Bargis Tryhol - Agent 004 - Chapter 12 - Bargis goes down, but isn't out!

Funny story written by Frankie The J

Thursday, 13 August 2009


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The last known photograph of the boat Bargis and Morse were driving before it exploded

After fully servicing the skanky serving wench who ran the Bed & Breakfast where Bargis and the Beatles stayed the previous evening, Bargis was contacted by satellite phone by his boss, QM. She told him to head back to Heathrow Airport, meet up with QT, and take the 5:27 p.m. flight directly to the Sanford International Airport in Sanford, Florida. Blowme had been spotted fishing for alligator gar on the Wekiva River.

If Bargis could keep his pecker in his knickers long enough to actually do secret agent type work, he might just end Blowme's reign of terror.

Unfortunately, Bargis could not keep it in his knickers, not for an hour, a minute, or a second, and especially not when a female of any stripe was near enough for his schlong to get a whiff of feminine pheromones. And QT was waiting at the airport, sending off funky monkey musk.

Predictably, Bargis threw QT on the rough carpet of the first class passengers lounge and attempted to thrust his mighty member into M's daughter's quim.

"Bargis, Bargis, that's not the right….Aaaarrrggghhhh, screamed QT.

"Any old port in a storm, don't you know, dear," he muttered as he shuddered.

When he finished, three seconds after he began, QT rolled his dead weight off of her and stood up as best she could. Bargis sat up, zipped his fly, and lit a nasty brown cigarette with his gold lighter.

"I needed that, QT," he said as he blew smoke through his nostrils, his empty left eye socket, and his right ear.

"I certainly didn't need THAT," QT said as she shakily took a step away from 004. Her second step found Bargis's glass eye, causing her to slip and fall on her derrière.

"Fuck-a-shit-piss," she cried out as her already bruised bottom banged the floor.

"Oh, no, you've broken my brown eye," Bargis said, his disappointment evident in his gravelly voice.

"It's only fair; you've busted mine," QT huffed.

"No worries, darling," he said as he reached into his carry-on bag and removed another glass eye. He popped the new on in place.

"How does it look," he asked QT.

"It's blue, 004,"

"So, it's blue. So what?"

"Your other eye is brown. You'll call attention to yourself and endanger us both,' QT said gravely.

"I'll wear sunglasses, lass. Nobody will know the difference," Bargis reassured QT.

"Can you do something about the huge bulge in your crotch," she asked.

"Certainly, I'll tuck it between my legs and run it up the back of my shirt, then down the front again," he said as he dropped his pants and proceeded to do so. Twelve women and three men in the BAOC first class lounge suffered heart attacks at the sight of his monstrous pole.

When he'd rearranged his pile driver, he turned to QT and asked, "How's that, dear. Better?"

"Customs will think you are smuggling a boa constrictor in your suit, 004," she answered.

"Don't worry about customs, my sweet; our CIA contact, Morse, will meet us in Sanford and get us through as diplomats," Bargis promised.

Just then, an announcement called first class passengers to board. Bargis and QT stepped up to the agent checking the boarding passes. Bargis was waved on through, but QT was stopped dead in her tracks.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but you will have to wait over there with the other stand by passengers," said the boarding agent.

"Stand by," QT said, her voice rising to a shriek. "Stand by!"

"Yes, ma'am, now please step aside so the other first class passengers and those with reservations may board," the attendant said calmly.

QT was able to make the flight, but just barely. She rode wedged in between luggage bins in the unheated, but pressurized cargo hold. Six hours later, baggage handlers carted QT off the plane and shoved her onto a beltway that delivered her, with the other luggage, to the baggage carousel.

"Did you have a nice flight, QT," Bargis asked.

QT reached for her PPK then realized it had been confiscated by the airline when she "boarded."

"Oh, there's our ride now," Bargis said cheerily.

Indeed, CIA Agent Morse was waiting at the gate for Bargis and QT.

"Follow me, aught aught four," said the agent.

"Jolly good, old boy, and how is your lovely wife," Bargis asked as he shook the agent's hand.

"She's just not been the same since you and she, well, you know, Bargis. You ruined her for me, damn your eyes," the CIA spy said.

"Tell me about it," QT said knowingly.

The trio stepped out into the bright, warm, spring, central Florida sunshine. QT struggled with her bags and Bargis's as well. She fell behind the two old friends and nearly lost sight of them as they walked across the crowded parking lot.

"Come along, now; don't dwaddle so, QT," Bargis said in his haughty voice.

"Piece of shit asshole," QT muttered.

"Why is she walking so oddly, Bargis? Is she lame," asked Morse.

"Not exactly, we had a bit of a mix up. Nothing major, I assure you," said 004.

"My ass," muttered QT once again. "Wait until my mother hears about this!"

When she reached the agents Fiat, she was shocked to see it seated only two people and little, if any of the luggage she was lugging. Bargis jumped into the passenger's seat and Agent Morse got into the driver's seat.

"You might want to catch a cab, QT," Bargis said to the worn out woman.

"Where would I find a taxi, Agent Morse," she asked.

"Just the other side of the concourse, QT. We'll see you at the hotel," said Morse as he started the car and drove off leaving the young woman alone in the lot.

But QT wasn't alone. Blowme's girl pal, Lickme, had her evil eye on the apprentice spook. She was driving a gypsy cab and drove straight to the exhausted British agent.

"Need a cab, ma'am," Lickme said in her most friendly voice.

"Oh Lord, yes. Yes, I do,' said QT. It would be hours before she was missed by anyone.


Bargis and the CIA agent drove to the Wekiva River landing just north of Sanford. They parked and walked across the sandy lot to a wooden dock that jutted into the crystal clear river.

Bargis stopped to peruse the flora and fauna that crowded the narrow stream. A large blue heron stalked small minnows and fingerling bass whilst a beautiful roseate spoonbill strained the muck of the river bottom for its dinner.

"What a lovely place this is, Morse," said Bargis to his friend. "It's too bad such trash as Blowme is on this river. I say let's get him, and get him now!"

"Let's," said Morse.

Agent Morse and 004 stepped across the gunwales of a sleek sixteen foot ski boat. Bargis, still dressed in the charcoal black Saville Row suit he wore on the plane, looked a bit out of place among the bass fishermen and bikini wearing Florida girls who stared longingly at the bulge in his pants and shirt.

Bargis waved jauntily at one buxom twenty-something blonde that was packing ten pounds of titties into a five pound sack, and wearing skin tight cut off jeans. He winked at the woman and she creamed her jeans, right then, and right there.

"Be back soon, dearie," he promised her.

She gave him a big smile and a return wink that spoke volumes. Her pheromones rushed out of her like a fog.

Next, a huge tearing sound echoed over the water as Bargis's boa broke free of his shirt and flew out over the water striking the wading spoonbill and killing it instantly.

The blonde woman dove into the water and attempted to reach Bargis but the CIA spook was way ahead of her and gunned the ski boat away from the dock.

"Business before pleasure, Bargis," the agent said.

"If you insist," said 004.

Ten minutes later, and two miles down river, the CIA agent cut the motor and allowed the boat to drift on the lazy current.

"We have satellite photographs that show us that Blowme is just about a half-mile ahead of us. We need to sneak up on him and take him by surprise. Shoot first, Bargis; ask no questions, ask for no surrender," instructed Morse.

Unfortunately, the two spooks did not see the fat Chinaman with the steel brimmed chapeau, hiding behind a palmetto with an RPG aimed directly at the ski boat. The devil squeezed the trigger and the shaped charged rocket rocketed toward the unsuspecting agents.

The explosion was deafening. Nothing remained of the boat, and only small pieces of the CIA agent floated on the surface, food for alligators and snapping turtles. Bargis was nowhere to be seen.

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

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