FYI: the program of daily awesomeness begins later today.
The next twittertale, “Bridezilla”, begins April 1.
I unclipped Yen’s handcuffs and went down on one knee under the tropical sun of her prison-island home. “My darling, will you marry me?”
“’Kay,” she said.
I stood and kissed her tenderly, then ran for the chaplain. When he was ready to go, I decided to freshen up.
* (3 hour gap)
I emerged resplendent to find the priest knocked out, my ornithopter gone, and my fiancé. . . well, she was obviously still doing her hair.
The love of my life, gone! She may still be cross that I killed her power-mad mum. But surely she doesn’t STILL want to destroy the world?
Time to be a super-handsome super-spy again. Thank goodness for plastic surgery. Yen was born in Beijing, so I got a flight there at once.
I was met at the airport by a strangely attractive nun who took me deep underground before telling me the horrible truth: “Yen’s my cousin.”
In laws! They’re always so tetchy. I let the nun torture me a few hours and then knocked her out with a high-kick to the face. Then I fled.
I searched for Yen in the shopping district. As I tried on an especially snazzy shirt in the back, I heard the nun’s nasal tones.
The evil nun was apparently in league with my shopkeeper! A deadly pair! I duct-taped shut the mouths of the other patrons and listened in.
“Yen’s in Beijing – and so’s that British superspy,” said the nun.
The shopkeeper said, “We’ll kill them both!”
“Perfect. Hey, nice shirts!”
I bought hundreds of TV and streetside ads warning Yen of her mortal danger – and asking her to pretty please return my ornithopter.
As I returned to my hotel after another day of searching, I found a single long-stemmed black rose on my pillow. She still loved me!
I spotted Yen trying on shoes and gave chase. She was too quick, but I taped my two high-tech matchbox cars to my feet for more speed.
Matchbox-car skating requires the perfect balance that only MI6 training can give. Unfortunately it’s been a while and I crashed into Yen.
I clicked my sleeping-gas pen in her face and carried her over the threshold into my – our – hotel room until she regained consciousness.
Yen awoke, but didn’t seem to appreciate the scattered rose petals or the scented candles surrounding her. Then she peeled off her mask!
I gasped, “Mrs Fu!”
“In the flesh!”
“But. . . I threw you into a volcano. I think your daughter may still be miffed.”
“Mums are made tough.”
After we’d caught up on the latest in international spy goss, Mrs Fu and I tested one another with tea. I gave her just a pinch of arsenic.
I tasted my own tea cautiously. Cyanide, yes. But only a token amount. Mrs Fu and I understood one another perfectly: no death – for now.
Mrs Fu said she knew exactly where Yen was hiding. We caught a train to the Great Wall. “Um, isn’t the Great Wall rather. . . long?” I said.
We searched all night and day. Suddenly we found ourselves surrounded by Shaolin monks. “He’s with me,” said Mrs Fu.
They said, “We’re not.”
I grabbed my trusty blow-up gum but the monks wore titanium robes. No fair! They whipped out pens – strangely familiar pens. Noooo!!!
Regained consciousness briefly while having a dream about killer mushrooms. One of the monks hit me on the head, and the mushrooms returned.
I awoke strapped to the Great Wall with my own duct tape. Had intense déjà vu. Mrs Fu was taped beside me, and so was a black rose.
“It’s all right Mrs Fu – Yen must be safe if she’s given me a rose.”
“Great. End of story then. I’m afraid Yen no longer needs our help.”
I said, “But. . . it can’t be the end. I haven’t done anything heroic yet.”
“Why don’t you heroically help me down, then?” said Mrs Fu.
Mrs Fu and I walked back along the wall while she tried to explain something about my relationship with Yen. I’m sure it wasn’t important.
My shoe phone rang. I answered, “Bind. Jimmy Bind.”
“HQ here. We need you to track the fugitive Yen Fu. Naturally she’s been microchipped.”
Mrs Fu and I followed the beeps back to a cunningly disguised lair beneath the Great Wall. We hid ourselves outside and waited.
A Shaolin monk came out, and Mrs Fu kicked him in his monk parts. I clicked him with sleeping gas, and we dragged him into the bushes.
Another monk! I barrelled out and hurled him to the ground. He punched me in the belly but I bashed his head against his titanium robe.
Yen emerged. “Mu-um! You couldn’t just knock?”
“They drugged us,” I said.
Yen shrugged: “Boys will be boys. Won’t you come in?”
Mrs Fu said, “Jimmy here found out something useful.”
Yen’s jaw dropped (I’m not sure why): “What did you find out?”
I told her everything.
Yen said, “Hmm. Thanks for that, guys. What do you say we go kill my evil cousin?”
“Sounds good,” said Mrs Fu.
I said, “I’m in.”
The monks were hurt we beat them up. Lucky monks are so forgiving. They helped us build a boat out of duct tape so we could travel quickly.
On our way to Beijing, we were hurled ashore by a massive waterfall. I could have sworn the monks didn’t mention it – or my ornithopter.
As we walked the last kilometres to Beijing, I picked flowers for Yen and said, “Thanks for the roses.”
“What roses?” she said.
We searched the shopping district for hours without finding the nun or the shopkeeper. The two Fus were disheartened.
Success at last! Still no sign of the evil nun, but I found some pants that are simply divine.
We were perfectly innocently walking along when the nun attacked! She tossed Yen away like a doll and blasted Mrs Fu with a shotgun.
Yen shouted, “You never mentioned she was a NUN!”
“Oops!” I said, and spat my blow-up gum.
My gum missed the nun and incinerated a hotel.
Twenty more nuns appeared and Yen backflipped away. I threw one of my cars at the first nun’s head and she dropped, but I was overwhelmed.
It was nice to be back in the ol’ torture chamber. Yen’s cousin smirked, “Did you like my roses?”
I gasped, “That was YOU!?!”
Mrs Fu sighed.
I speak thirty-two languages, but Yen spoke one I didn’t know: “Ixnay on the osesray! Immyjay’s inemay!”
What could she possibly have said?
Yen never had a yen for me! She only became my fiancé to get off the isle of her imprisonment. What a fool I am! But I still love her.
The nun tortured me alone, and suddenly switched to Barry White and more black roses. I recognise the signs of Jimmy fever when I see them!
I said, “You’re a very pretty. . . nun. . . but I’m engaged.”
She put me in the electric chair. We certainly had a spark, but I loved Yen.
The nun challenged Yen to fisticuffs over me. She landed a fabulous right hook, but Yen high-kicked her in the face. We escaped!
I sighed, “Now I REALLY want to marry you.”
“Yes!” said Yen.
I gasped and said, “Are you free tomorrow?”
She smiled, “Yes.”
When I saw Yen in her red wedding dress walking toward me, with her dark eyes sparkling, I swallowed my blow-up gum. Then the nuns attacked!
Twelve evil nuns somersaulted over the reserved seats to pummel my darling. I ran to fight but there were so many! Then the monks joined in!
Two nuns grappled a monk as Yen twisted to yank an enemy’s starched headdress, throwing her to the ground. “This is MY day!” Yen shrieked.
Yen yawned and stretched: “Time to rejoin the fight?”
“Whatever you like, my dear.”
We had breakfast and went back to the church.
The nuns and monks were down to three on three – including Yen’s cousin. I went straight for her, and punched her right in the kisser.
The fight dispersed quickly. Yen and I shot her mad cousin (four times each), then blew her up. Just to be sure.
Yen and I rested while we discussed possible honeymoon destinations. She borrowed my shoe and called her Mum for a long talk.
“Mum took the nun pieces and tossed them in a volcano.”
“How reassuring. Is Mrs Fu OK?”
“Tired. Says she wants to retire somewhere sunny.”
I had a brilliant idea, and snuck over to Mrs Fu’s house.
“You’re nabbed!” I said.
She said, “Never!” and kicked me so hard I saw stars.
Luckily Mrs Fu’s kick also set off my sleeping-gas pen – and I woke up first. I tied her up and left her with a note at a friend’s lair.
Yen expertly flew my – our – ornithopter back to the tropical island where I proposed. Mrs Fu was waiting for us in her own luxury cell.
Yen said, “Oh, sweetheart, you shouldn’t have!”
Mrs Fu said, “No really. You SHOULDN’T have. Although. . . it IS sunny.”