SMYTHE’S FALLOW FOLLY

ESPIONAGE IN ACTION

By izzy ess in such distress

Sincerely, yours, the letter ended and

The signature, illegibly, was Smythe’s.

The body of the letter threatened to

Reclaim the land behind the farm, from six

To twenty acres of some fertile land

That presently was growing weeds and golden

Rod that would produce a honey crop

Worth many bucks for Smythe, a man

Of many talents, who worked this farm

From 1928 to 1942

And made the family quite rich.

Returning from the war in Europe, Smythe

Assumed the Barnyard family would want

To hire him back.  Smythe’s army grants allowed

John Charles to make an offer for the fallow land

Plus adding that he’d share the gains.

‘Twas fair, he claimed.  He’d be an owner now

And still participate as friendly help.

He did recall, he’d been alone when all

His family had perished in a fire

Which also killed the livestock and the loving

Pets.  He mentioned that Ezekiel

Barnyard had kindly taken Smythe into

His family and he’d grown up big and strong

And quite prepared to go to war for England

And America and rise in rank

To captain for heroic acts to save

The lives of twelve brave officers and the

Entire eighteenth battalion in the North

Of Africa, a factor in the fall

Of Rommel and the evil Adolf Hitler

Schicklgruber, the ironically

Born half Jewish schizophrenic, psychopathic,

Self-destructive, homicidal,

Quite compulsive and obsessive

Egomaniac who had a secret child,

Who still survives in Hamilton, Ontario

In Canada as Hussein Adolf Israel,

And family, who regularly

Go to Church on Sundays, Synagogue

On Saturdays and Mosque on Fridays,

Catholic masses in the afternoons and Muslim

Prayers, five weekdays.  Captain Smythe had met

The Desert Fox by chance in Libya

Before the General returned to Hitler

And the suicide by cyanide

Supplied by Adolf, so unfairly, to

The brave Herr Rommel, for psychotic reasoning,

Der Fuhror, had conceived.   To Captain

Smythe, The Fox had whispered, “There’s a fetus

Inside Eva who had lain with Mufti

Achmed bin Sadaam, with Adolf’s surreptitious

Bold permission to assuage

The raging hormones felt by Eva which

Der Sterile Hitler could not, would not, satisfy.”

Our Smythe had kept the information

To himself.

On coming back to Canada,

Now private citizen, potential

Farmer, Smythe, sought out a spying agent

Of RCMP and made a written

Statement of what Fox had whispered to

Him.  Quite expressionless, RCMP

Lieutenant Stanley Ball, read all of it

And said, “It’s interesting, Smythe.  Please be

Advised that everything is being taped.

I must advise you that you never speak

Of this encounter and the letter to

A soul.  You must, in fact, swear for me on

A Bible of your choice, that you will not

Reveal my name or badge ID or any

Contents of this letter you have written.

I am burning it right now, as you

Can see.  The ashes will be blown away,

In all directions.  Would you like to join

Us as an undercover agent?  Are

There any things about you that we don’t

Already know?  If you accept assignment,

You will be ranked as corporal, initially.

A small stipend, paid monthly, will be paid

To you and you will have expenses’ vouchers,

Should you need them.  Your great army background

And your acts of heroism speak

So well for you.  You seem to be outstanding

As a candidate for undercover

Work.  You seem to have a well-established

Cover at the farm of Barnyard’s family.

We will investigate you thoroughly!”

“Then you should know,” said Smythe, “I fucked

The youngest Barnyard daughter, Clementine,

Behind the barn and everywhere, when we

Were youngsters.  I was sixteen while Clem had

Her fourteenth birthday.  It was puppy love

But felt like more.  We cried together when

I left for England and the War.  Since I’ve

Returned, she hasn’t smiled at me or even

Shook my hand.  She’s married to an older

Man who works the farm.  They have four children

And they seem to be quite happy.”  Stan,

The Man, just smiled.  “We’re very thorough, Smythe.

Clem’s first child is a boy, ‘Pierre,’ who’s yours!

We’ve checked his DNA against your DNA

And Clem’s.  There is a 99.9%

Of probability,

He’s yours.  Clem knew this when you left and never

Told the truth.  Clem’s father doesn’t know

And no one of the Barnyards are aware

Of it.  Clem’s mother, Roselyn, whom you

Fucked, too, has guessed the truth, but isn’t talking.

Clem and Rosie, both, have loved you from

Day one.  I told you we were thorough!”  Smythe

Was thoughtful for a little while and then

Remarked, “I never would have thought…”  Smythe said

No more.  He waved, “Good-bye,” and left before

He took the Mountie’s offer to become

An undercover agent.  Smythe had lots

To think about while driving home.  He headed

For the barn out back in which he’d built

A bedroom and a bathroom, plus a kitchenette

And living room.  The Barnyards had

Accepted his great offer as a worker

On their farm and owner of the fallow

Portion of the farm.  He now knew what

He had to do for sexy Rosie and

Her daughter Clem.  Before the war, he’d had

Some fun with Rose and Clem, the beauties of

The Barnyard farm.  He felt a surge of love

And gratefulness and thrilled that now he had

A handsome son.  He’d always dreamt of having

Family, to love and hold and build

A dream.  A lot of everything just fell

Into his lap.  “Son of a bitch!” our Smythe

Declared to no one in particular.

“My dream is coming true!  Now, all I have

To do is wrest Clem, Rosie and my son,

Pierre, from all the others who don’t know

The truth about us all.  It should be easy,

Peasie, Japaneasy!

Actually,

It wasn’t easy, Peasie, Japaneasy.

Refusing to discuss Smythe’s dream with him,

Clem, Rosie and Pierre expressed disgust.

On Friday night, Clem snuck into his bed

And fucked all night and snuck away at dawn.

The next night, it was Roselyn who served

Her love to Smythe and snuck away at dawn.

‘Twas Donna Barnyard, Clem’s old sister, who

Surprised our Smythe on Sunday night and welcomed

Him as family and friend to Barnyard’s

Family.  She stayed for seven days

And nights, and cooked and cleaned and serviced Smythe,

Then snuck away before our Clem became

Aware that her sis, Donna, was attending

To the needs of Smythe.  Clem, Rosie, Donna

All appeared on Wednesday next and stayed

The night.  Smythe just enjoyed the beautiful

Three women who were just enjoying him.

Two years went by.  Our Rosie, Clem and Donna,

Had born our Smythe three healthy baby girls,

Cher, Sharon Ginny and Scheherazade.

Clem’s husband and her father never questioned

What had happened and enjoyed the happy

Little girls.  They brightened up the farm,

Which thrived.  The adults helped with cultivating,

Harvesting and cooking, cleaning and

The sale of fruits and vegetables in local

Markets.  Barnyard’s Farms and Orchards were

Becoming famous locally and far

And wide. 

Smythe helped design a market restaurant which featured fresh hot pies and gourmet teas and coffees and the breakfasts made with Barnyard’s fruits and veggies.  A line of jams and jellies started selling well and were distributed to markets locally and nationwide.  About an hundred eager people came for breakfast at the start and came again, each weekday and twice as many came on weekends.  The coffers of the Barnyards with their Smythe, just filled to overflowing.  A very large brick house with twenty bed-rooms and indoor swimming pool was commissioned and completed in a year.  Contentment of its occupants was obvious.  The easy smiles and welcome arms made everyone who visited content, as well.  The three little girls were getting bigger, more charming and more attractive every day.

A Captain Ball came by one day and ordered breakfast.  He spotted all the happy people whom he’d watched on tape for all this time and was aware of how successful everybody was and who was diddling whom.  Smythe recognized him but did not acknowledge that he knew him.  Sidling by Ball’s table, Smythe passed a note to him which said, “Back of BLUE barn at ten-ten.”  Ball ate the note and leisurely completely finished his big slice of apple pie and cup of black, strong Kenyan coffee.  At ten past ten, Ball met with Smythe.  “Your family seems happy.  You’re a master of domain!  Are you prepared to do a job for us?”  Smythe guessed that Ball knew all that had transpired at Barnyard’s.  “What’s the job?”  “We’ve pinned down the Attila son.  He lives on Barton Street in Hamilton.  Here’s the exact location.”  Smythe read his note and ate it.  “We need you to get inside the house and learn what family activities there are, the sooner, the better.”  “Is next week soon enough?”  “It’s perfect, sir.  Your code name will be ‘Hero.’  Contact me by dialling ‘1-HERO-I-AM-NOT’ on any public phone, wait for the beep and give your reports.  Call every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at exactly one, am or pm.  If you encounter any danger to yourself, run and disappear, calling me with your reports, every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday at one.  If you miss any times, we’ll come and rescue you.  Also, we’ll be watching.  Should we need to intervene, it will be swift and deadly.  Should you need us to rescue you, call anytime and dial 1-911-911-911-9, and hang up.  I’ll know where you are and I’ll have you picked up and securely protected.”  “Understood.”  Ball turned and left.  Smythe set his face to reflect happiness and rejoined his belove-ed Barnyard family.

To Rosie, Clem, Pierre and all the others, Smythe proclaimed, “I need a week or so to check on London, Hamilton, Toronto and some other places, maybe Buffalo and Cleveland to check out the possibilities of franchising our restaurant. I think it’s time to make some dough for all of us for future incomes that could be our nesteggs, for the kid’s, for universities, and us for our retirements.”  He packed a suitcase full of suits and shirts and socks and ties and patent leather shoes.  He made some love with all his lovers, donna, too, who cried and said, “I love you, brother, mine, so come back soon, as safe and sound as you are now.  And, my, you are so vigourous, today!  Again, my love?  Oh, please, give me your all, until we lay, again.”  They rocked, and rolled, ‘til dawn.

Smythe had planned to meet the son of Eva Braun, as if by accident.  He went to pray at Saint Olaf’s Cathedral, right on Barton Street, where sonny boy was apt to go on Thursdays.  And, sure enough, Hussein Adolf Israel, and family, who regularly went to Church on Sundays, Synagogue, on Saturdays and Mosque, on Fridays, Catholic masses, in the afternoons and Muslim Prayers, five weekdays.  H. A. I. was interacting with the priest, who seemed to know him well.  Mrs. Israel was beautiful.  She sat quietly and followed all Hussein was doing.  The four bright children were obedient and not at all in fidget mode.  He learned later, that their names were Olga, Johann, Dolly and Ezekiel, ages three through ten.  He learned that Jasmine Israel, the wife, was of Turkish origin, an erotic dancer ere she married and a triple agent for the USA, China and The Kurds of Turkey.  Smythe sat down behind then in the second pew.  All of the Israels, in turn, looked around at him and looked him up and down.  Mrs. Israel looked at him with gorgeous eyes, black brown in colour and surrounded by extremely long eye-lashes.  Her lips were full and sexy and her mouth was slightly open.  Even behind her, Smythe could see she still had an exotic body.  She smiled and turned away to look at her husband and her family, as if to say, “I’m sorry, I can’t, even though you’re handsome and so tempting.”  Smythe was sure of her strong message but amused at her attempt at holiness.  Beyond the service, Smythe was in the crowd of worshippers who waited patiently to leave.  He felt a pair of breasts.  He guessed it was the Kurd of Istanbul and braced himself to let her wiggle softly on his shoulder blades.  He sensed a fluttering of lashes causing breezes on his neck.  It turned him on, deliciously and secretly.  Finally, she pressed her pubis to his derriere and guided him to Father Spivey, who did bless him.  He turned to look at Jasmine who had smiled, and turned to tend her family.  Outside the church, Smythe stood and looked around, as if he was disoriented.  The master of his house, Hussein, approached him and inquired about his look of being lost.  Smythe said,” I’m from Kamloops in BC, and I need to find a place to stay for several days to do some scouting for my busy boss, who wants to find a place to start a branch for an import-export office.  We deal in oriental goods and services.  Lately business has been great for him since opening a line of bamboo furniture directly from a factory in Fu Manchu, Manchuria, beyond the Wall.  Can you recommend a small inn or bed and breakfast convenient to this area?”  It worked.  Mr. and Mrs. Israel both said, “You seem to be a moral man.  Why don’t you come to stay with us just up the street?  We have an old capacious house with several rooms for sleeping and relaxing you could use.  If you don’t mind an active family, you could join us for some meals and evenings for the radio, or television or computers, if you wish.  We’d just expect some money for the extra food and some utilities, assurably much cheaper than a cheap motel.  Do you have a car?”  “No,” said Smythe.  “My expense account allows for taxis, which I used to get from the airport on the mountain to this area.”  Jasmine added, “You will need receipts to show your boss, I’m sure.  On our computer we can generate official looking receipts in any amount you wish!”  Smythe replied, “It’s a little irregular, but frankly, I would prefer it to being alone in a hotel room.  I miss my family in Kamloops, already, and the six of you would make me feel at home.  Like you, I have four children close in age to yours.  My wife died, unfortunately, of a brain tumour, last year.  My boss’s wife has taken over and we live with them.  Fortunately, except for some depressions due to mourning, we’re all fit and healthy.  I promised I’d call them everyday at one to keep in touch.  They said if I didn’t call, they’d call 911!  So, staying with you is rather perfect.  Thank you for your kindnesses.  I think it should only take a day or two, perhaps a week.  The receipts you mentioned for my boss sound perfect!”  Smythe smiled at them, taking care not to focus on the exotic Turkish dancer.  Smythe noticed that she was taking care not to keep looking at him.  She also went out of her way to stand behind her husband, as if he was the ruler of his domain, and she was just subservient.  The charade went well and they headed down Barton Street, the happy, skipping kids leading the way.

The old brick house at 3939 Barton Street, East, was indeed capacious.  The old wood-work had been restored and preserved, including the mahogany staircases, front and back.  There was even a secret spiral staircase from a kitchen pantry to an erstwhile willing maid’s room’s trap door on the second floor.  This was one of the rooms given to Smythe.  An adjoining room with a modern kitchen was also given.  The willing maid’s bed was a four poster and very comfortable.  The functioning old windows of both rooms looked out onto the garden in the small fenced-in back yard, on the back of which was the old coach house, now a garage and storage room.  An old stable for the coach and a horse, were similarly converted to a storage place for gardening tools.  Smythe surveyed his new lodgings and smiled.  “It’s perfect!” he thought.  “I couldn’t have conceived of anything better.”  The kitchen table was perfect for his computer and his notebooks.  There were modern electrical outlets with circuit breaking safety plugs.  He was certain there were monitoring devices everywhere but they were very cleverly obscure.

Smythe freshened up in the upstairs bathroom, taking a long hot shower.  He had accepted an invitation for supper with the family.  He donned a fresh black suit, fresh white shirt and a black striped tie.  He shined his black leather shoes and combed his hair neatly.  He found the large dining room with an oval dinner table set for seven.  The Austrian crystal chandelier magnificent.  The white lace table cloth was hand-made.  Everyone was in formal attire.  The men and boys were wearing white tuxedoes.  The women and girls were wearing strapless gowns.  The scene was movie-like.  The male serving staff was in tuxedoes and the women wore white blouses and caps and the black jumpers of a bygone era.  Smythe thought it was surreal.  The six course meal was exquisite: filet mignon, pate de fois gras, Caesar salads, calamari, minestrone soup and French vanilla chocolate syrup sundaes.

The conversation at the table was non-threatening.  Smythe gave an account of himself as a family man, working hard to make a business work successfully for his boss.  All the information would be verifiable by telephone as prearranged by Ball.  Hussein and Jasmine related funny stories of the children growing up and Smythe told of his children, too.  He received sympathetic comments on his state of widower, a single dad.  Snapshot pictures were produced to compliments and praises.  The adults enjoyed some Napoleon Brandy and cigars while the children retired to their game room for television and computer games.  Smythe confessed he was fatigued and begged to be excused for an early night.  There was no problem with this.  He also explained that he would be calling Kamloops to check in with his children at exactly 1:00 am.  He said he preferred to use a public phone, despite the generous offers of his hosts to use the house phone.

Smythe expected someone to ascend the spiral stairs to get to him.  He was prepared for Jasmine, who’d eyed him all through dinnertime.  He lay atop the four poster bed in underwear, Fruit-of-the-Loom shorts and working, grey, Fruit-of-the-Loom T-shirt.  He could her someone ascending.  He watched as the trap door opened.  It was the youngest daughter, Dolly Kurdish Israel, aged four.  Her golden hair was in two pig-tails and she wore a full-length, flannel, pink and purple polka-dotted, sleeping dress.  Her slippers were of purple terrycloth, over-sized with curled up pointy toes.  Her dark brown eyes were gazing straight ahead at him, unblinking.  She let the trap-door softly close and somnambulated slowly to his bed.  Letting drop her slippers, she crrawled up and close to Smythe and found his armpit for her lovely head, lay her arm across his chest and her leg across his pelvis.  Then, she closed her eyes and wiggled closer to him.  Her regular breathing produced a purring sound as she fell into a deep sleep.  Smythe hadn’t moved.  He set his watch to ring at 12:30 and fell asleep.

Awakening, Smythe sat up and discovered Jasmine, sleeping in the nude, beside him.  Dolly was not there.  Reluctantly, he left the sleeping beauty and got dressed.  He exited down the spiral staircase and emerged from the kitchen pantry.  In the dark, he found the front door and went out to Barton Street, where he spotted a lit up telephone booth at the corner of Wellington and Barton.  Entering the booth, he closed the door and dialed the number he had memorized.  A message told him to proceed, so he proceeded to submit the first report on his encounter with the Israels.  He concluded with the tale of somnambulistic Dolly and the nude Jasmine in his bed.

Signing off and hanging up, Smythe walked back to the house and entered.  In the dark, he made his way up to his room, not knowing what he’d find.  It was the older daughter, Olga Marie Theresa Israel, aged thirteen, and quite mature, sleeping in his bed, quite nude.  She was lying on her back, her legs spread and her knees up, masturbating in her sleep.  She made small puddles on the sheets as she squirted her hot juices out.  Smythe undressed completely and put his head between her legs In order to have a drink of the hot juices as they squirted out.  He couldn’t help himself.  He gently pushed away her fingers and licked Olga’s small, pink, hard clitoris, which immediately increased the amount and frequency of the squirting hot juices.  Olga moaned and grunted and awoke.  She reached for and stoked his penis.  Then they did a “69” and leisurely, it seemed, licked and sucked each other’s genitalia.  Each of them had several delicious orgasms.  They disengaged their mouths and moved to lay side by side, and face to face, and hug and kiss.

Jasmine and Dolly re-appeared as if by magic and they joined Smythe and Olga on the bed sheets, after dropping all their bed clothes on the floor.  Dolly’s tiny body was in sharp contrast to Jasmine’s and Olga’s mature bodies.  Jasmine became the directrix.  She lay between Olga and him and presented her lovely, firm derriere to a greatly aroused Smythe, who slipped his throbbing member into a pre-lubricated, very hot receptacle.  Olga made a “69” with her mother; both commenced to lick each other’s clits with vigour and with great results.  Dolly got behind Smythe and cupped his balls; then, she put her tiny legs and arms around his muscular thigh.  She rubbed her crotch against his thigh with obvious pleasure on her pretty face.  Her pig-tails bobbed up and down as she rode Smythe’s thigh, like one would gallop on a horse.  After several organisms experienced by all of them, they let each other loose and started laughing.  “I want to get Smythe’s rod inside me, mom.  Isn’t it about time I lost my virginity?”  Jasmine calmed her down and said, “Your virginity can wait.  You’re only four!  However, if you’d like, I’m sure our willing man would like to lick your clit, if you would take his penis head inside your mouth and give it some tongue.”  Jasmine demonstrated how to do this and gave it up for Dolly who eagerly took over.  She did a great job and Smythe ejaculated in her mouth.  Dolly smacked her lips and swallowed everything.  “Mm,” she said.  “That was delicious!  OK, mom. I’ll wait on losing my virginity, but the next guy you get, I get, too, OK?”  Jasmine said, “Maybe, darling.  I suggest, you find yourself a younger, smaller boy, to start with, maybe one of your brothers.  I think Johann would be willing, if you ask him, nicely.  Why don’t you crawl into his bed right now and ask him?”  “OK!” answered Dolly, eagerly.  She slipped into her purple and pink nightgown and purple slippers and disappeared down the spiral staircase, humming to herself.  Jasmine winked at Olga and said, “How ‘bout you go and comfort your father and Zeke, while I have some private time with this nice man, our welcomed guest, with his nice muscles.”  “OK, mom.”  Olga donned her transparent black nightie and, barefoot, disappeared through the trap-door, to comfort her father and her brother, Ezekiel.

Jasmine, still naked and exotic, reached under the bed and retrieved a Luger.  She pressed the nozzle of the weapon into Smythe’s still swollen scrotum and asked, “OK, whatever-your-name is, who are you and what are you doing, and doing so well, wooing me and my family?”  She covered her breasts with her left arm and hand.  Her look was very serious.  Smythe grabbed the Luger and pointed it at her forehead.  Jasmine smile, seductively, and said, “The Luger isn’t loaded.”  Smythe threw the gun on the floor.  It discharged and made a neat little hole in the wall.  “Sorry,” said Jasmine.  “I lied.  The Luger was fully loaded.”  Smythe beat her to the gun and unloaded it.  He threw the bullets down the spiral staircase.  “May we talk now?” asked Jasmine, fluttering her long false eyelashes and uncovering her fantastic, real breasts and big brown nipples.  Or, would you rather fuck again?”

Smythe answered by pushing Jasmine onto her back and giving her all he had left, which was still substantial.  They moaned and groaned together and experienced a simultaneous climax for the books.  The cameras were recording how they lingered in each other’s arms and fucked again.  Downstairs, Olga, Zeke, Dolly, Johann and Hussein mockingly applauded while watching the exciting performance of Jasmine and her newest conquest, Smythe.  They listened carefully as Smythe explained his mission and as Jasmine made some sense of the Hamiltonian charade to Smythe.  Both were clear that now their covers were blown, unless each swore to each other to keep it all a secret for themselves.  They swore it eagerly and unloaded the following stories.

Dear reader, Smythe’s story you already know.  Jasmine’s began at the end of WWII, just before Eva and Adolf Hitler Schicklgruber offed themselves and were incinerated in the famous Berlin underground bunker.  Krankenschwester Madeleine Verboten, an experienced mid-wife, sworn to secrecy, delivered a healthy boy to the couple.  Verboten passed the crying baby to Professor Hans Gemutlichkeit, who hurried to the only escape route, a tunnel under Berlin leading to suburban Dresden.  Hans emerged and ran to Dresdenspital, where Maria Bustenhalter, an experienced wet-nurse, took the newborn to her swollen breasts.  Hussein drank deeply and flourished in the care of Bustenhalter who travelled by a special Mercedes outfitted for new infants and their chesty mothers.  The Mercedes, a 300 SEL, was sponsored by the Society for the Preservation of the Teutonic Kings, the SPTK, financed by German and Austrian wealthy business men, including Alfred Krupp.  The driver took Hussein Schicklgruber and Maria Bustenhalter on all the side roads to Bremen and Bremen Haven.  The Mercedes was driven directly into the hull of a transatlantic ship, Mein Kampf.  The ship headed for the North Atlantic, and entered Canada via the St. Lawrence River.  By plan of the SPTK, Hussein and Maria were to live in a house already purchase by the SPTK on Barton, just east of Wellington.  This house, in fact.”

“Maria needed help.  At the time, I was a youngster and making a living in Istanbul as a child prostitute.  I was getting lessons for exotic dancing and high class whoring from a woman who was an undercover agent of the Kurdish Liberation Front.  She saw my potential and recruited me for the KLF, while teaching me the moves for exotic dancing and high class whoring.  A wealthy German member of the SPTK was impressed with my talents and was aware of my espionage expertise.  When I was 16, he recruited me for his cause and assigned me to be the live-in wife of a special German, Hussein Schicklgruber, the son of Hitler and Eva.  He explained that Hussein would be the new Fuhror when Deutschland recovered and resumed its goal for world domination.  He would be appointed as the Emperor to a new Teutonic Empire.  And, I would be the Empress.”

“I accepted his offer, remained a spy for the Kurds and was recruited by the CIA and KGB.  I became pregnant almost immediately by Hussein.  I was also impregnated by an agent of the CIA, an agent of the KGB and the milkman.  Despite everything, Hussein and I remain friends and lovers, husband and wife, and parents to these four darling children, whom you’ve net.  You and I had unprotected sex.  I believe I will be pregnant once more, by an agent of the RCMP, just to make things even out.”

Everyone had a good laugh, those upstairs and those downstairs and the boys and girls at their monitoring consoles, in the RCMP.

“Incidentally,” added Jasmine.  “Maria stayed with us as a confidential friend and housekeeper and wet-nurse, when necessary.  She had an interesting interlude with a seldom-visiting boyfriend, named Ball.  He said he was a travelling salesman from Montreal, a Fuller Brush man.  I think he was a spy from Canada.  Do you know him?”

“Yes, I know him and he knows me very well.  He recruited me for this assignment, which I must say, has been very exciting, so far.  Can it get more exciting?”

“Yes, it can.  Are you a bisexual, perchance?”

“No, but why?”

“Hussein and the boys are bisexual.  I and my girls are strictly heterosexual, so far.”

“I’m strictly hetero, my dear Jasmine.  And you are the sexiest and most beautiful woman I have ever laid myself and my eyes on!”

“Why, thank you kind sir.  You’re not so bad yourself!”

With that last exchange of romantic pleasantries, the sexiest couple put on another exciting show for the folks downstairs and the folks at RCMP headquarters.  They kept on with the show until everyone downstairs and all the RCMP men and women, at their monitors, became naked, entwined and enjoined.  On the monitors of the KGB, the CIA, the SPTK and the KLF, the shows put on by Jasmine and Smythe, were displayed in close-ups and in panoramic views, in blazing colour and in sharply focussed black and white.  Orgies occurred at all locations. Stills and cels eventually brought big bucks to the vendors.

There were tears in the eyes of Jasmine and Smythe in the morning when Smythe expressed his formal thanks to Hussein and his family.  A group hug with some undercover groping ensued.  Smythe, formally dressed, exited by the front door and headed for a phone booth to make his report to a recording device.  He headed home to his Barnyard family and was welcomed with hugs and kisses and some undercover groping.  He retired to his old bed and slept for twelve hours.  He awoke with Clem, Rosie and Donna, naked in his bed, ready for sex.  Smythe tried valiantly to co-operated but was unable to do his usual sexual gymnastics.  The women said they understood that he must be tired from his trip and let him return to sleep.  He couldn’t get Jasmine out of his mind.  Over the next couple of days, he feigned fatigue and exhaustion.  “I think I’m coming down with something, maybe the flu.”  The Barnyards gave him space and time, chicken soup and tea, lemon and honey and gallons of clean, fresh water pumped from the Barnyard pure water springs.  It took more than two weeks for Smythe to have a fading of his images and memories of Jasmine.  His women were happy to have the old Smythe back, ready, willing and able to perform.  He became better able to brush off casual questions from Donna, Clementine and Roselyn about what was on his mind and what were the details of his trip.

Jasmine was determined to have Smythe as her own.  Carefully, so as not to reveal her true motivation, she contacted the KLF and the SPTK.  She inquired if there were a suitable candidate to take over the role of wife to Hussein.  The reply from the SPTK indicated there were two candidates, a young man and a young woman, of Austrian and Chinese descent, respectively, that were already trained and quite willing to take on such a role.  The reply from the KLF was that there were two identical, female twins, from Hungary, who would together make a nice grouping with Hussein and his family.  After some deliberation and review, Jasmine wondered if all of them could be had.  This was agreed to by all the concerned folks at the CIA, the KGB, the KLF and the SPTK who were assigned to the Hussein Operation, or “The Son of AHS Question.”

After the quartette of substitute Jasmines arrived, Jasmine oriented all of them, ensuring Hussein and her kids were OK with her proposed vacation, of unknown duration and location.  She left the house on Barton Street with tears and hugs, spent the night in bed with all nine of the inhabitants.  She checked into the Connaught Hotel as Mrs. Jacqueline Smythe with papers to prove she lived in Vancouver, BC, on Thorold Street.  In her espionage kit, she found sufficient make-up to disguise her face and body to look like she was 60, silver-haired, overweight and bothered by arthritic joints.  She used a hollow cane to ambulate, inside of which was a curare-tipped plastic blow-gun dart, which wouldn’t have shown up on any X-rays.  She took an airport cab and flew to Vancouver, staying in a small bed and breakfast on Thorold Street for a boring week, establishing her BC address.

Then, Jasmine flew as Mrs. Smythe to Toronto, where she took an airline limousine to Barnyard’s Country Restaurant.  She spotted Smythe, her “son,” and screamed, “Oh son of mine, where have you been?”  Smythe looked up and saw through Jasmine’s disguise, but went along with her approach.  “Mother?” he asked.  “I thought you and dad and everybody died.  You’re still alive?”  “Yes, my son, your mother’s alive and kicking, though with arthritis and constipation that the doctors can’t seem to help.”  “I’m amazed!” he declared.  “You’re amazing!” thought Jasmine and Smythe, simultaneously.  “Sit down, mother,” Smythe said and offered her a chair at an empty table.  “Is there somewhere more private we can talk?”  “Of course,” he replied.  “We have a lot to talk about.  If you’re hungry, why don’t you order something… on the house, mom.  If you need to freshen up or take a rest or nap, my apartment office is in the blue barn, a short walk from here.  The door is open.”  That’s a kind offer, sonny.  I’ll be in the blue barn.  When you take a break, why don’t you join me and we can talk.  Could someone help me with my heavy bag?”  Smythe motioned a young student waiter to Jasmine’s side.  He took her bag and her arm and helped her get to the blue barn.  Smythe went back to waiting tables.  He asked Donna to cover him and went to the blue barn, casually, as if he were taking a scheduled break.

Smythe locked the door behind him as he entered his office and apartment.  He found Jasmine asleep on top of the sheets on his bed.  He guessed that she was pregnant.  He sat down in his bedside easy chair and accurately guessed the reason for the disguise and the visit.  Jasmine stirred and awoke.  She waved to him and beckoned him to join her in bed.  He did.

Clem disturbed the during foreplay.  She guessed that Jasmine was the distracting woman for Smythe.  In a kind of, “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” approach, she removed her clothes and joined Smythe and Jasmine for a pleasant, leisurely threesome.  Pierre, Rosie and Donna entered and followed suite, making it a sixsome.  Everyone was participating with vigour an enthusiasm when three masked men broke down the Ba  Three stealth bombers swooped in and destroyed the entire Barnyard farm, restaurant, store, gardens, crops, houses, barns, offices, records, treasures, livestock and pets.  A large dune of hot ash was all that remained.

The headlines read, “BARNYARD PROPERTIES REDUCED TO HOT ASH!”  “ALL BARNYARD PERSONNEL MISSING AND PRESUMED DEAD.”  The story line included that one member of the family was vacationing, alone, in Berlin.  He is in shock, having lost his entire family.  A member of the Canadian Consulate stated that James Charles Barnyard, a second cousin of Donna and Clementine Barnyard, Jimmy was hospitalized in the Jungian Institute, Universitat Bern, for acute, depression, with hallucinations and hysteria.  The spokesman for Interpol and spokesmen for the CIA, KGB and the RCMP stated that nothing was known for sure and that an investigation was underway.    No speculations were made.  No terrorist organization had come forward and claimed responsibility.  All flight plans had been perused and no flyovers were reported, by anyone.  A woman of Turkish descent was reported missing; any connection to the Barnyards was uncertain.  Canada’s Smythe, a decorated war hero, and his entire family, are missing and presumed dead.  A special memorial is being planned for Smythe.

By agreement, the SPTK and KLF remained silent.  “OPERATION BARNYARD,” was the collaboration of the crack assassination teams of nine governments and wannabe governments.  Ball, the supreme co-ordinator, stated, “We must end the breaks in security caused by the romance of one triple agent, Jasmine of Turkey, and a double agent, Smythe of Canada.  They have breached the Espionage Code of Ethics!  They must be terminated to restore our Honour.  The collateral damage can’t be helped.  Recruiting James Barnyard was necessary, though unfortunate.  I’ve already set in motion, my plan for his fatal ‘accident’”

THE END

© izzy sommers, md

Welland, Canada

June 8, 2013