The slamming cargo hold door jolted Jim Phelps awake. In moments, darkness enveloped him.
Damn! This is so classic. That IMF have screwed
me over for the last time! Apparently the IMF had always had no patience
with the slightest infractions. He refused to remember the shady deals he had made over the
years FOR the IMF.
Rays of light
cut through large rusted metal hole in the corner. Opening a crate of Speedos ,
Jim formed a chain of the colorful swimwear and
retrieved his “Grappling hook in minutes!” from his secret spy tool
belt. Having won First Prize in Grappling Hook Throw at the annual "IMF
Olympics", Jim was up and over like a flash.
Jim disappeared in the dark, making his way home to his classy house.
Escaping and surviving was his existence. Jim Phelps opened the garage to view his ever-faithful blue convertible
with white leather interior.’ He slid in behind the wheel.
As he revved up the powerful
engine, his silver hair gleamed in the sunlight. He chuckled in a wry way, Tomorrow let’s just see if the CIA has any job openings...
He drove off into the sunset, a
man on a mission…a mission only he and his team could appreciate.
Note: Mission Impossible was a risk for Desilu Productions. It paid off.
Some words are a stretch: Speedos? Fun to play with.
