Bian Les Bian

The threat of a winter storm, that has overtaken Birmingham like a massive attack of LSD in the water supply, made things even more hectic for my partner Tiffany at the pharmacy yesterday.  So I made a nice dinner and rented the movie Salt with Angelina Jolie.  I figured a night taking it easy and watching a spy thriller was just the prescription a tired pharmacist would need in order to work a full weekend with the snow induced mass hysteria going on full swing.  The movie left me thinking two things:  I need to make a tasty high caloric hamburger with a greasy side of fries for Angelina Jolie’s scrawny ass and I could be a spy. 

These were the thoughts that sent me to bed, along with two big glasses of wine and a generous dose of Nyquil.  I had spectacular dreams.  I was an impeccably dressed, world class, highly paid, suave, and impressively limber spy.  I was a cross between Salt, Dirty Harry and James Bond.  In fact, my cocktails were not even shaken or stirred they were just quickly poured when I entered a room and I introduced myself as Bian Les Bian. 

I was working a case where a portly Russian drug lord, who was still pissed about the end of the cold war, was assembling evil forces from other countries to blow up the White House and Graceland.   I was deep undercover in the underbelly of evil, which immediately found me at a high stakes poker table.  Naturally, I walked away with 100 trillion dollars in chips and two free buffet passes.  At the table, I unsurprisingly procured priceless information necessary to thwart the agenda of the evil forces.

Along the way, as you would expect, there were a serious of explosions, gunfire and car crashes.  I always slowly walked away from these events with the devastation and carnage of evil exploding behind me as I lit a cigarette or a cigarillo (depending on the country where the encounters with evil transpired).  I also had a serious of amazing and secret weapons including a scooter that turned into a boat with a missile launcher.  My four dogs were also extremely talented secret agents under my command.  Their ability to sniff out a double spy was world renowned.

In the end, I saved the world and took the portly Russian drug lord alive.  I did, however, viciously rough him up for even thinking of destroying Graceland on the King’s birthday…I can’t even comprehend that level of scum and evil.  Waking up this morning, with as usual the dogs in my face, I looked around, winked at the dogs and did a ninja kick under the covers…content in the fact that if the CIA calls, I’m ready.