I witnessed an apple store robbery today, they made me an iWitness. I was already running late, after my wife took my cheese this morning. Even after I told her it was Nacho cheese. She asked what time my dentist appointment was, I told her Tooth hurt-y. But I didn’t end up going, as there was stairs I had to ascend. I don’t trust them, they’re always up to something. Then my wife got really mad at me and said that I have no sense of direction. So I packed up my stuff and right!
I went straight to the barber for a new look. He asked me if I wanted a haircut? I said no, I want them all cut. Puzzled he would ask such a silly question, I noticed the graveyard across the street looking overcrowded. People must be dying to get in there I thought. I picked up a book about anti-gravity. It was impossible to put down! Shear amazement a barber would have a book like this! I told the barber I used to hate facial hair...but then it grew on me. He stopped cutting my hair when my ear fell off. He must of realised I was a leper at this point so I paid for his service and told him to keep the tip.
I received a call from my Eastern European mother in law, apparently my child was refusing to sleep during nap time. She told me he’s guilty of resisting a rest. Then she called me straight back to say there was a kidnapping. I rushed to her home to find my kid napping. I was angry by the miscommunication but that anger turned to joy when I realised it was the first day of spring. I got so excited I wet my plants. After which I realised I was late for soccer practice. I’m not a big fan of the sport but I was doing it for the kicks. I decided not to go as I was tired from the night before where I spent the night looking for the sun. Then it dawned on me. Unusual for me, as I’m usually a pretty good sleeper. I can do it with my eyes closed.
The CIA had changed its recruiting practices, what with all the recent leaks and other problems. So Mr. Johnson was more than a little surprised to see a pine tree, which was dressed in a rather nice suit, waiting outside his office when he arrived at 9 am. He asked his secretary, "Gladys, who is this?"
"Mr. Johnson, this is Mr. Cone, our newest hire. He wanted to talk with you about the Honduras assignment."
Mr. Johnson spoke to Mr. Cone in his office. His new pine tree colleague was very knowledgeable and well-spoken, but there was something about him that threw Mr. Johnson off. He tried to dismiss his concerns as imaginary, but it gnawed at him all through the morning. He barely touched his lunch, as some of the things Mr. Cone had said were still swirling around and around in his mind. He was sure something was wrong, so he went in to see the head of their office branch, Mr. Smith.
"Johnson! Come right in, come right in," said Mr. Smith, puffing on a cigar. Mr. Johnson poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and sipped at it nervously.
"You're being rather quiet today, Johnson. Tell me, what's troubling you?"
"It's just this new guy, Mr. Cone," Mr. Johnson said carefully, staring at the bottom of his whiskey glass. "Are we sure we know him as well as we think we do?"
Mr. Smith took only a small puff from his cigar before letting his hand rest back on his desk. "Now really, Johnson," he sighed, "you're a good agent. Your caution has served you well in the past, but paranoia doesn't look so good on you. Mr. Cone has the most impressive resumé I've seen come across my desk in the last fifteen years. I've personally had him vetted by the best men in the business. He's going to be an asset to this office."
That was the response Mr. Johnson had been afraid of getting, but he continued to press his cause. "I understand that, sir. It's just that I'm getting the strangest feeling from this Cone fellow. Don't you think he's a little too perfect? A little too well-qualified?"
Mr. Smith stopped smoking his cigar altogether. A distant look came into his eyes as he mulled over the possibilities. "You don't suppose--"
"Yes," said Mr. Johnson, "I think he's a plant."
Note: I'm a mom, not a dad, but I'm pretty sure I only thought of this because my father-in-law tortures me with these kinds of stories almost constantly.