Secret Agent Man

"DRIVE BUCKO, DRIVE!" Tuck cried from the back seat with a chopping arm motion.

Jason was stupefied and flabbergasted and many other elaborate adjectives, but somehow this only amounted to a frozen expression that looked to be pulled directly out of the Maniac Monsters Comic Strip. His eyes positively bulged. The dripping old man in the back seat slowly lost his enthusiasm and asked what the matter was.

Jason made a few high pitched noises at the back of his throat and then turned away, locking his eyes on the windshield and squeezing the life out of the steering wheel with white knuckles, his elbows up in racing position and his neck hunched as if he was again a cartoon character--this time, a cartoon character who thought himself a world war one flying ace.

"We're not going anywhere," Tuck pointed out helpfully.

Jason winced but continued to watch with growing emotion as the last roller lifted to the ceiling. Then he gently touched the gas and slid the vehicle out of the building, concentrating everything he had on keeping his control.

"So-o-o..." Tuck drawled, "Why did you release the roof?"

The silence that ensued was dripping with dirty curses and violent intentions on Jason's side. And on Tuck's side, it was full of exciting car chases and secret agents.

"I was searching for the lock button," Jason finally said through clenched teeth. "So that I could be safe from the raving lunatic who wanted to ruin my day."

There was a pause and a soft ripple of fabric. "Well, false alarm," Tuck said cheerily.

Jason blinked, but continued to stare straight ahead. "That's strange. Because I thought you were a raving lunatic. One that perhaps lived in a car wash and hijacked unsuspecting vehicles!"

There was another pause, a soft ripple of fabric, and a sigh. Jason was just growing suspicious enough to turn around when Tuck responded.

"Nope. Not any more," Tuck said pleasantly. "Now I'm a secret agent. And you are my driver."

Jason somehow found the strength to squeeze the wheel even harder, and as he tried his best to think this one through, his emotions finally burst through his defenses and he exploded. Whirling around with flying spit, he uttered a blood-curdling war cry and set his flaming eyes on Tuck. A set of black shades stared coolly back, and Jason choked on his cry in stunned disbelief as his senses were slapped across the face.

Tuck was wearing shades and a shiny black tuxedo. He also held a slick hand gun in one bent arm.

"I repeat," he said, "drive bucko, drive."

The End

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