The Spy Who Snacked with Me. AKA, Royale with Cheez-its

At 6:15 this morning, I thought of James Bond. Actually, I was swimming in our pool (and freezing), and then the giant inflatable dolphin scared me so I had to toss it from the pool. Which made me think of that one James Bond movie where he swims underwater and there's some scene with a diver and maybe someone gets stabbed? IDK. But anyway, that led me to wondering who would play the next Bond. There's been a lot of debate over that, at least according to Yahoo News. And Twitter. So you know, it's legit.

And I got to thinking. What if the new 007 had a new secretary? A sort of flakier, think-she's-still-youngish-but-isn't-really, doesn't-quite-have-her-s***t-together Moneypenney. Let's call her NickelSlots.

And they have a thing -- because of course they do. He's a super cool spy, she's a hot mess. It's a Moonlighting meets Remington Steele meets Bridget Jonesian sort of thing.

And then, naturally, I had to play out the scene in my head.

Scene I:

JB (Strides into room, flicks invisible fleck of dust from impeccably tailored suit and perches on desk). Addresses secretary: NickelSlots,you ravishing creature, did you miss me?

NS (looks up, stashes magazine surreptitiously in trash can): "What? Oh, hey 7. S'up?"

JB: NickelSlots, I asked if you missed me!

NS: Um, yeah! Of course. I mean, obviously I missed you. Wait, did you go somewhere?

JB (to himself): It's like why did I even come back? Yes, I went somewhere. A little place called the Middle East.

NS: Did you have a good trip?

JB: A good trip? I fought ISIS, NickelSlots.

NS: Oh right. So, not good then?

JB: NickelSlots, don't be such a tease. Fetch me a drink. You know the way I like it, shaken, not stirred.

NS: Oh. So about that. The vodka's gone.

JB: What do you mean? Where did it go?

NS: I took it to book club.

JB: You took vodka to a book club?

NS: Duh.

JB: Why do you drink at a book club?

NS: Why would you NOT drink at a book club?

JB (sighs): NickelSlots, do you have anything to drink?

NS: Yeah. Hold on. Want some wine? (Holds up bottle of Yellow Tail Chardonnay).

JB (disgustedly): Oh. Fine. Do you have anything to eat with that?

NS: Goldfish?

JB: Nickel, really. Haven't you any Cheez-its, at least?

NS: Please. You know Cheez-its go straight to my hips.

JB: Oh, yes, let's talk about your hips.

NS: Let's not. Actually, let's talk about your expense report.

JB: Uh...

NS (fiddles with drawer, brings out receipt): So says here you wrecked an Asto-something?

JB: An Aston Martin, NickelSlots. A very nice car.

NS: Yeah, well I don't care if it was Ashton Kutchner, this bill's like $200 grand. What the hell?

JB: Let me explain.

NS: Hold up, hold up, I'ma let you finish. But first? Explain this (holds up photo of attractive blonde).

JB. Oh. That.

NS: Uh-huh.

JB: That's Svetlana Oblisky. KGB.

NS: KGB my ass. Svetlana rides the pole at Babydolls, doesn't she?

JB (leering): when am I going to ride your pole, NickelSlots?

NS: Soon as you pay me back all the singles from petty cash. I make $50K and you get your salary in, like, gold bars or something.

JB: NickelSlots, you know I'll always take care of you.

NS: Take care of your s*** . The rest of us have to pay for stuff, you know. Even the queen pays taxes.

JB: Royal family stalking again, are we?

NS: I don't know what you're talking about.

JB: What's that magazine you're trying to hide in the dustbin, Nickels?

NS: What magazine? There's no magazine.

JB: Prince Harry's on the cover of OK! again, isn't he?

NS: Shut up. No. I don't even read that. Also? Prince Harry was on the cover last week.

JB: Aha. I know you too well, NickelSlots. When are we going to do this?

NS: Do what?

JB: Us. You and me. Man and woman. The beast with two backs.

NS: British guys are so polite. It's like you can't even be crude without quoting a 16th century playwright.

JB: Oh, you slay me. Answer me, Nicks. When are we going to face the inevitable and give in to our baser natures?

NS: Right now.

JB: Seriously?

NS: Seriously.

JB (loosens tie): Oh NickelSlots.

NS: Nice tie. Is that gray?

JB: Fifty shades of it, darling.

NS: I love it when you street talk me, 007. Open my desk drawer.

JB: Oooh, yes. What's in here? Toys? Whips?

NS: Better.

JB: Now you've aroused my curiosity. What could be better? Handcuffs? (Peers in drawer)

NS: You'll see.

JB: Oh, NickelSlots.

NS: Oh, James.

JB: Are those what I think they are?

NS: Yes they are.

JN: I love it when you're naughty, Nicks.

NS: Bust out the Cheez-its, 007. I snack hardcore.

THE END