Spies on a Mission

“Sign our books!”

“What?” I confusedly answered after this unexpected demand.

“Sign our books to prove that we fulfilled our mission!”

“What are you talking about?” I stammered, still perplexed by the order. This command was being given to me by three nimble and wrinkle-free explorers who had just entered my abode. The squad had silently snuck up behind me and almost caught me by surprise. If I wasn’t blessed with the magic of peripheral vision, I might have been totally stunned.

In spite of it being over 70 degrees inside my house, the three members of the dangerous looking crew had on long coats and hats, with packs on their backs whose contents remained unknown. They also carried with them in their hands what appeared to be maps and light emitting devices. The oldest clutched a pointed object of some sort. To say that these three seemed out of place would be an understatement. They looked dangerous, and set me on edge.

My heart raced as sweat beaded upon my skin, and my other senses became heightened. I instinctively began to flex my hands. I silently cursed under my breath. If only I had been wearing my glasses, I might have been able to put up a better defense against these intruders.

“C’mon, Dad!” whined the three little spies. “Just sign our mission books already so we can get back to our job.”

The three, who I now took to be miniature Moen beings, all thrust out their self-made mission cards at me. Then, they all said loudly in unison, “Sign!”

As the small paper card from the largest child got closer to my nose, the print on it became legible. The piece of paper had on it a list of “missions” that each kid was supposed to accomplish. The first task – “Sneak up on Dad.”

“Would you please hurry up?” said my oldest. She then handed me the pointed object she was holding – a pen. “We have a lot to get accomplished today, and don’t have time to waste!”

“Okay,” I replied, while rapidly taking the pen from her and signing each child’s mission card. I handed each slip of paper back with my signature written as “Dad,” to each respective child. Then I asked, “All set?”

“Thanks, Dad!” they happily said. Then, all three of my imaginative children took off in search of another adventure.

As they traipsed around the corner, I quickly wrote down the spy gear they each had with them. Here is what I learned that each professional undercover agent needs in order to conduct a mission successfully:

Powder-Puff Girls Backpack
Notepad
Hand Sanitizer
Dictionary
Chapstick
Pencil
Pen
Light
Club Membership/Mission Card

Perry the Platypus would be so proud!

What you just read above is my second draft of an incident that I jotted down earlier in the week. I often write down a few words, sentences, or phrases on paper, record my thoughts on my digital recorder, and/or write out ideas using my computer’s word processing program several times a week. Sometimes these tidbits become stories or even blog posts. Others just become detritus.

In either case, valuable additions to my creative writing process has taken place – I get ideas, I think about them, and I decide which ones may have some merit. Then, I further develop the ideas that strike me as worthy of development. Others, I discard.

After writing for a bit on the “winners” for my stories and blogs, I sometimes sadly learn that some of pieces I’ve spent added time on don’t work. Rats! All is not lost though. I put these back in my portfolio and hope that someday I’ll happen upon them again just like I would a time capsule. Maybe these canceled ideas will work at a later date, and I’ll be able to recycle them in the future?

Below is my original ramblings about the “Spies on a Mission” short story I developed more fully above. Can you notice the similarities between the two?


My four year old son, along with his older siblings, snuck up behind me last night and caught me by surprise. Then, as all good spies do when accomplishing a task, my kids had me check off and sign their self-made “mission” cards to verify that they had fulfilled their spy mission by sneaking up on me quietly. They even had their own pens just in case I failed to bring one from my mission control reclining easy chair. Inspector Clouseau would be so proud!