Bargis Tryhol Agent 004: Let the real fun begin!

Funny story written by Jaggedone

Friday, 10 July 2009


The funny story you are trying to access may cause offense, may be in poor taste, or may contain subject matter of a graphic nature. This story was written as a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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"OK, OK, QT, we've penetrated but are we being tracked, Blowme-job is an artful dodger I,m sure he'll be busy shagging groupies, no, maybe our chance is to slip one over and join the mother fucker!"

"Why the hell are we here anyway, QT?" Bargis gleefully giggled with a chidish, slightly mocking grin.

"Keep focused, no horny diversions, just exterminate Blowme-job, keep him from acting out his devilish secret plans for conquering the world, creating massive black holes in the universe, causing the apocalypse now, with Marlon in the caves, George in the Bush and even listen to Numan and his cars whilst crashing aeroplanes?"

Bargis with his gold tooth gleaming, yellow Armani suit shining, hand made leather shoes polishing, approached back stage with caution, QT tailing behind giving cover just in case the 5000 mob of Numan freaks noticed the freaks!

Blowme-job was doing just that as Bargis approached, "you scoundrel, Blowme-job, thats some pussy you're blowing, where are your dastardly plans, you Cad!"

"There's no point in attempting to escape, QT has my behind covered, and you with your head stuck in that pussy are in no shape to Lance Armstrong it!"

Just at that moment Blowme-Job withdrew his head, tongue, dripping, gold teeth glowing, smiling his usual, evil smile and said, "be my guest Bargis!"

A pussy that no-one could resist in the form of Veruschka Moistpantieski turned her open thighs towards Bargis, the black hole was irresistible, he pounced and in one foul swoop, disappeared!

Legging it, Blowme-job, karate-kidded QT in the cohones, sprinted on to the stage amidst Numan, nicked one of his cars, sped to a waiting plane ready for Gary before 5000 animals start throwing beer bottles at the useless bastard.

He lept into the plane, secrets tucked away in his white stained tuxedo trouser legs, dashed for the runway and, waved to the baying crowd as they prepared for releasing their missiles in the form of Stella Artois and Belgium Bon-Bons at Numan and his cronies!

Meanwhile Bargis slowly removed his head, whilst QT reeled on the floor holding his bruised privates, ouch!

"What the fuck happened QT, I can't leave you alone for 5 seconds, where is Blowme-job, I had him by the balls, but then Veruschka begged, more and more, deeper!"

Removing a pubic hair from his diamond studded tooth, straightening his Armani tie, hoisting his Bjorn Borg undies, Bargis, sprinted for the exit and to his amazement, saw the flashing lights of Numans plane, loaded with Blowme-job and Veruschka, vanishing in the fading distance.

At that moment Q, alias Mudder, called via the secret, M, satellite cell-phone, T-mobile, "have you got those secret papers Bargis, have you exterminated, ejaculated or been in a black hole?"

That question will never be answered, only clues were the sticky white blobs on Bargis'es designer moustache and one single Sowjet pube stuck at the back of his throat, tickling!

QT meanwhile thrashing and booting his way through the madding crowd, signalled to Bargis, "this way Sir."

The crowd parted like the Red Sea and Moses, deftily tiptoeing through the masses Bargis threw his pink rubber entrance bracelet into the hysterical crowd, hopped into his awaiting DB6 and heard the final beats of Cars before Gary, mascara running, disappeared under a heap of broken Stellas, urine, horny groupies and gay men!

"Dash it QT I always miss the encore, nevermind, work to do, back to headquarters a.s.a.p. Face the music from Q and Moneypenny, drop in at the dry cleaners on the way, change my undies and remove that tickle from the back of my throat, cough!"

Holding a dry Martini, unshaken but stirred, Bargis and QT whizzed off into the setting sun dreaming of more blackholes, adventures and capturing that dastardly villian, Blowme-Job.

Back at M headquarters, a yellow submarine submerged in a duck pond alongside Nelson, Q, alias Mudder, was briskly tightening her crossed over legs. Moneypenny the opposite, dreaming of Bargis throwing his Panama hat and tails over her moist, hook and cranny.

Within a whisker, Bargis accompanied by QT, entered M headquarters, clean suit and Panama hat at the ready.

"Moneypenny, do I detect a certain aroma penetrating the moist air or is it just your blossom weeping?"

The hat flew gently across the room, landed on the knob, where it always landed as moneypenny drew a deep breath and whispered, "Q alias Mudder is waiting with tight, crossed legs and is pretty hot under the desk!"

Bargis entered leaving QT to continue his unfinished, one-liners, not quite the Victor-ious-Nicholas-Crosses that Moneypenny was used to, "but any dickhead will do", she panted!

Bargis approached and noticed a slight lessening tension as Q uncrossed her varicose vein ridden thighs and offered Bargis a glass of finest Chivas Urinial, jahrgang 58, he gladly accepted.

Q approached, whispered in his right ear, "you tosser, you had your head in Veruschkas pussy and let Blowme-job escape with his secret plans in a crashed Numan plane!"

Bargis thought an impish thought, "at least it wasn't your pussy, Q."

"Bargis I warn you, whilst in initial training, I learnt mindreading!"

"Sorry Mam, another Chivas Urinial, jahrgang 61, please!"

Q and Bargis refrained from letting their feelings and thoughts get in the way of business, they now had to work out a plan for catching the most evil person on the planet, Blowme-Job!

In the interim Blowme-job had returned to his volcanic, desert island and was gang-banging with Pussy Galore and her associates.

His plans were safe now and at this very, ouch! "gentle Pussy!" moment, being put into place with the help of his even more evil sidekick, THEBOWLERHATTEDCHINKWITHTHEBARBEDWIRETEETH = ABB. = WAN-KIN-DIK.

Chapter 7 to follow!

The funny story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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