floccinaucinihilipilification

Rennie tried to understand, were his dreams just shit hitting the fan. He staggered toward the doorway. The tight skirt resisting his movement.

As he reached the door, the buxom blonde’s long nails violently seized his arm and thrusted him against the wall. The cold metal gun barrel pushed on the back of his ear.

“Hand over your passport Nina” demanded Annie.

Momentarily confused Rennie thought, who the fuck is Nina. The pressure of the gun quickly cleared his thoughts. “Back off, it’s in the travel pouch tucked in the skirt.”

As Annie released her hold, Rennie kicked out her legs and lunged for the gun.

Rennie’s quick action failed much like his whole day.

A round exploded as he tumbled on top of Annie.

A burning flash across his chest stunned him. He was shocked but ok. The Dolly Parton bra and padding lie shredded across the floor. He looked up. Annie stood with the gun pointing down at him. “Now you know it’s loaded,” she shouted.

Iris ran to Rennie and pulled him to his feet. “Don’t shoot,” she pleaded.

“Yes Iris this will go easier without a dead body to dump. Just open his passport. It has information in it to decipher the code.”

Another odd thought floated in Rennie mind. Why do I smell dog shit?

Nina

Douglas flew out of the front door nearly knocking Rennie off his feet.

"RUDE." Said Rennie, trying to regain his poise in the unfamiliar kitten heels that were pinching his toes; he then looked on in horror as Douglas stole his car, which had been idling on Iris's gravel driveway.

"STOP!!" Shouted Rennie, but Douglas was already speeding out of Frigwell Crescent.

Rennie slumped down on Iris's doorstep, put his head in his hands, and then slowly pulled off the Dolly Parton wig. Why oh why had he decided to come to England disguised as Nina Mishsochlopovkovni? Why hadn't he checked the passport before blindly selecting it from his collection? He could have been anyone. He could have been John Brown - business man and candle maker, or Chuck Hudson - a salesman with a penchant for liquorice allsorts, but no, he was now saddled with being Nina Mishsochlopovkovni.

Rennie had never been to England before, and he was finding it all rather grey and squashed. How did the Brits live in these tiny little houses built so close together? He was used to wide open spaces; mountains; big trees; volcanic activity; a large bed; and driving on the right side of the road. Rennie wished he'd stayed home and felt very sorry for himself. Douglas had driven off with all his documents; his jacket; his phone; and most importantly, his connection to SpodeChode. And where was Iris? Either Iris would do right now, even the Iris-bot would be useful.

Rennie kicked off the kitten heels, and without the wig he simply looked like a man in a dress who was rather upset and lost.

"PPSSSSSSTTTTTT, over here....... are you deaf or what??"

Rennie looked up and saw a blonde woman holding a large gun beckoning him towards her house.....