uh short life expectuncy." M swiggled more bourbon. "Cripes do i miss the Cold War, they'll let anyone in nowadays. Well what are you doing here? Out you twiddling twat!" Bond sat blankly and stood up. M picked up the paper and swiped it on his head. "And you dope, If i ever catch you in my home again you'll be reduced to cleaning the toilets of MI6 you buffooning numbskull!"

His melon head swirled a brand new thought. He was truly a human blunt instrument wielded by the government, or a "00 agent" for a title, just like the five other 00 agents who seemed very suave and professional. And now he himself at this time seemed kind of out of place with the others. Having just been picked up at the rowdy Hare & Hounds pub 2 years ago, he was noted for his prowess in kitchen knife fighting and nicknamed Yellow Scissors. His training response to wall-breaking and muscle-pumping was excellent.

He always did his duty for king and country no matter how many walls stood in his way it seemed. Having blown up many embassies, after a while the line between good and evil was blurred to him, he no longer had the benefit of reason. The veins increased on his doughy temple. M's frequent berating reached an edge that clicked on the switch to the blunt brain, and she became just another number for that moment.

M kept barking orders at him while swiggling her glass and looking at her cellphone. Her face blanked in horror as she saw a pink gorilla lunge toward her and realized a second later it was Bond only when soupy blood was wafting out of her nose and mouth, while the coffee table laid in shambles. He then threw his arms around her and ran her toward the other end of the room smashing past a desk and chair and threw her against the wall turning her into a punching bag. M tried to move to the side but a fast right caught her senseless, and then a left to her slack-jawed mouth. She tried to swing back but Bond quickly lifted his arms in karate-chop defense.

He clenched her head by the hair and his other fist snapped underhand into her stomach some 20 times. Then he jump-kicked her in the face with blood squirting upward. While her limp body was rocking, another kick-slam checked her in place. Bond stood watching her pouring and smudgy face swivel, then face-palmed it into a glass painting frame, and pulled it back as cracked bits and pieces fell down. He grabbed M and slumped her against a flatscreen tv, then roundhouse kicked her head through the screen. As the body slouched inside the shatters of the tv, he exhaled in relief and caught his breath a bit, then he pulled her head out and now it seemed messily dipped in red syrup with her silvery hair in sticky clumps. He tossed her down on the couch.

A wheezy muffled sound escaping her bloated face. He picked up a lamp pole and sung it downward as it crashed repeatedly into her beanbag body for a minute turning her pulpy. He then threw it aside while breathing a bit. Eyeing a bottle of cognac and pouring a glass, he gulped it down hastily while sweat dots glistened over his brows. 'Job well done' he thought. Then turning his stumpy form he lumbered toward the elevator. He glanced at her lying body as the doors closed. "Uh see you tomorrow."

[Capt. Sir Dominic Flandry]

The Spy Who Mauled Me

Bond flipped cards on the oak table as he sat splayed, his lips puffy and the ceiling lamp reflecting gold against his hair. Beer cans were littered around him, his belt undone. His squinting eyes met a surprised M entering her apartment. M shook a bit. "What the hell are you doing here?" His mouth spread and he grinned a bit while burping. "Bond!? What in the blazes are you doing here! I should have you demoted for this you hungover mess!"

M threw down the newspaper on Bond's cards. "What are you doing blowing up embassies! The Haiti embassy?! Are you deranged or just stupid?!" "But zombies! They come from there!" Bond finished another can and crushed it against his forehead. M quickly eyed her liquor plate and hurried to it filling a glass with bourbon. "If you screw up once more i'll have your scrabbled head cleaning those toilets in one second, you'll think you're a pirate again, you worthless arse!" She walked back and forth with a swagger flipping open her Vaio. "You are are this close to being relieved of the Casino job in Montenegro. I may have to give you a supporting job if your oafish antics can't handle this!"

A stench silently filled the air, Bond had just let one. M gagged a bit and drank more bourbon. Bond looked at his pile of cards. "I can't believe i promoted you! Now you better pray you're still on assignment, seeing as i have five other 00-agents all more than able to carry it out cooly and efficiently." Bond was on his own train of thought. "I hear uh double O-agent has uh short life expectuncy." M swiggled more bourbon. "Cripes do i miss the Cold War, they'll let anyone in nowadays. Well what are you doing here? Out you twiddling twat!" Bond sat blankly and stood up. M picked up the paper and swiped it on his head. "And you dope, If i ever catch you in my home again you'll be reduced to cleaning the toilets of MI6 you buffooning numbskull!"

His melon head swirled a brand new thought. He was truly a human blunt instrument wielded by the government, or a "00 agent" for a title, just like the five other 00 agents who seemed very suave and professional. And now he himself at this time seemed kind of out of place with the others. Having just been picked up at the rowdy Hare & Hounds pub 2 years ago, he was noted for his prowess in kitchen knife fighting and nicknamed Yellow Scissors. His training response to wall-breaking and muscle-pumping was excellent.

He always did his duty for king and country no matter how many walls stood in his way it seemed. Having blown up many embassies, after a while the line between good and evil was blurred to him, he no longer had the benefit of reason. The veins increased on his doughy temple. M's frequent berating reached an edge that clicked on the switch to the blunt brain, and she became just another number for that moment.

M kept barking orders at him while swiggling her glass and looking at her cellphone. Her face blanked in horror as she saw a pink gorilla lunge toward her and realized a second later it was Bond only when soupy blood was wafting out of her nose and mouth, while the coffee table laid in shambles. He then threw his arms around her and ran her toward the other end of the room smashing past a desk and chair and threw her against the wall turning her into a punching bag. M tried to move to the side but a fast right caught her senseless, and then a left to her slack-jawed mouth. She tried to swing back but Bond quickly lifted his arms in karate-chop defense.

He clenched her head by the hair and his other fist snapped underhand into her stomach some 20 times. Then he jump-kicked her in the face with blood squirting upward. While her limp body was rocking, another kick-slam checked her in place. Bond stood watching her pouring and smudgy face swivel, then face-palmed it into a glass painting frame, and pulled it back as cracked bits and pieces fell down. He grabbed M and slumped her against a flatscreen tv, then roundhouse kicked her head through the screen. As the body slouched inside the shatters of the tv, he exhaled in relief and caught his breath a bit, then he pulled her head out and now it seemed messily dipped in red syrup with her silvery hair in sticky clumps. He tossed her down on the couch.

A wheezy muffled sound escaping her bloated face. He picked up a lamp pole and sung it downward as it crashed repeatedly into her beanbag body for a minute turning her pulpy. He then threw it aside while breathing a bit. Eyeing a bottle of cognac and pouring a glass, he gulped it down hastily while sweat dots glistened over his brows. 'Job well done' he thought. Then turning his stumpy form he lumbered toward the elevator. He glanced at her lying body as the doors closed. "Uh see you tomorrow."

Splendid!

It's time for a fan fiction section and competition.

[Red Grant]

thanks Flandry, always wanted to show that hidden beast within him...