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SECRET AGENT DISCO DANCER has a super-sized problem. He forgot to give Santa his wish list, and faces the real possibility that his kids might not get any Christmas presents when the joyous day rolls around. SANTA CLAUS is nowhere to be found, and there don't appear to be any flights in or out of the North Pole. Traveling to the frozen wasteland might offer some clues...if one could get there... GRUBER, Black Eagle's most junior member, has been instructed to keep a certain crazy frog away from the experimental rocket packs and (most importantly) the annual Twinkie supply. "But it's Christmas," Secret Agent Disco Dancer tells Gruber. "What harm could there be in taking one of the rocket packs for a spin?" Approximately 18,500 words, 40+ pieces of artwork and easily the craziest Secret Agent Disco Dancer adventure yet!
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Odsłuch ebooka (TTS) dostepny w abonamencie „ebooki+audiobooki bez limitu” w aplikacjach Legimi na:
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: Government Issue
My Crazy Pet Frog: I Gave My Pizza A Spanking
My Crazy Pet Frog (The original picture book!)
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Santa's Super Helpers
My Crazy Pet Frog: The Nightmare Pizza Before Christmas (Coming Soon)
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: You Don't Know Jack
Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Soccer Star
© 2017 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.
Written, edited and produced in the United States of America. Scott Gordon is proud to represent beautiful Orlando, Florida.
Image(s) licensed by DepositPhotos.com and © Marina Anokhina (#21190413), Alexandr Shirokov (#43772971), Oleksandr Moroz (#29929995), Julien Tromeur (#4370818, #53644745, #6059444, #6584278, #76945239, #41945641, #169961484, #6418029, #66171693, #4371390, #35635291, #4371381, #129297974), Olekcii Mach (#151300086), Дмитрий Мизинцев (#9893179), Michael Osterrieder (#28011259), Jacek Jędrzejowski (#91648458, #91648328, #91648332), Teguh Mujiono (#83642136), Olga Yastremska (#26604995), Yuri Karelin (#82080168, #82077766, #54399265, #53521025), George Nazlis (#122802924), Oleg Zhevelev (#3638719), Satomi Yanai (#74483289), Roberto Rizzo (#16324867), Santosh Chavan (#13757058), Eric Isselée (#173172084, #10873103), Evgenii Naumov (#111920204) and Lukas Gojda (#57353853). Extended licenses provided by Dreamstime Stock Photos and Deposit Photos. Black and white frog illustration(s) by Alfredo Intoci. Outrageous ads by Wallock Art.
First Edition (v1.0)
Published on November 28, 2017
Last updated on June 1, 2018
Also by Scott Gordon
Chapter 1: Extra Crispy
Chapter 2: Flight Plan
Chapter 3: Gadget
Chapter 4: Security Hole
Chapter 5: Family Feud
Chapter 6: Beastly
Chapter 7: Great Googley Moogley
Chapter 8: Plausible Deniability
Chapter 9: Fishsicle
Chapter 10: Busted
Chapter 11: Frog Legs
Chapter 12: Surfin’ U.S.A.
Chapter 13: Signature Smell
Chapter 14: Sergey
Chapter 15: Brotherly Love
Chapter 16: Mompops
Chapter 17: Super Size Me
Chapter 18: A Basket Full of Offerings
Chapter 19: Technical Support
Chapter 20: Executive Decision
Chapter 21: Good Vibrations
Chapter 22: Doomed
Chapter 23: Loaner
Chapter 24: Cookies and Dragonfire
Chapter 25: Star
Chapter 26: Stinger
Chapter 27: No Quiero
Chapter 28: Father Frost, II
Chapter 29: The Gift
Chapter 30: And a Merry Christmas for All
About This Series
Taco Bell Disclaimer
Domino’s Pizza Disclaimer
About the Author
More Fun Picture Books
Ad 1: Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Burger Blues
Ad 2: The Forgetful Alien
Ad 3: Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Soccer Star
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the top secret government black ops field office, not a creature was stirring except for a diabolical pig with devious designs on taking over the world and other self-serving plans, a crazy disco dancing frog, and, well, the entire I.T. staff...
“I can’t believe they’re having us work on Christmas Eve.” Secret Agent Disco Dancer propped up his feet on the desk and leaned back in his chair.
“Yeah, tell me about it,” said Gruber, a twelve-year old genius and the youngest agent ever to work for Black Eagle. His glasses looked like the bottoms of Coke bottles, his hair short, straight, and spiky. Although it was cold out, he wore shorts. Even Secret Agent Disco Dancer couldn’t believe his boss, the brown Andalusian Special Agent Halfwitz, let him get away with it.
Gruber rolled up his diagrams, which detailed where to add additional firewalls and other security measures to make the network impervious to outside hackers, and slid them into a long cardboard tube.
“Don’t you know? Evil never rests. And, well...it’s not like you numbskulls were doing anything, anyways.” Earnest T. Bacon, the T undoubtedly for Trouble, stepped into the frog’s office with a present in hand--a black bow over black wrapping paper.
“If I had my Firetoad clearance, I’d be more useful.” Secret Agent Disco Dancer sat up straight. “It’s crazy, really. Even though I have a direct line to the president, I can’t read my own memos--even from missions that I took part in!"
“Need-to-know, froggy woggy, need-to-know. And it’s better that you don’t know anything. Not that you do, anyways.” Earnest coughed, surprised at the venom coming out of his mouth that eve. “Although it pains me to say this: Merry Christmas, Secret Agent Disco Dancer. You survived your first year, which is longer than I ever thought you’d last. For that, you deserve a reward.” The pig set the gift down carefully on the desk.
“Really? I don’t know what to say...”
“Well, if I were in the Christmas spirit, I’d say don’t open it,” Earnest thought to himself and grinned.
“That’s not fair. I didn’t get you anything,” said the frog.
“There’s always next Christmas,” Earnest smirked as he said it. He walked away as fast as his short, little legs could carry him, hoping Secret Agent Disco Dancer did not hear the ticking coming from inside the package.
“Wow, that’s nice of him. Is that the same pig?” Gruber peeked down the hallway at the fleeing swine, then back at the gift. “So what do you think it is?”
“Oh, it’s a bomb, of course. Say, can you hand me that jar?” Secret Agent Disco Dancer pointed to a glass jar filled to the brim with popcorn kernels.
“Sure.” Gruber fetched it for him and readjusted his glasses.
“As they always say, when life hands you lemons, make lemonade; or in this case, when covert assassins in the highest places of government hand you bombs...” He reached inside his desk, grabbed a blast bag, unzipped it, tossed in Earnest’s gift, sprinkled popcorn kernels on top, and zipped it back up. “Make popcorn!” He shook the contents around until the bomb detonated.
The bag jumped out of Secret Agent Disco Dancer’s hand, expanding several times its normal size before ultimately deflating. He put his head up against it and heard the faint sound of popping. “Ooh... I think it’s almost ready... You wouldn’t happen to have any butter handy, would you?”
Gruber checked his pockets and shook his head, mortified one of his coworkers had tried to take out the outrageous frog, and perhaps, him.
Secret Agent Disco Dancer unzipped the bag and gaped at the charred remains inside. “Oh Orville, what have they done to you? Well, so much for smoked brisket popcorn.” He dumped the blast bag in the trashcan, which caught fire.
“You’re not going to report this?” Gruber asked.
“Report what? It’s Christmas!” Secret Agent Disco Dancer grabbed a fire extinguisher from around the corner and put out the fire.
“But he gave you a bomb.”
“That’s not the worst he’s given me.”
“Right. So, uh... What did you get your children for Christmas?”
“Great Scott!” The frog nearly jumped out of his skin. “Tomorrow’s Christmas! How did it sneak up on me?” He looked around and double-checked his calendar. “Oh, the horror! I didn’t get the children anything. Quick, there isn’t any time to lose.” He hopped out of his chair.
“What is it, Secret Agent Disco Dancer? You want to go to the mall? I hear Pentagon City is open ‘til midnight.”
“That won’t help at all, especially since the post office shut down for the holidays.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
“I need to speak to the main man himself if my children have any hope of getting Christmas presents. I must find...Santa Claus!” Secret Agent Disco Dancer held one finger high, the fire reigniting in the waste basket behind him.
“Wow. You still believe in Santa?” said Gruber, swiping his badge and walking through the sliding doors.
“Well, don’t you?” Secret Agent Disco Dancer took a seat beside him among rows of servers in the cool backroom of the I.T. department.
“It’s been awhile since anyone’s mentioned Santa.” Gruber typed his password into his laptop and fired up the custom mapping software he’d created, hoping to grab Google’s attention once his stint with the U.S. government was over.
“So how do you get your presents when the holidays roll around?” the frog asked.
“I don’t, actually. If I need something, I just buy it.”
“But what about your family? Surely you buy presents for them.”
“It would be great if I actually had a family. In fact, if I believed in Santa, that’s exactly what I’d ask for--a family. But I was engineered in a laboratory. An act of science gave birth to me.”
“But you must have a family! That’s why it’s so important that we locate Santa.”
“Ok, so let’s assume you’re right.” Gruber cleaned his glasses with a small, gray rag from his shirt pocket. “Does it really work? Making a Christmas list and all?”
“Of course! Every time I tell Santa what I want for Christmas, I find it right under my tree. Except one time, when Santa mixed up the presents. I got some kind of strange electric sausage or something. Anyways, it’s just a matter of locating him at this point. Now according to the stories, he’s located in the North Pole. So what do you say? Do you see anything that might resemble his secret toy factory? Perhaps you could spot an elf or two playing in the snow with our satellites’ thermal cameras?”
“Not according to my scans.” Gruber searched the icy landscape, which looked like a negative from a roll of microfilm. “There are a few homes scattered here and there, but nothing of the scale we’re looking for.”
“So is that his ingenious disguise? To hide out in the open, amid humble homes that don’t look like they could be remotely affiliated with Santa, only to be sitting atop a major underground toy factory?” Secret Agent Disco Dancer scratched his chinny chin chin. “Wait, stop. What about that house, there?” He pointed to the map.
“What about it?” said Gruber.
“See the lines in the snow around the yard?”
“That could be an underground bunker. Sleeping quarters for his elf minions, no doubt!”
“Or it could just be a natural formation or compression artifacts from the satellite.”
“Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out. You and I will have to go to the North Pole to investigate!”
“No thanks. It’s already cold enough here,” said Gruber. “Besides, you’ll need me back in Ops to support you just in case it isn’t Santa’s secret hideaway and you have to search other homes in the area.”
“Good thinking, Gruber! Now all I need is a way to get there. Do you think the monorail has a stop that far north? It does go from Orlando to Washington, D.C. Why not the North Pole?”
“I highly doubt it,” said Gruber.
“Bummer! And it’s too late to book a flight.”
“Do they offer flights to the North Pole?”
“Someone has to. It’s Santa we’re talking about here!” The frog paced back and forth. “Let’s see. How about by train? I could always catch a ride aboard the Polar Express.”
“Good luck with that one. I doubt they’ve been in operation since 1985.”
“Right, and even if they were, they’d probably be booked. Hmm, let’s see... The Love Boat would take too long...and forget about Titanic! By car? Nope, too many tolls along the way...”
“Ugh! What am I missing? There’s gotta be a way!” Secret Agent Disco Dancer stopped and looked at Gruber.
“Well, I guess I could strap you to a rocket and send you over the polar ice cap.” Gruber laughed.
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