Mission: Pen

The below is a short story penned by Evan.

2:04 PM, St. Garciaparra High School

Principal Opie Dore walked into his office, and sat down at his desk. He sighed deeply. It had been a long day. First, he had to deal with a mother who was angry over her daughter receiving a B+ on an AP United States History test. He had assured her he would talk to the teacher and investigate any possible wrongdoing. Then the cafeteria ran out of chicken nuggets, which they made everyday. A hasty substitution had to be made. After tremendous debate on the possibilities of having of filet mignon or brussel sprout soup, they settled on filet mignon.

Then, a fight had broken out during class. A boy had been talking to his Foods teacher while another girl was baking a soufflé. The boy took a step back after finishing his conversation with the teacher, and stepped on a bag. He stumbled, and reached out to put his hands on a desk. A pen on the desk went flying, and hit the girl, who exhaled on the soufflé in surprise. The soufflé caved. Five teachers had to pull her off the boy.

The day was over. Dore reached for the stack of papers that needed his signing. He then reached for his trusty, solid plastic “St. Garciaparra High School” pen. He grasped thin air. He moved his hand back, assuming he had missed the first time. He missed again.

Dore looked up, and gasped. The pen was not in his pen holder! It was gone! An empty space where the pen should have been! Nothing but air! Dore looked around his desk. Papers, computer, pictures of his family, a signed tennis ball by Tom Brady, and…no pen. He looked under his desk. Under his chair. In the file cabinet. Over the cabinet. In his pants. His pockets. His shirt. His hair. No, no, no! The pen was not there! Dore gasped in horror, and then his eyes narrowed in slits. Someone must have taken it…someone who wanted to hurt Dore. Well, Dore wouldn’t stand by and get hurt! He would get an agent to track down his pen.

He grabbed the phone book sitting on his file cabinet, and flipped to the “Secret Agents” section. He perused the section, and found just the right ad!

SECRET AGENTS FOR HIRE
1-800-YOUR-MOM
Ask to speak to Lisa. Ask to speak to anyone else if you don’t want to speak to Lisa.

He dialed the number. It rang once.

“Hello?”

Victory! Dore grinned.

“Hello…may I speak to Lisa?”

“One moment…She will be with you momentarily. Please hold.”

Dore held for two minutes, and got to listen to “Livin’ La Vida Loca.” Finally, Lisa picked up.

“Hello, this is Lisa. How may I help you today?”

“Hello, this is Principal Opie Dore at St. Garciaparra High School. This is a matter of national security. My pen has been stolen.”

“Your pen has been stolen? My goodness, Mr. Dore! How devastating that must have been for you!”

“I am in a trauma, Lisa! You must help me!”

“Of course, Mr. Dore. I will inform my best man of this horrible crime, and he will do some snooping. After he has found some information out, I will have him contact you. I can assure you, the pen‘s safety will not be compromised at any time during this mission.”

“Wonderful, Lisa. Thank you.” Dore hung up. The pen would be found. He was sure of it.”

| | |

2:48 PM, somewhere on Route 34 Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 314 min

He snapped his cell phone down. So. Some smart aleck decided to steal a principal’s pen. Well, they would soon find out that would not be tolerated. At all. Period.

He took a drive. Who would know about an all-plastic, high school pen of a principal that was used to sign important papers — papers of national security, no less! He thought. There was no one that would know. But he knew where to start. Honest Abe’s Saloon.

| | |

3:13 PM, Honest Abe’s Saloon Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 255 min

He walked into the saloon, and was immediately appalled by the alcoholic stink of the saloon. This was no place for a little child, that was clear. He surveyed the room. There was that tough biker playing pool with an ex-convict. On the right of the bar, there were two college boys sitting and trying to look cool. He looked down to the end of the bar. Ay, Maria! There stood a gorgeous woman, a woman of such perfection. He walked over to her.

“Hello. May I buy a drink?”

The woman blushed, and smiled. “Of course you may, sir. My name is Maria Alvarez Ramirez Ilena Anderson. And your name?”

He arched his eyebrow and smiled gregariously.

“Brunell. Evan Brunell. Agent Evan Brunell. Agent Evan S. Brunell. Agent…Evan…Steele…Brunell.” He smiled again. No woman could resist that.

Maria took a breath of surprise. There was something mysterious about this man. Something so mysterious, that she couldn’t resist.

“Please sit down, Mr. Agent Evan Steele Brunell.”

Agent Brunell sat down and smiled at her. The bartender came over.

“What can I get youse people?” He inquired.

“The lady will have some water, and I will have some milk…shaken, not stirred.”

“Will do.” The bartender moved away to get the order.

“Lovely choice, Mr. Agent Evan Steele Brunell,” Maria said. “I love water.”

“Somehow, I figured that, Maria.” Agent Brunell smiled. “Say, Maria…may I ask you a question? It is a question of national security.”

“Of course, Mr. Agent Evan Steele Brunell.”

“Maria…” Agent Brunell took her hands into his. “Have you seen a red, plastic St. Garciaparra High School pen lately?”

Maria gasped. She turned away from Agent Brunell and bit her lip. Agent Brunell peered curiously over her shoulder. She whirled around again, breathless.

“Mr. Agent Evan Steele Brunell, you shouldn’t come in here asking such questions! It’s liable to get you killed!”

Agent Brunell grabbed Maria by the arm. “Listen, Maria! It’s my job! I work for the Secret Agent Headquarters, and we’ve got a matter of national security here! We must find that pen, or the world will suffer! If you have any idea where that pen is, you need to tell me!”

Maria stared at Agent Brunell.

“Oh, Mr. Agent Evan Steele Brunell, if only you knew! If only you knew!” Maria dissolved into tears.

Agent Brunell looked away, angry. They had gotten to her first. Who were those people? And what would they do next?

| | |

4:53 PM, Hemingway Docking Bay Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 201 min

Agent Brunell drove up to the Hemingway Docking Bay, hopeful to get an answer from Fisherman Drew. Fisherman Drew knew all the happenings going on in Dusty City, and he would be sure to know about the pen. First, Agent Brunell wiped the dust from his eyes. They didn’t call it Dusty City for nothing.

He walked up to Fisherman Drew, who was ready to cast off in hopes of catching an eel.

“Fisherman Drew, may I have a word with you?”

Fisherman Drew looked up. “Of course, my good, jolly agent. What is it?”

“Fisherman Drew, do you know anything about a red, plastic pen from St. Garciaparra High School being stolen?”

Fisherman Drew looked up alarmingly. He embraced Agent Brunell in an hug, and then whispered to him in his ear.

“Don’t let on…they’re watching. They know you’re looking into this. Be very careful, understood?…Listen, if you go on the internet and into the chat room “Teenz Rulz!”, you might just figure out this mystery.”

He released Agent Brunell from his clutch, held a finger to his lips, and turned away, busying himself with busy work.

Agent Brunell flashed his smile. Finally, a lead!

| | |

5:00 PM, 005 Agency Road Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 194 min

Agent Brunell signed on his screen-name, “Agent Brunell”, and went chat surfing. He finally found the chat room “Teenz Rulz!”, and entered it.

Imateenandirule: lol, that’s so funny

StudRunner2006 has left the room.

Agent Brunell: hey sup whats funy

Gurlrox: who r u

Agent Brunell: i am a person wunderin wut so funny

Kelsley239723240 has entered the room.

Imateenandirule: agent, sum1 jus made a joke that’s all

Agent Brunell: oh

SGHSplayer2004: hey guyz wanna hear summin cool

Imateenandirule: ya

Gurlrox: ya

NSYNCyaaa232363: yaaaaa! hehe

AirESB has entered the room.

Agent Brunell: what is it

SGHSplayer2004: lol theres this pen lol its from my skool SGHS, SGHS RULZ!!!!!!!!! neways, sum1 at my skool stole it from our principle! lol!!!!

Imateenandirule: lol they got some guts doin that

NYSYNCyaaa232363: hehe ur funny SGHS were u live

Agent Brunell had found what he needed. Now he just needed to Instant Message this “SGHSplayer2004”. Hopefully they hadn’t gotten to him yet.

Agent Brunell: hey

SGHSplayer2004: umm who dis

Agent Brunell: i wuz in chat

SGHSplayer2004: ohh yaa sup

Agent Brunell: nm that pen thing was funny lol

SGHSplayer2004: ya lol rotfl

Agent Brunell: so who took it

SGHSplayer2004: ah jus a friend

Agent Brunell: wuts ur name

SGHSplayer2004: danny

Agent Brunell: hey danny

SGHSplayer2004: what

Agent Brunell: whyd ur friend take the pen

SGHSplayer2004: the principle is a loser. he gave us filet mignon instead of chicken nuggets. wut a loser.

Agent Brunell: o

SGHSplayer2004: g2g ttul

Finally, a motive behind the madness.

| | |

5:43 PM, St. Garciaparra High School Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 150 min

Agent Brunell drove up to the high-school, SGHS. A nice looking school, he thought. Who would have thought it was home to a raving lunatic?

He got out of his car and walked into the school. He located the principal’s office. He needed to have a talk with the principal, Opie Dore.

He walked in and found Opie Dore sitting in his chair, staring at the wall in front of him. He looked as if he hadn’t slept for, well…since 2:04 PM.

“Mr. Dore?”

Opie Dore looked up, and his face brightened. This must be the man that Lisa sent out to find his pen!

“Ah! Yes, I am Mr. Dore. And you are?”

Agent Brunell arched his eyebrow and smiled. “Brunell. Evan Brunell. Agent Evan Brunell. Agent Evan S. Brunell. Agent…Evan…Steele…Brunell.” He smiled again.

“Yes, yes, Agent Brunell. Please have a seat.”

Opie Door sat down from across him and leaned over his desk nervously. “Agent Brunell, do you have news?”

Agent Brunell sighed, and crossed his legs. “Yes, Mr. Dore. Your pen is in serious danger.”

Dore’s face fell. “You mean, you don’t have it?”

“No, Mr. Dore. That’s where you come in.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, Mr. Dore. Mr. Dore, my sources have told me that someone upset with your lunch choice stole your pen.”

Opie Dore pounded his fist against the desk. “I knew we should have gone with the brussels sprout soup!”

Agent Brunell looked sharply at Dore. “Dore, this is no time for looking back in the past. All it does is make us look in the past. What I need to know from you…who was so angry that you gave them filet mignon that they voiced their displeasure?”

Mr. Dore thought for a moment. “Well, when they found out what was going to be served instead of chicken nuggets, there were some people happy, but some people were unhappy. Let’s see, there was…” He stopped.

“Mr. Dore?”

“Of course! It must be Kent. F. Chiggin’s son, Kris!”

“Why must it be Kris?”

“Because Kris buys chicken nuggets every day at lunch, and he’s the class president. In his campaign platform, he pledged to bring chicken nuggets to the lunch menu everyday!”

“Mr. Dore, you might just have saved your pen. Now we must find this Kris Chiggin.”

| | |

6:23 PM, Kent + Amy Chiggin’s Residence Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 110 min

Agent Brunell rapped on the door of the Chiggin’s. He needed to talk to his mother. Only his mother would know where Kris was.

His mother opened the door, and gasped.

“Mrs. Chiggin, I am…” He arched his eyebrow and smiled. “Brunell. Evan Brunell. Agent Evan Brunell. Agent Evan S. Brunell. Agent…Evan…Steele…Brunell.” He smiled again.

“Oh, Agent Brunell! It is such a pleasure to meet you! I’m making chicken nuggets for dinner, so I can’t be kept long…what do you need?”

“Mrs. Chiggin, do you have a son named Kris?”

“Why…yes, I do…”

“Where is this child?”

“Why? Is Kris in trouble? I promise you, Agent Brunell, that boy is a good boy, he wouldn’t hurt an elephant—”

“Mrs. Chiggin, this is a matter of national security. Where is your son?”

“He’s at the arcade, I think…”

Agent Brunell was off to save the day.

| | |

7:37 PM, Archie’s Arcade Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 36 min

Agent Brunell entered the arcade, and scanned the crowd. Well, it wasn’t a crowd. There were only three boys in the arcade.

“Kris Chiggin,” Agent Brunell called out. “Kris Chiggin!”

The boy in the middle of the pack, playing Pac-Man, whirled around, took one look at Agent Brunell, and bolted out the door, running.

| | |

7:46 PM, Back Alley of Archie’s Arcade Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 27 min

Agent Brunell pursued Kris Chiggin.

| | |

7:50 PM, Mannsburden Lane Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 23 min

Agent Brunell chased Kris Chiggin some more.

| | |

7:56 PM, Princess Diana Drive Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 21 min

Agent Brunell started to gain on Kris Chiggin.

| | |

8:13 PM, St. Garciaparra Road Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 10 min

Agent Brunell chased Kris Chiggin up the lane. The school loomed ahead.

| | |

8:15 PM, Front Steps of SGHS Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 8 min

Agent Brunell leaped, and grabbed Kris Chiggin’s foot. Kris Chiggin’s kicked Agent Brunell’s hand away, and ran into the school. He ran up the stairs to the second floor. Mr. Dore peeked out of his door, and saw Kris bolting up the stairs. He pursued Kris.

| | |

8:18 PM, Mrs. Nixon’s Room (Room 1918) Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 5 min

Agent Brunell ran into the room, and skidded to a stop. Mr. Dore was in the middle of the room, staring at Kris. Kris held the red, plastic St. Garciaparra High School pen out Mrs. Nixon’s window.

“Don’t move!” Kris screamed. “Don’t move! I’ll drop it, I swear!”

| | |

8:19 PM, Mrs. Nixon’s Room (Room 1918) Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 4 min

Agent Brunell had only one thought in his mind.

“Did I leave the oven on,” he wondered?

| | |

8:20 PM, Mrs. Nixon’s Window Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 3 min

Beads of sweat started forming on Kris’ hands. Mr. Dore started screaming.

“I beg of you, Kris, don’t do it! Don’t do it! Oh. Holy Mother of St. Garciaparra! Don’t do it! I’ll do anything! I’ll serve chicken nuggets everyday! Spare the pen! Take me instead!”

Agent Brunell started walking forward.

| | |

8:21 PM, Mrs. Nixon’s Window Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 2 min

“Don’t move!” Kris screamed.

Agent Brunell kept walking.

“I said, don’t move!’

| | |

8:22 PM, Mrs. Nixon’s Window Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 1 min

Mr. Dore snapped out of his screaming fit.

“Kris, hand that pen over, now!”

Kris let go of the pen.

| | |

8:22 PM, The Air Time to Pen’s Safety Being Compromised: 0 min 1 sec

Agent Brunell leapt.

He leapt past Mr. Dore.

He leapt past Mrs. Nixon’s desk.

He leapt past Kris’ terror-stricken face.

He leapt out of the window.

His hand outstretched, he grabbed the pen, and then grabbed the windowsill. Dangling out the window, he pulled himself up until he was safely back in. The police had already gotten there, and were carting Kris off. Mr. Dore ran over to get the pen.

“Mr. Dore, your pen.”

“Oh, Agent Brunell, thank you so much!” Mr. Dore ran off.

“Who are you, anyways!?” Kris Chiggin yelled as the police carted him off.

From the door came a voice. “Brunell. Evan Brunell. Agent Evan Brunell. Agent Evan S. Brunell. Agent…Evan…Steele…Brunell.”

Agent Brunell looked with surprise at the door.

“Maria!”

Maria walked forward with a smile on her face.

“You did good, Mr. Agent Evan Steele Brunell. You have saved the world.”

Agent Brunell flashed his smile. “I know.”

“I know a good place, Mr. Agent Evan Steele Brunell. We can get acquainted there.”

“And where, pray tell, is that, Maria?”

Maria smiled. “The grocery store. Come, you can tell me if Prego or Ragu is better.”

| | |

And with that, Mission: Pen was over.

CLICK HERE TO SEE THE FINAL MISSION: STORY!

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