Yankee Parent Porno Story: Stans Last Mission Chapter Three

Chapter Three. And Your Name Is?

Ahh, these halls have seen some action. Stan remarked, as he strode though the halls of the CIA. Terrorist sieges, Democrat executions, Cock fights and one huge beaver.

Good morning Mr. Smith.

Morning Mr. Smith.

Hello, Mr. Smith.

Terrific. Stan muttered to himself. All these people and I have no idea who they are.

He turned the corner and found himself at the Deputy Directors office.

Some great memories of this place as well. Stan remembered. Like the time we brought Heath Ledger in for questioning, and he accidentally died and we made it look like an overdose.

He pushed the door open.

Hello, Agent Smith. The secretary said, in a cheery mood.

Good morning. He replied. Is Deputy Director Atwell in?

He sure is. She said. Do you want to see him?

Nope. He answered. I was just checking he wasnt going to be anywhere near the cafeteria.

Any particular reason you dont want him near the cafeteria?

Well. Stan said. I was planning on getting the agents to plan a huge song for him in honour of his great service as Deputy Director, and I didnt want him to hear it. Im not sure when it starts, but well be there all afternoon. You wont tell him will you?

Of course not.

Wonderful. Stan said, as he left the room, and hid in a closet a few feet away from the door.

Three, Two, One.

Deputy Director Atwell came sprinting out of the room and in the direction of the cafeteria.

Sucker. Stan laughed, as he exited the closet. Now to raid through his office and look for clues as to who the traitor is.

Stan kicked the door open, and went in wondering where Atwells secretary had gone.

He found the filing cabinet with all the records of every agent employed by the CIA, and proceeded to spend the next two hours flicking through them. He had narrowed down a number of suspects who could have allegiance to the Cult of Spargus, and was about to go talk to them.

And now to get out of here, before Atwell sees through my ingenious ploy.

Stan was about to leave, when he heard the voice of the Deputy Director in the hall.

Well, what a bloody waste of time. He was heard to complain. I could have been in my office guarding that filing cabinet. Because anyone who interferes with that filing cabinet will surely face a slow and painful death by weasel.

Stan gulped. Death by weasel was a torture that they had spent hours perfecting in the Bay.

Im doomed. He whispered, as he saw the handle turn.

Wait, sir. Stan heard someone say. I think I hear singing in the cafeteria.

Oh joy. Atwell said, before the handle stopped turning. Stan breathed a huge sigh of relief, as he heard footsteps leaving the area.

Now, to go and find these evil bastards before they corrupt the entire planet.

Stan looked at his watch. Actually, it can wait till the morning. And home to my family.

Roger had found a bottle of Jack Daniels he had hidden under the couch sixteen years ago, and was now in the process of putting it in a place where it would never be disturbed ever again.

Ahh, my precious Jack. He said, as he opened the cabinet. Nobody will ever find you here.

Authors Notes. This seems kinda lazy, but what are you going to do.

Im just writing this in my spare time.

Stan has a list of suspects, and what happens next is anyones guess.

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