Add your lines and we'll write a novel together. Publication might be possible. :yes:
It was a sunny day but there was danger in the air.
Harry felt a stranger's touch on his shoulder, but it didn't startle him.
It should have done,
for the stranger's face was that of a bear.
You meet all sorts at a trade fare, he thought to himself.
Especially one for phone cover salesmen.
Knowing what he must do, Harry quickly pulls out his mobile device.
He admires its sleek lines, its lovely feel, and as always accidentally presses some button on its side that does something unexpected.
How he ever managed to land this job as a spy was anybody's guess.
It certainly wasn't due to any skill or ability, and it wasn't as if he had any connections. Envious workmates often muttered darkly "Probably something to do with that business in Beirut".
But never very loudly.
Not that he cared much about them or their opinions, he's not here to make friends.
The bear was getting impatient.
Harry scooted over to the left.
Then slowly turns back to see what he feared the most now happening.
A ghastly sight indeed, he said to himself.
"Ghastly," he said to himself. "what a lovely word! I wonder where it came from. Middle English?"
"I must look it up." he said. Aloud.
The bear was astonished.
Just then a shot rang out bringing Harry back to his senses. The bear-man falls to the ground. As Harry realizes that must of been his contact the next shot came just missing him. Harry sprang into action, Beirut still fresh in his mind.
Unscrewing the bear-man's nose he took out the message chip and leaped to the window.
Which, being the tenth floor, was shut.
He quickly made an opening with his standard issue diamond tipped Acme window opener and prepared to make his daring ascent to meet the helicopter on the roof.
On reaching the roof, he realised his way to the helicopter was blocked by a kilted Scottish Ninja. He reached for his ...
"kilted Scottish ninja gibberish decoder" in case this apparition intended to communicate with him.But it was not necessary.
The Scot now smiled as he stared with those evil eyes. Fear coursed thru Harry. He, for the first time, regretted not giving personal combat more attention during training. Skill clearly wasn't gonna get him out of this either.
With a skill born of long practice, he whisked out the bottle of single malt and rolled it along the ground away from the helicopter.
The Scot leapt after the bottle and Harry dashed for the helicopter.
The helicopter pilot couldn't help himself and started cheering. Harry was an overweight guy, so his athletics were an amazing show.
Harry was offended. "Smartarse bastard," he muttered. "Just wait until I get into that chopper".
While Harry was pulling himself up by the helicopter's landing gear, the Scot realized his error and turned around.
"This bodes ill." he muttered, and realised that he had never heard anyone use that phrase, "Hardly surprising," he thought, "it really sounds silly when you say it out loud.."
But Harry liked the sound, so he said it over and over...
"This bodes ill."
"This bodes ill."
"This bodes ill."
"This bodes ill."
"This bodes ill."
"This bodes ill."
Oh my god! Echolalia!
The pilot was losing patience
Worse than that, his brother, a doctor, was losing patients.
Worse was yet to come, as a quick glance at the fuel gauge revealed.
A hole with two wires protruding through it, where the fuel gauge should be. Oh joy! he thought to himself., this day gets better and better.
Little did he know what was looming on the horizon.
The rhythmic chanting and the throbbing drumbeats should have given him a hint, but his full attention was taken by a much more immediate problem.
The exposed wires had touched causing a spark which had set fire to the paper bag in which he kept his fish and chip sandwich.
He tried to rescue the halibut, but the paper bag split in two and ... ....
....mirabile dictu.....
What am I thinking? He exclaimed, and pulled the ejection lever.
which, unsurprisingly, came free in his hand.
Feeling rejected he elected to eject in another direction.
"I never had much faith in the 'through-the-rotors' ejector system anyway", he muttered. "ever since I saw that it was manufactured by the Bung Thing meat mincer company."
Oh to #!*#!** with this he said and opened the door, jumped out and leapt off the side of the building.
Drifting down under his parachute he noticed that the high wind was blowing him towards a forest.
The trees in the forest were oddly twinkly
"Strange," he thought. "Every second tree is twinkly. It can't be a mere coincidence. The only other time I saw something like this was in that disastrous mission to Hyde Park in London."
He drifted into the forest, brushing the tops of the trees and got a twinkle in his eye when he saw
As he slowly dropped down he suddenly saw a fountain.
But it wasn't the kind of fountain shoots water into the air. Rather it gushed...
some kind of dark brownish viscous liquid, not unlike oil in appearance. Unfortunately he was headed straight for it.
"Maybe I was better off back there on the roof," he mused. "My God!" he said out loud. "I wonder what happened to that clumsy fat guy on the roof!"
"Not to worry, that was Santa and he went safely down the chimney."