I tossed the grenade into the warehouse and

I tossed the grenade into the warehouse and turned away. I began walking briskly and smirked softly as the explosion went off behind me. Cool guys don't look at explosions.

Suddenly my backside began to feel quite warm. The pain escalated quickly until it became obvious I was on fire. Taking a quick glance behind me I realized the explosion was

my computer. I quickly rolled around on the floor and managed to put myself out. I stood up and looked at the smoky rubble. The last thing i remember was downloading a file, but it

must have contained some incendiary material which permeated my firewall. The content police had probably already detected my port address. I covered my scarred skin with a

full body rubber disguise, spritzed on some Chanel No. 5, & just like that, I transformed into Catherine Deneuve. The police were transfixed with my Frenchness, the way I shrugged

Sergeant Lipschitz wouldn't sing the dang song so the questions continued. "Are you gay? Do you eat breakfast? Why did your pet

tomato get mange? Do you dance the Macarena? Have you got a mole on your hip bone? If you eat breakfast, is it toast? Would you like jam? Sergeant Lipschitz bit his lip with the ef

fortless sex appeal of a natural 10. "Yes, on all accounts" breathed Lipschitz heavily. He nibbled toast, then dabbed raspberry marmalade off his pout. "But what about you

, my dear arm candy?" After inhaling deeply came the response. "Why did they call you Lip Shits?" Lipschitz looked as if he never expected that, and awkward silence ensued.