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Dun dun DON DON, dun dun DON DON DON

Good morning, Agent Ryan. We have a situation in Koreatown. You’ve just found the perfect apartment, and the approval of your application will commence in 48 hours, at which time you’ll be required to pay a hefty deposit. But last night, $300 was automatically charged to your bank account by your health provider. You forgot that you set up those damn automatic payments.

You’re now $300 short of the amount you’ll need to pay the deposit on your new apartment. You can’t sell stuff online, because Paypal takes 3-5 days to deposit money into your account, and the apartment will be rented by someone else by then. You can’t ask your friends for a loan, because nobody you’ve ever met in person particularly likes you. You can’t beg your parents for a loan because they live in Minnesota, and a check from them would take 2-4 days to arrive by mail.

Also, we’re pretty sure your parents don’t like you, either. You’re 33 years old, unmarried, and have a large collection of toy figurines. It’s clear that they merely tolerate you.

There is only one path to success, Agent Ryan. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to be a douche. An impossible douche. A Mission: Impossible douche. Douche it up, and you shall get the apartment you desire. Play it honest, and you’ll instead find yourself drinking pee in the back of a camper that’s parked in the middle of the ghetto.

Some might argue that living in Koreatown is pretty much the same as drinking pee in the back of a camper, but we digress.

Our intel has informed us that your current landlord is a lazy twat, and has not yet cashed your last month’s rent check. So that money is still in your account. She usually cashes checks on Friday afternoon. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to take out a money order for the new apartment’s deposit before your old landlord cashes your rent check. The $300 of overdraft charges from that rent check will then go onto your overdraft credit card with a mere $15 fee.

What? You already accepted the mission when I mentioned it two paragraphs ago? Well that seems rather hasty. What if your mission had been to eat poop? What if I had pooped in an ice cream cone and handed it to you? I don’t make these long, explanatory recordings for fun, Agent Ryan. You’re supposed to choose them because you like them. This isn’t a Pakistani wedding, damn it.

Look, I’m not going to argue with you, sweetheart. You do whatever you want. Just don’t blame me when you end up walking through Compton dressed in a poorly constructed Aunt Jemima costume, or punching a toddler to death in a Korean How I Met Your Mother themed amusement park. I’m just looking out for you here.

Back to the mission. This will not be an easy task, Agent Ryan. Mainly because you’re lazy and forgetful, and will probably walk around all day like an asshole saying “Wasn’t there something I was supposed to do today?” Then at 4pm, you’ll remember and it will be too late. Do you remember Patrice’s birthday, Agent Ryan? Do you?! She was a wonderful dog, and you didn’t buy her any gifts.

What were we talking about again? Ah yes, the mission. Which mission again? I make a lot of these tapes. An unreasonable number of them, actually. We have hundreds of agents working every day, so I pretty much just spend my entire life in this little room recording tapes. And the tapes always self-destruct at the end. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother, to be honest.

Yes, it does get lonely down here sometimes. I once used a red marker to draw a pair of lips on my hand, and then I . . . well, it’s not important. Have you ever attempted to make love to a mini fridge, Agent Ryan? No, you’re right. That’s probably not an appropriate question to ask an agent. By the way, are you in a relationship? Do you have a picture of your girlfriend that I could keep?

Hey Lenny, what’s the score of the Louisville game? 6-2? Well, I guess I asked a little too early then. Keep me updated, Agent CBS.

What’s that, Agent Ryan? The mission? Yes, the mission! Let’s finish that. Just a question first: Why does taking out a money order from your own bank account need to involve the spy agency? Is this mission really using our resources well? Next are we going to spend millions of dollars on a mission where an agent is asked to check his own e-mail or flush the toilet after using it?

All right, fine. No one wants advice from ol’ Clarence. I’ll just sit here making tapes by myself. Maybe the next one will have a deep cut from John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band on it. Carry on. This message – which I have lovingly crafted despite the appreciation of no one at this spy agency – will self destruct in five seconds. Good luck, Agent Ryan.

The tape self destructs as the song “Higher Ground” plays.

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