Transcript of a phone call made at 3 a.m. last night.
"This is the CIA. How may I help you?"
"You got any spy jobs available? I just saw that new Jamie Bond movie. It was awesome. I think I'd kick ass as a spy. Hiyah! {sound of movement, possible acts of karate being performed, sound of a trash can being hit}"
"Sir, this number is..."
"I got skills like you wouldn't believe. I broke into my neighbors house the other day. They had no idea I was ever in there. Jerked off to all kinds of stuff."
"I don't know what to say."
"Just direct my call to like whoever is in charge of like fucking spies. I mean that number is probably supposed to be all secret and whatever, but I'm sure someone's gotta take the first call."
"Typically we don't take applications in this manner. There's..."
"A procedure of some sort that probably involves a lot of bullshit I don't have time for. {sound of a lighter and indications speaker is smoking.}"
"Sir..."
"My name is Jon. You don't have to call me sir."
"Jon."
"What's your name?"
"..."
"Come on."
"Mary."
"You sound pretty, Mary. What they got you answering phones at 3 in the a.m.?"
"Everyone has a job to do."
"That's what I'm saying. My job is sorely under utilizing my skill sets."
"And what do you do?"
"I paint the inside of houses. 我 想 吻 你 的 阴 道."
"Was that... was that Chinese?"
"I got the skills that kills. I'm telling you. You know what I just said?"
"No."
"Neither do I. But that's not the point. I can speak all kinds of language, especially the language of love. Kiss kiss bang bang -- I'll spy your fucking ass off. So who do I talk to? I'm ready to tux up and throw down."
"Sir, Jon, spying isn't like a James Bond movie."
"You a spy?"
"No, but..."
"Then you don't know. Sorry to be rude, but it's just being honest. Spies are all about secrecy so it's not like anybody really knows what their jobs are like. Ian Fleming was a spy, so I have to assume there is some honesty to the Bond books and by extension the movies as well. BAM! How's that for thinking?!"
"There is a certain logic, I'll admit that. However, there's no one with whom I can connect you."
"I may have been drinking, but that hasn't slowed me down. You got someone. Like an extension with a vaguely creepy set of numbers like 9942 or 7110."
"..."
"Look, Mary, I like you."
"I like you too, Jon, and I would like to help you out."
"Okay."
"But there's nothing I can do."
"..."
"I'm sorry."
"That's alright, Mary. You did your best. Maybe I'll just break into Langley. That would do the trick."
"I don't think so. In fact, I would advise you against that."
"Then that's what I'll do."
"Jon. Seriously. Don't do that."
"See you real soon. I'll brin ya a pizza." {disconnects}
"Jon? Jon?"
{dial tone}
"This is the CIA. How may I help you?"
"You got any spy jobs available? I just saw that new Jamie Bond movie. It was awesome. I think I'd kick ass as a spy. Hiyah! {sound of movement, possible acts of karate being performed, sound of a trash can being hit}"
"Sir, this number is..."
"I got skills like you wouldn't believe. I broke into my neighbors house the other day. They had no idea I was ever in there. Jerked off to all kinds of stuff."
"I don't know what to say."
"Just direct my call to like whoever is in charge of like fucking spies. I mean that number is probably supposed to be all secret and whatever, but I'm sure someone's gotta take the first call."
"Typically we don't take applications in this manner. There's..."
"A procedure of some sort that probably involves a lot of bullshit I don't have time for. {sound of a lighter and indications speaker is smoking.}"
"Sir..."
"My name is Jon. You don't have to call me sir."
"Jon."
"What's your name?"
"..."
"Come on."
"Mary."
"You sound pretty, Mary. What they got you answering phones at 3 in the a.m.?"
"Everyone has a job to do."
"That's what I'm saying. My job is sorely under utilizing my skill sets."
"And what do you do?"
"I paint the inside of houses. 我 想 吻 你 的 阴 道."
"Was that... was that Chinese?"
"I got the skills that kills. I'm telling you. You know what I just said?"
"No."
"Neither do I. But that's not the point. I can speak all kinds of language, especially the language of love. Kiss kiss bang bang -- I'll spy your fucking ass off. So who do I talk to? I'm ready to tux up and throw down."
"Sir, Jon, spying isn't like a James Bond movie."
"You a spy?"
"No, but..."
"Then you don't know. Sorry to be rude, but it's just being honest. Spies are all about secrecy so it's not like anybody really knows what their jobs are like. Ian Fleming was a spy, so I have to assume there is some honesty to the Bond books and by extension the movies as well. BAM! How's that for thinking?!"
"There is a certain logic, I'll admit that. However, there's no one with whom I can connect you."
"I may have been drinking, but that hasn't slowed me down. You got someone. Like an extension with a vaguely creepy set of numbers like 9942 or 7110."
"..."
"Look, Mary, I like you."
"I like you too, Jon, and I would like to help you out."
"Okay."
"But there's nothing I can do."
"..."
"I'm sorry."
"That's alright, Mary. You did your best. Maybe I'll just break into Langley. That would do the trick."
"I don't think so. In fact, I would advise you against that."
"Then that's what I'll do."
"Jon. Seriously. Don't do that."
"See you real soon. I'll brin ya a pizza." {disconnects}
"Jon? Jon?"
{dial tone}
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