Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Greatest Hits Vol. 1: Secret Agent Disco Dancer

By Scott Gordon

Lobster Bisque, anyone? How about a nice, big piece of Tira Misu? Filled with pepperoni, of course… And did somebody say pizza?

Buckle up, buster, because this disco dancing frog is no joke, and evil doesn't stand a chance against the super spy stomach of the swamp. (Unless his tummy starts rumbling or the world runs out of Ding Dongs…)

Enjoy the first eight episodes from the ongoing serial novel Secret Agent Disco Dancer, including the following smash hits:

SIDE A

Green Eggs and a Side of Earnest Bacon
Double Agent Orangegrove
Was It the Lobster Bisque?
The Last Ding Dong on Earth

SIDE B

Did Somebody Say Pizza?
Frosted Flake
Was It the Tira Misu?
Burger Blues (+side story)

Over 350 pages in all. Descriptions of my other popular children's books are included after the main feature (an additional 5 pages). BONUS: Burger Blues Side Story is also included!

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.E. Gordon
• Release date: Mar 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386945970

Scott Gordon

Scott Gordon is a successful children's book author, with over two hundred books to his credit. He also writes science fiction, fantasy and horror under the pen name S.E. Gordon.

Book preview

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Greatest Hits Vol. 1 by Scott GordonFrog

Secret Agent Disco Dancer

Greatest Hits Vol. 1

Scott Gordon

My Crazy Pet Frog Reading Order

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Green Eggs and a Side of Earnest Bacon

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Double Agent Orangegrove

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Was It The Lobster Bisque?

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: The Last Ding Dong on Earth

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Did Somebody Say Pizza?

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Frosted Flake

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Was It The Tira Misu?

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Burger Blues

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Burger Blues 2 (Coming Soon!)

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Burger Blues Side Story

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Government Issue (Coming Soon!)

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: You Don't Know Jack

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Soccer Star

My Crazy Pet Frog: I Gave My Pizza A Spanking

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Santa's Super Helpers

My Crazy Pet Frog: The Nightmare Pizza Before Christmas

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: The Zombies Ate My Pizza

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Taco Tuesday

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Black Mountain (Coming Soon!)

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Chicken George

My Crazy Pet Frog (The original picture book!)

My Crazy Pet Frog: A Novelette

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: A Novel (Coming Soon!)

Collections

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Greatest Hits Vol. 1

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Grand Slam

© 2018 Scott Gordon. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form (electronic, mechanical or otherwise) without the express written consent of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

E-book layout, formatting and design by Scott Gordon.

Image(s) © Julien Tromeur, Mircea Maties, Asaf Eliason, Todd Arena, Dmitry Kutlaev, Anna Tsekhmister, Nataliia Natykach, Maksym Yemelyanov, Slavoljub Pantelic, Malgorzata Patrzyk, Oleksii Ferapontov, Grigoriy Manukyan, Pablo Scapinachis Armstrong, Alexander Mirokhin, Einar Muoni, Denis Dovzhanskiy, Alexander Mirokhin, Santosh Chavan (Fry guy illustrations, #81754806, #81757456, #81775910, #81761988, #81758856, #81757766, #81757514, #81768278) and Stefano Orazzini. Additional black and white illustration(s) by Alfredo Intoci. Extended licenses provided by Dreamstime Stock Photos and Deposit Photos.

Background texture for Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Frosted Flake provided by Piotr Siedlecki and used in accordance with the CC0 1.0 Universal (CC0 1.0) Public Domain License described on the following page:

https://publicdomainpictures.net/en/view-image.php?image=157148&picture=liquid-chocolate

First Edition (v1.02)

Published on September 15, 2018

Last updated on June 8, 2020

ISBN-13: 9781386945970

Mailing List: http://eepurl.com/TFW3r

Support Me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/scottgordon

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Title Page

Also by Scott Gordon

Copyright

Dedication

Cast

Book 1: Green Eggs and a Side of Earnest Bacon

Chapter 1: F for Frillyfoam or Fiasco?

Chapter 2: Variable Intellect

Chapter 3: Hot Tub Halfwit

Chapter 4: Erratically Yours

Chapter 5: Lucky Schmucky

Chapter 6: Green Eggs

Chapter 7: A Gift Horse and a Name

Chapter 8: Partners in Crime

On Green Eggs...Eek!

Book 2: Double Agent Orangegrove

Chapter 1: Piggy Wiggy

Chapter 2: Pizza Passcode

Chapter 3: Black Eagle

Chapter 4: Sitter, Sitter Fruit Ninja Dinner

Chapter 5: Fruity Folly

Chapter 6: Rolling, Rolling, Rolling...

Intermission and a Side of Fruit

Chapter 7: Most Wanted

Chapter 8: Fruity Express

Chapter 9: Fruity, Inc.

Chapter 10: Potty Patrol

Chapter 11: Macho Gazpacho

Chapter 12: Chili Verde

Chapter 13: Orangegrove

Chapter 14: Double Agent Orangegrove

Chapter 15: All Clear

It Must Have Been the Twinkie!

Book 3: Was It The Lobster Bisque?

Chapter 1: Swine

Chapter 2: The Hand You’re Dealt

Chapter 3: Bucharest Beauty

Chapter 4: Doozy

Chapter 5: Criminally Inept

Chapter 6: Le Bisque, Le YIKES!

Chapter 7: Le True Master Chef

A Scary Place, Indeed

Book 4: The Last Ding Dong on Earth

Chapter 1: Bottomless

Chapter 2: Headline News

Chapter 3: Ding Dong

Chapter 4: Cheesey

Chapter 5: Barren

Chapter 6: Frisky

Chapter 7: Juicy

Chapter 8: Private Eye

Chapter 9: Highest Bidder

Chapter 10: Nano Nano

Chapter 11: Decor

Chapter 12: Heel

Chapter 13: Cheeky

Chapter 14: Wallwalker

Chapter 15: Spinjam

Chapter 16: Les Ding Dongs

Chapter 17: Mega Dong

Chapter 18: Le Mega Log

Chapter 19: Sludge

Chapter 20: Feed Me

Production Notes: A Ding Dong in the Making

Hostess Disclaimer

Book 5: Did Somebody Say Pizza?

Hold onto Your Pepperoni!

Chapter 1: Rump

Chapter 2: Fake News

Chapter 3: Laike

Chapter 4: Yummy

Chapter 5: Escort

Chapter 6: Lucky

Chapter 7: Cripple Chamber

Chapter 8: Very Fake News

Chapter 9: Newbie

Chapter 10: Margin of Error

Chapter 11: Interview with a Bunghole

Chapter 12: Perpetrator

Chapter 13: Special Delivery

Chapter 14: Backstreet

Chapter 15: Loud and Clear

Chapter 16: Legendary

Yeah, What the Heck?

Production Journal: Marshaling in a New Era of Pizza Imperfection

Book 6: Frosted Flake

Warning: Turbulence Ahead

Chapter 1: Frost-Deficient

Chapter 2: Hairy Scary

Chapter 3: Terminated

Chapter 4: Dallas

Chapter 5: Last Call

Chapter 6: Fart Wars

Chapter 7: Dreadlocked

Chapter 8: Scruggs

Chapter 9: Compromised

Chapter 10: Nutter

Chapter 11: Air Force One

Chapter 12: Dumped

Chapter 13: Scruggy Wuggy

Chapter 14: Payload

Chapter 15: Pop Goes the Weasel

Chapter 16: Lax

Chapter 17: Chocodile Smile

Writing: A Constant Juggling Act

Production Journal: A Flakey Start

Wendy’s Disclaimer

Book 7: Was It The Tira Misu?

Prologue: O Canada

Chapter 1: Everlast

Chapter 2: Maria di Grazia

Chapter 3: Bad Pitts

Chapter 4: First Love

Chapter 5: Grogburp

Chapter 6: Second Love

Chapter 7: A Simple Trade

Chapter 8: Market Price

Chapter 9: Fresh Catch

Chapter 10: Bon Appetit

Chapter 11: Toothless

Chapter 12: Untainted

Bittersweet

Production Journal: Finally Within Reach

Book 8: Burger Blues

Chapter 1: Steak ‘n Shake

Chapter 2: Shake ‘n Shake

Chapter 3: Steak ‘n Break

Chapter 4: Steak ‘n Ache

Chapter 5: Steak ‘n Spake

Chapter 6: Steak ‘n Plates

Chapter 7: Steak ‘n Shriek

Chapter 8: Steak ‘n Hate

Chapter 9: Steak ‘n Quake

The Story Behind the Steakburger

A Word About Ronda

BOOK 9: Burger Blues Side Story

An Opening Quote to Ponder

Chapter 1: No Problemo

Chapter 2: Hamburger Helper

Chapter 3: Matchmaker, Matchmaker

Chapter 4: No Muy Bueno

Chapter 5: Western Beefcake

Chapter 6: Bottomless

Author’s Note: Every Steakburger Should Be Finished

A Random Bag of Fries

About This Series

Series Guide

Bibliography

Revision History

Product Description

About the Author

Bonus Preview

More Fun Picture Books

Ad 1: Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Santa's Super Helpers

Ad 2: The Forgetful Alien

Ad 3: My Crazy Pet Frog: The Nightmare Pizza Before Christmas

Thank You!

Support Me on Patreon

To life, and a side of fries...

Secret Agent Disco DancerLaike FrillyfoamFrogwart FiskBook 1: Green Eggs and a Side of Earnest Bacon

There are those that annoy you and those that you wish to put a pie in the face. Secret Agent Disco Dancer is one of the those pied-eyed surprises.

--Earnest T. Bacon, author of Bacon, Eggs and Other Fruity Things in Washington

Chapter 1: F for Frillyfoam or Fiasco?

Chapter 1: F for Frillyfoam or Fiasco?

Earnest T. Bacon, at your service, and the T stands for Trouble if you try to harm this great nation or get in my way of protecting it.

Some say I’m with the Bureau, while others think I must be part of the C.I.A.—a spook if you will. But no one knows what off-the-books programs I belong to, sometimes even me.

That crazy frog that you’ve heard about in the headlines? The truth is I played a part in molding Secret Agent Disco Dancer into the superstar that he is today.

It all started at a convention for new recruits, at a hotel just outside the nation’s capital. Most of the applicants didn’t realize they were applying for the nation’s most exciting and dangerous jobs; thought they had volunteered for a clinical study for a new pill to help rid themselves of headaches. As it turned out, I caused a great number of them in the process, including one migraine that never seems to go away.

By manipulating this variable and that—someone’s finances or a recent personal tragedy (orchestrated by me, of course)—we were able to gather a healthy assembly of the most brilliant minds our great nation had to offer under one roof for cheap.

Of course, there’s the riff raff that eventually drifts in, as is apt to happen.

Hey, free donuts! A green frog about the size of a ten-year old with an intellectual capacity far below that, tossed a few glazed donuts down his pie hole.

I noticed him, wondering if the hotel staff had failed in their responsibility to keep the homeless out. Since I was heading this covert program, I wanted to meet each applicant personally as they signed in, got their badge, and proceeded into the grand ballroom. Unfortunately, I got a front row seat of the walking disaster who would later be known as Secret Agent Disco Dancer.

Name, please? I was already growing impatient with him, watching him gobble down donut after donut and wondering if there would be enough for anyone else.

Frillyfoam. Fredrico Frillyfoam. He licked his fingertips.

Seriously? Is that even a name? I replied.

Yup. That’s me! But you can just call me Fred, as in Fred the Frog. He noticed the chocolate chocolate chip muffins on a tray beside the pastries.

How original. I rolled my eyes. I’m sorry, but I don’t have you on my list. I double checked it for any name that remotely sounded like Fred or its Spanish equivalent and prayed that I didn’t find one. Did you, by chance, bring your invitation to be part of the study with you?

Oh, yeah. He reached into God-knows-where and pulled out a crumpled up piece of paper.

This is a letter of rejection. I frowned, already calculating the cost of the donuts and muffins he’d ingested since arriving here. You scored a nine on the aptitude test.

Nine out of ten isn’t bad. He found the box of cinnamon-flavored Pop Tarts I’d hidden in the planter and inhaled a packet.

Nine out of a hundred, you twit. You’re at the lower edge of the bell curve.

Curve? Do you see curves? He looked himself over. I probably should grab something more healthy. He grabbed a plastic plate and added a bran muffin and large spoonful of diced fruit on it.

Will you stop eating! I got up from my chair, ready to choke my favorite flavor of Pop Tarts back out of him. But as I stood, I had a disastrous thought, one that I’d regret as the years rolled by when Secret Agent Disco Dancer became an icon in our industry. On second thought, why don’t you come inside? We’re always looking for individuals with multiple talents, regardless of which side of the bell curve they’re on.

Gee, thanks. Sorry about the mix-up, said the frog.

Don’t mention it. I swiped the box of Pop Tarts before he had a chance to reconsider his new diet. Now off you go. The presentation’s going to begin in a few minutes.

Swell. Fred took a bite of his bran muffin and moseyed on through the door.

Chapter 2: Variable Intellect

Chapter 2: Variable Intellect

In every study, there’s always at least one control variable that doesn’t change during the course of an experiment. This is for the benefit of the study, so that results can be evaluated objectively and reproduced if the same conditions are duplicated.

But for some of these top secret black ops projects, it was getting increasingly difficult to establish reliable controls to determine whether a certain pharmaceutical was successful or not.

The object of our affection? Human intelligence and its ability to blossom with new techniques and supplements. Since the average intelligence quotient, or i.q. as we call it, was easily above 110 in the room—with one notable exception, of course—it might be difficult to measure the effects of certain compounds on these highly proficient individuals.

A brilliant man with a score of 146 might seem no more measurably brilliant with the aid of a pill even though his new score might put him in the 150s. Those few points could mean the difference between life and death, and whether or not a terrorist plot is thwarted and its mastermind put behind bars.

Every braincell counts.

With no measurable way to detect slight increases in intelligence, even as much as 5%, it’s always good to have an alternate variable to show that the pill is working as intended. Creatures of low intelligence always seem to have the greatest reaction to such supplements, and can serve multiple purposes before they are disposed of.

Still, there are growing pains...

Thank you all for giving up your weekend to participate in this fine study, one that promises to be beneficial to all mankind. I stepped to the podium and adjusted my shades to the spotlight above me.

Cheese Its? Hey, where did you find those? That dastardly frog known as Fred asked the gentleman behind him.

Who here gets headaches? I looked around the room to an array of eager hands. I certainly do. Unfortunately I can see one here, in the front row. I glared at the frog. Now I realize that many of you might be anxious, and I want to alleviate your fears. This study is absolutely painless, and at any time, if you choose to terminate your involvement, you are free to go. The process is quite simple, really. First...

Oh, there they are! Fred grabbed a bag of Cheese Its from a table off to the side of the ballroom and returned to his seat. As he opened the bag, it made an irritating crinkling sound, which is sure to make pigs, such as myself, fly.

Will you stop that? I grumbled. Anyways, it’s quite simple. First, each of you will be given a pill every twelve hours. One now, which you will ingest in your room, and a pair that you will consume at breakfast and dinner on Saturday and Sunday. That’s all. No needles, no injections, no electric saw to the brain.

The crowd laughed.

The whole process is painless, I assure you. I smiled.

I was a good liar. In fact, I’d made a career of it. Unfortunately, that nincompoop frog saw right through me.

Yeah, right. He kicked back in his chair.

Now, we will run tests on Saturday and Sunday. Don’t worry. They’re quite standard. We’ll measure your blood pressure, heart rate, and let you fill out a few word games to make sure that you can focus without pain. At the end of the test, you will receive your full stipend. Leave early, and well, you don’t get a penny of it. Is that clear? I looked around the room.

Eagerly the crowd nodded. All but one, I’m afraid, who was munching away on a bag of Cheetos he’d found on the other side of the ballroom. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that that particular bag wasn’t being provided at the government’s expense. Might some angry participant throttle the frog for grabbing the bag of Cheetos that they’d paid for? I could only hope.

And what if we require further testing? A slender amphibian with light green and tan skin and striking red eyes raised his hand.

He was Prospect #1, the applicant with the highest i.q. in the room, Frogwart Fisk. His intellect even dwarfed this little piggy wiggy’s.

I’m glad you asked. I disregarded the blathering slob burping in the front row. If any of you require further study, and by that I’m not implying that you’ll need to go to the hospital... Though they might. In the event that we need to continue our study, our organization is prepared to pay $10,000 per month for your participation, however long it takes.

You could've heard a pin drop when I unloaded that bombshell. Even that knucklehead of a frog choked on his Cheetos.

$10,000? he croaked.

That’ll buy a lot of glazed donuts, don’t you think? I smiled.

Though no one suspected it, except Fisk most likely, I had them right where I wanted them.

Chapter 3: Hot Tub Halfwit

Chapter 3: Hot Tub Halfwit

For that frog that is ever a thorn in my side, who makes me cringe at the sub-intellects who inhabit this earth and often hold public office, I didn’t have a special pill for him. It was the same pill that everyone else got. He was only useful if I could show some increase in mental aptitude, though I would have been surprised if he had a single braincell to study. Still, it was in my best interest to show results, not just in the new recruits that I was bringing in, but for the pharmaceutical company I’d heavily invested in. Despite the nonsense I was forced to endure, Fred the Frog was my meal ticket who would no sooner be kicked to the curb when Sunday evening’s final session came to a close.

Here you go. I delivered Fred’s supplements to him personally.

Not surprisingly, I found him in the bathroom of his swank hotel room, playing with his rubber ducky.

Hey, isn’t this great? He splashed around. This tub even has jets in them in case you have to...you know... I heard a toot, most likely from his back end, but I wasn’t willing to rule out his brain. His untimely air biscuit rose to the surface and popped, stinking up the bathroom.

It’s a whirlpool tub. Quite common in modern hotels. I tried to waft the stink away with my free hand. Anyways, I came to leave you with this. I handed him a bottle.

Oh, thanks! He jumped out of the tub, grabbed the bottle, and swallowed all five pills.

NO! I gasped, unable to believe my eyes. You’re supposed to take one every twelve hours like I instructed.

Well, down-the-hatch, slam dunk, bye, bye! He dove back in the tub.

If your heart starts beating erratically and your head starts feeling like someone is taking a sledgehammer to it, don’t bother calling 911. You’ll be dead from a brain aneurism in seconds.

Very well. Hey, thanks for stopping by, dude. Fred floated on his back, spitting water out of his mouth.

And use soap, you filthy frog! I shut the door and stomped off.

Chapter 4: Erratically Yours

Chapter 4: Erratically Yours

When it came time to do the 9 a.m. general health check up the following morning, I was surprised to find that nincompoop of a frog at the front of the line. He even had a fresh mint smell about him. Was it possible that he bathed and brushed his teeth?

Still alive? I put my briefcase on the table and sat down. Grand Ballroom A had been converted into a testing facility overnight for all 118 participants. Although many still hadn’t arrived, there was plenty of space for everyone.

Boy am I ever! I don’t know what you gave me, but I feel great. I’ve been up all night doing Sodoku.

Sodoku? Really? I checked his heart rate, which was understandably erratic for the type of frog that he was, not to mention all the sugar he’d inhaled. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure if he knew what Sodoku was, but when he produced the completed booklets that he’d scribbled on from the gift shop, I could see that he could at least write down numbers. Whether or not they were correct was an entirely different matter. Impressive. I looked at them briefly.

That was probably enough to prove that the supplement worked, and I probably could have kicked him to the curb at that point, but I still needed definitive proof that it worked in normal doses.

Well, your heart rate and blood pressure seem a bit high, which is no surprise given the circumstances. Like consuming five times the normal dose of an intelligence supplement while also being a raving lunatic. There are a few word puzzles that I’d like you to complete just to be sure that the brain is functioning as it should be. Tomorrow we’ll do a computer-based version to verify the results.

Yeah, brain. Who was I kidding?

Oh, you mean this? He handed me the filled out survey.

When did you do this?

Just now while you were checking my vitals and taking notes. The stack is sitting right next to you.

That it is. I frowned and thumbed through his answers.

I’d taken the same test as he, but unlike my test subject, I knew that I was actually being tested by a covert agency. The questions had subtle shifts in language designed to mislead and produce incorrect results. Those that saw through the deceit would score high on our recruit list. And that darn frog had passed with flying colors. He even got a few right that I had missed.

Splendid. That will be all. I smiled, and waited for him to walk away before tossing his form in the trashcan.

Chapter 5: Lucky Schmucky

Chapter 5: Lucky Schmucky

When it came time for froggy to receive his evening pill, I made sure that he had only one this time. I found him in the outdoor hot tub overlooking the swimming pool sipping iced tea.

Hey, how’s it hanging, bub? Isn’t this grand? He took in the fading sunlight, which was still too intense for my tender, pink skin.

I came to give you this. I tossed the pill in his mouth.

Mmm...yummy. Got anymore? I’m kinda starving out here, man, said Fred.

They’re not candy, you schmuck! And they can be harmful if you take too many at one time. Didn’t you mommy teach you anything?

Huh? More stinky hot air bubbled to the surface and popped.

I’d like you to do another word puzzle when you have time this evening. I handed him a much harder test, one that caused current agents to grow hair on their palms.

Sure, whatever. He took the stapled packet and pen from me, scribbled down the answers at lightspeed, and handed them back to me. Anything else?

In an effort to prove that his intellectual capacity had dropped sharply after the supplement had worn off, the opposite had happened. His i.q. had actually grown since his last dosage.

All things considered, it could only be one thing: luck. What else could it be?

No, nothing else. I read his answers more carefully as I stepped back in the hotel, and threw away the packet in disgust.

Chapter 6: Green Eggs

Chapter 6: Green Eggs

The truth is, it’s all my fault. I set myself up for this, not believing that that moronic frog could do anything more than repeat the popular brand names of foods he liked.

We were now getting ominously close to the computer-based part of the trial, which I had no intention of letting him take. His answers would be sent directly to headquarters and analyzed in real time. If they saw his sudden rise in aptitude, which was likely a flash-in-the-pan, they’d likely bring him in and I’d never be rid of him. We already had a twelve-year-old boy who was born in the lab. We didn’t need to provide him with a pet frog sidekick.

Leaving me with little choice, I went to his room that morning to ask him to pack his bags and explain why there wouldn’t be anymore pills. But when I arrived at 7 a.m., there was no one there, though there was plenty of water on the bathroom floor.

As I wandered through the back halls, I passed by a restricted area that was unlocked. Oh dread! My heart raced, which is not good for pigs pushing forty. I stepped through the cage door, and continued around a corner to the laboratory at the end. That door was also open, and inside, that wretched frog was chowing down on a pair of gelatin eggs which reminded me of a mixture of green slime and Eggs Benedict.

Hey, these are great. Would you like to try one? Fred offered me a fistful of slime.

No, stop! What are you doing? I screamed.

Just eating a couple green eggs. He gulped them down and burped. Are you here to provide the ham? He winked at me.

Do you realize where you are?

Room service, right? He looked around.

"This is an experimental test facility, and what you just ate is made of highly concentrated iToxx nano-cortical stimulation gel. It’s the raw pharmaceutical, which is usually split into tiny portions and ground into a fine dust for our pills.

Well it wasn’t chocolate chip pancakes or anything, but it certainly hit the spot. Would you happen to have a breath mint handy? said the frog.

Out, out out! I grabbed the frog by his neck and dragged him down the hallway. "We’re done with you. You failed the experiment!" I reached the service door at the far end of the building and was about to push him through when a tall, brown Andalusian horse stepped inside. It was Special Agent Halfwitz, one of my many bosses.

Sorry I’m late. I meant to be here for the kickoff, but I got tied up in D.C. Politics, isn’t it always? he said.

I know exactly what you mean. Don’t worry. I’ve taken care of everything, including taking out the trash. I looked down at the frog.

Who do you have there?

No one. He’s not even supposed to be here, really. I eased up on his throat.

Oh, thanks. For a moment I thought I might get brain damage. The frog gasped for air.

Which was impossible, since you have you to have a brain to begin with.

So did I pass the test? Or do I require further evaluation? said the frog.

I already told you. You failed! I said.

But they’re not pass/fail tests. What were his scores? Halfwitz asked.

Well, the truth is... I kinda lost them... I said, hoping my boss would take my word for it and let me throw him into the pond out back.

That’s ok. I’ll run the tests myself. You haven’t started the computer-based part of the program yet, have you?

Heavens, no! I gasped.

Well, froggy. What do you say? Would you like to take one of these cryptic mind-altering tests that’s sure to leave gray hairs? Halfwitz turned to the pathetic frog.

Why, sure. Especially since I don’t have any actual hair. Fred walked along with him.

No, wait! Please consider what you are saying! I hurried after them.

But it was too late. Far, far too late...

Chapter 7: A Gift Horse and a Name

Chapter 7: A Gift Horse and a Name

I watched them through a one-way mirror in the observation room