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Agent Colins(Mission: Tuwon Shinkafa)
An assignment from #Caiineyy
My name, Colins, my friends call me Colling and my enemies calls me The Hanger—bwa ha ha ha. sorry for that. Today I am going to bring an end to one delicacy. Oh did I mention that I am an undercover agent specialized in food criticism, that mean I criticize delicacy and whichever one I find unhealthy or out of place is extinct from the society. I love good food and really really really hate badly presented dish which makes my job my first love—maybe second or third, i can't really say— because it affords me the opportunity to travel all round the world to experience and test dishes that are alien to others and attached to the package is the power of extinction.
Today my next target is in the northern part of the country Nigeria, and Intel tells me it is a thick pudding prepared from a local rice or Maize or millet that is soft and sticky, and is usually served with different types of soups like Miyan kuka, Miyan kubewa, to mention a few. And yes my name is Hungry Colins and I'm an undercover agent.
At exactly eighteen-hundred west African time, I will be in the same ring with my new found prey and I am pretty sure this battle would be deadly, in the end only one would come out alive and that would be me *smirk*.
"Spoons" "check", "knives" "check", "straws" "check"—fast forward— "blah-blah" "check" "blah" "check"—one can't be too prepared— finally, "stomach-empty" "check", good. It is going to be a bloody battle. And did I mention I am hungry Colins the super spy, sorry, the undercover agent.
Snoring. Beep-beep, beep-beep. eeeee-Yes! It is time. Tuwon Shinkafa are you ready cause i am. In five, four, three, two, zero. Boooom!
Before me lay the culprit, Mr. Tuwon surnamed Shinkafa. Today you are going down. Instantly I pulled out all my weapons of war and was passionately mocked when Mr tuwon took his stance— being an expert in hand-to-hand martial art combat. So as a noble man which I am *brows flicked-up twice*, I flung away my weapons and said in a fake baritone voice "we settle this mano-a-mano— that means man to man by the way—, rised my hands up in the most elegant of posture then drove it back downwards breaking the barrier of sound—i mean sound barrier— into the white soup-stained round stage where Mr tuwon await me.
The battle went on for hours as my body began to evolve into the cloud pouring down its warrior-rain in all their ranks. Right hook, left jab, upper cut again and again, it was as though no matter how I tried to tackle, Mr Tuwon was ready for me.
Then finally, the battle, it was over and I was lying faced down defeated because every flavour packed a punch that sent me round the galaxy and back. All I could say is, Why, why, whyyyy! I have never been this defeated before not ever, in all my year in service. Did I mention I am Hungry Colins and I am, I think I am cover-agent inspector. Damn, I have forgotten who I am. A total defeat. *Breathe out heavy in surrendered-ness*
"Colins would you stop your make-believe undercover mission and bring the plate to the kitchen this instance", "yes ma". *Whispering* and finally, uhm I am Hungry Colins, the food inspector, I mean the undercover agent.
© philo_sophia
My name, Colins, my friends call me Colling and my enemies calls me The Hanger—bwa ha ha ha. sorry for that. Today I am going to bring an end to one delicacy. Oh did I mention that I am an undercover agent specialized in food criticism, that mean I criticize delicacy and whichever one I find unhealthy or out of place is extinct from the society. I love good food and really really really hate badly presented dish which makes my job my first love—maybe second or third, i can't really say— because it affords me the opportunity to travel all round the world to experience and test dishes that are alien to others and attached to the package is the power of extinction.
Today my next target is in the northern part of the country Nigeria, and Intel tells me it is a thick pudding prepared from a local rice or Maize or millet that is soft and sticky, and is usually served with different types of soups like Miyan kuka, Miyan kubewa, to mention a few. And yes my name is Hungry Colins and I'm an undercover agent.
At exactly eighteen-hundred west African time, I will be in the same ring with my new found prey and I am pretty sure this battle would be deadly, in the end only one would come out alive and that would be me *smirk*.
"Spoons" "check", "knives" "check", "straws" "check"—fast forward— "blah-blah" "check" "blah" "check"—one can't be too prepared— finally, "stomach-empty" "check", good. It is going to be a bloody battle. And did I mention I am hungry Colins the super spy, sorry, the undercover agent.
Snoring. Beep-beep, beep-beep. eeeee-Yes! It is time. Tuwon Shinkafa are you ready cause i am. In five, four, three, two, zero. Boooom!
Before me lay the culprit, Mr. Tuwon surnamed Shinkafa. Today you are going down. Instantly I pulled out all my weapons of war and was passionately mocked when Mr tuwon took his stance— being an expert in hand-to-hand martial art combat. So as a noble man which I am *brows flicked-up twice*, I flung away my weapons and said in a fake baritone voice "we settle this mano-a-mano— that means man to man by the way—, rised my hands up in the most elegant of posture then drove it back downwards breaking the barrier of sound—i mean sound barrier— into the white soup-stained round stage where Mr tuwon await me.
The battle went on for hours as my body began to evolve into the cloud pouring down its warrior-rain in all their ranks. Right hook, left jab, upper cut again and again, it was as though no matter how I tried to tackle, Mr Tuwon was ready for me.
Then finally, the battle, it was over and I was lying faced down defeated because every flavour packed a punch that sent me round the galaxy and back. All I could say is, Why, why, whyyyy! I have never been this defeated before not ever, in all my year in service. Did I mention I am Hungry Colins and I am, I think I am cover-agent inspector. Damn, I have forgotten who I am. A total defeat. *Breathe out heavy in surrendered-ness*
"Colins would you stop your make-believe undercover mission and bring the plate to the kitchen this instance", "yes ma". *Whispering* and finally, uhm I am Hungry Colins, the food inspector, I mean the undercover agent.
© philo_sophia
