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The Tragic End of Secret Agent Goldie

Angela Richart

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It always starts on a lovely morning.  The day seemed like any other; I was cheerfully floating around my sparkly bowl. It was a new mission that I was especially excited for. I had a chance to observe a girl who, to my understanding, was a very promising writer. I carefully watched the large human I was assigned to follow.

She was sitting calmly in her writing class nestled in the hard plastic chair as if it were actually comfortable. You could tell from her shining smile, she loved what she was doing. Her hair was long and it poofed around her face. It looked suffocating until she flipped it behind her back.  Her face wasn’t too long and it wasn’t too round, it was well…oval-ish, like the way a face should look.  As I moved from side to side I noted  that her eyes appeared different colors. With a slight change in the lighting, her eyes went from a bitter grey to a stormy blue.

I let out a few air bubbles and watched them float to the surface, before returning my gaze to the girl. The information from my superiors told me that her name was Angela Richart, alias unknown. She was under observation because of a piece she had written accusing several Russian politicians of a very nasty murder. Despite being a nosy American teenager, she got it right on the money. And that is where I come in.

I was sent by the KGB. Dozens of us inflitrated the country a few months ago. You see, I am a member of a very radcial group of ex-Soviets called The Comrades, and Americans like Angela are only in our way. As you may have noticed by now, yes, I am a goldfish Class 3 Secret Agent X29B, aka “Goldie”. My three-second memory has been enhaned due to some extensive genetic engineering. I can hold more information in my little brain than your home computer, I can swim faster than Michael Phelps, and I can survive outside the water for three days, plus I know a good share of martial arts. Angela doesnt stand a chance against me.

Now, I concentrate on the job at hand, I don’t want to move too quickly and unveil myself to my unsuspecting prey. She’s a happy person with a light-hearted, contagious laugh. While writing, she constantly smiles as if she is uncapable of  frowning.  When she gets a good idea, one corner of her mouth turns up in a silly looking half grin. Little does she know, she is getting spied on by a secret agent, let alone a goldfish. Ha. She is so oblivious, so wrapped up in her writing, she will never know what hit her.

Now she is standing up from her desk, perhaps to get a tissue or go to the bathroom. I anxiously swim in a circle just waiting for my opportunity to pounce. She walks toward my bowl, I glance around for a Kleenex box or pencil sharpener that may be her destination.  I bubble at her. What is she doing? She’s- she’s reaching into my bowl. What the hell? I began to yell, “Ahh, No, put me down you idiot!” Obviously she can’t understand my language, all she sees is my mouth rapidly opening and closing. My karate instict kicks in and a thrash my tail against the steel grip of her hand. She begins to carry me from the room with that stupid half-grin on her face.

I glanced back at the teacher who just politely looks up at her, winks and continues grading her papers. I am in panic mode. My installed Go-Go-Gadgets are all malfunctioning, and all I can do is flop around in her hands. The Comrades will fail along with this mission I know it.  Angela grins once and whispers, “So long, Agent Goldie,” before dropping me to my death. *Flush*

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About the Writer
Angela Richart, Editor-in-Chief

Staff Job Title: Editor-in-Chief----

Major: Mass Communications

Hometown: Oakdale, NE

About: I graduated from Elgin Public High School and this...

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The Tragic End of Secret Agent Goldie