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I’ve decided to rewrite the opening part of the story. This is what might end up being one of the first chapters, It’s 1100. Do You Know Where Your Government Is?

I’ll have to flesh it out a bit more, but it’s a conversation between Agents Orange and Black.

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“Besides being entirely harebrained, your plan would send me to New York City,” said the mutant alligator.

“Why is that a problem?” asked the man on the secure line.

“You know damn well it’s a freakshow. And it’s so effing cold that you can see your breath. That’s your body’s way of telling you to find some sunlight!”

“New York has a lot of potential recruits. And, frankly, we wouldn’t be having this conversation if there were potential recruits wherever you are. Which is…”

“An undisclosed location,” said the alligator.

“I can hear screaming fans over the phone. Let’s see, an undisclosed mob-scene on a Saturday afternoon. Gator Stadium?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. And it’s called the Swamp or, if you want to be technical, the Mammal Graveyard.”

“It seems like this is a bad time.”

“For the Bulldogs, very bad. We’re up 10… ooh, ouch. Make that 16. (NICE HIT!)”

“I meant a bad time to talk about agency recruiting.”

“A Miami drug cache wasted my morning. I spent three hours in depositions explaining to a judge that a ‘plain sight’ warrantless seizure clearly applies even if the agent smelt the drugs two blocks away.”

“A novel constitutional theory.”

“It’s what the Founding Fathers would have wanted. That reminds me of a joke. Where do you bury a ton of cocaine if you don’t want mammals to find it?”

“Within two blocks of you?”

“The endzone!”

“I’m hanging up now.”

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