Thursday

Thursday´s office was a low-rent hole in the ground. He was a hard working guy who didn´t care much for luxury. He was more interested in keeping a low profile and getting his work done. Thursday was a spy, a secret agent, a spook. The less people noticed him, the better he could do his job.

Imaginary spies, like those you see in the movies, put themselves up at fancy hotels, and are surrounded by ferris wheels and fast cars.

But Thursday wasn´t imaginary.

He believed in keeping his eyes on the ball. All that fancy stuff didn´t do much for him. Some people might say that Thursday took ‘low-profile´ a little too far. When he went looking for office space, he didn´t go to the low-rent district like some private detective from an old movie - no, he made his own low-rent district. He bought an old waterpark, got it fixed up, and in the process built himself a nice plastic bunker under the main pool. His bunker wasn´t decked out with funky couches, a shark tank or any of that cool stuff. It just had his equipment, a small mat on the floor for sleeping, a little fridge for ice cream and old pizza with anchovies, and that was about it.

The place wasn´t designed for guests. Which was why the pile on the floor that went by the name of Short Eddy was such a problem.

A few minutes earlier, Mean Eyes Paine and his gang of bullies had been trying to drown Short Eddy in the waterpark pool. Thursday had watched on his surveillance equipment, and he´d hoped that the bullies would let Short Eddy up for air. But they didn´t. So, using a robotic arm disguised as an automatic pool cleaner, Thursday had dragged Eddy into the bunker´s waterlock.

A moment after the waterlock had drained, Short Eddy opened the door and stumbled into Thursday´s office.

The kid was sputtering, but he was breathing. He coughed a few times and then stood up straight and looked around the room. Thursday saw Short Eddy´s brain trying to figure out what was going on.

Short Eddy stopped looking around when his eyes finally got around to Thursday. He looked at Thursday for about five seconds, his jaw slowly dropping lower and lower. Then, Short Eddy, the 4th grade nerd who always got pushed around at school, just passed out on the floor. He made a very unsatisfying thump as he landed.

It wasn´t unexpected.

Thursday wasn´t quite like most secret agents. He wasn´t tall, he wasn´t dashing and he didn´t have the fastest hands in - well, he didn´t have hands at all.

Nonetheless, he always looked great in a tux.

Thursday wasn´t just a spy.

He was a penguin spy.