9. His emaciated peach-fuzzed face…
Today’s Prompt
9. His emaciated peach-fuzzed face is covered in blackheads and his hair looks as if someone saved him from drowning in a barrel by pulling him up by his locks.
400 Creative Writing Prompts Workbook Story Prompts for Journaling, Blogging, and Overcoming Writer’s Block Compiled by Debra Chapoton All rights reserved Copyright © 2020 by Debra Chapoton
Response
“This guy? Really, this guy?” I looked at her incredulously.
“Hey, remember what you looked like when you were first recruited?” replied Stacy with a wicked little half grin.
“Yeah, yeah, no need to go there,” I replied.
Stacy and I were stationed across the street from a place called Lou’s BBQ where our target seemed to be doing his best to keep up with serving a lunch rush of the outdoor seating and not succeeding very well. I could immediately see three different tables that all seemed annoyed at him.
“But, c’mon, even I didn’t look quite so pathetic.” I appealed to my senior partner.
“I don’t know. I seem to recall a kid that was all gangly and awkward. And so adorably intimidated when I introduced myself.”
“Yeah, well, first, you are intimidating to look at; it’s only after getting to know you a little that we learn you’re a big marshmallow in the middle.”
Stacy opened her mouth to respond, but I didn’t give her a chance.
“And second, when you recruited me I at least looked the part of an agent. Look at this kid, though.”
As he fumbled filling water glasses from a pitcher, I couldn’t help note just how, well, unattractive the kid was. His emaciated peach-fuzzed face was covered in blackheads and his hair looked like someone saved him from drowning in a barrel by grabbing him on either side of the head and yanking upward by that hair. Had the kid never heard of gel or product or at least water?
“You know looks don’t matter, Frank,” Stacy remonstrated. “We look for all physical types, the better to infiltrate, while demanding outstanding performance in a host of other areas.”
I was nodding, because of course I knew. I’d just passed my exams in those very areas (infiltration, disguise, undercover identity creation and maintenance, etc.) to qualify for this first mission with my mentor at my side.
“So how shall we do this?” I asked.
“Your first mission, you tell me,” she replied with that mischievous glint in her eye that told me this was a test, even if the academy’s exams were done, the evaluating never really ends.
“I think we wait til his shift is over, observing what we can for ourselves in the meantime, and when he heads to the cable car, we intercept and issue the invite.” Stacy nodded, accepting my suggestion and settling into the van’s seat. We were going to be sitting here a while.
