My name is Agent Nine. No, seriously, that's my name. It was this whole thing with my parents wanting to free me from the shackles of soceitiy by giving me a fruity name. Instead they just got me punched in the gut from first grade all the way up through...uh, well...now. Seriously. Right as this story begins I'm being punched in the gut by the neferious Dr. Z.

You see I decided that if I didn't want to look like an idiot for the rest of my life I'd have to actually become a secret agent. I failed all the agent tests, but it was the Bush administration and nobody cared how competent I was just so long as I was willing to battle the forces of evil in distant lands.

And boy did I lie and SAY I was willing to battle the forces of evil in distant lands. Turns out this was a mistake. You see, distant lands have this horrible tendency to be...well...distant. And I hate traveling. Also I hate being punched in the gut...we've already seen how well that turned out for me.

So not only am I now a completely incompetent secret agent who has to travel far from home, but I didn't even achieve my number one goal of not being punched.

"Wha!Ha!Ha!" Dr. Z's henchmen dragged my body and chained me up to the wall. "Now, at long last I'll be able to achieve my ultimate evil and neferious scheemes!"

"Ugh...You'll never get away with this Dr. Z." I know this sounds really brave, but I really meant that he would never get away with punching me without consequence as I was about to vomit all over his beautifully polished floor.

"Oh...but I will Agent. I will. And when I'm done everyone in the world will cower before my army of armoured hamsters! Wha!ha!ha--ew--HENCHMEN. Clean that up! NOW!"

Next Week: Will Agent Nine's stomach feel any better? Can his vomit be cleaned up in time!!! And most important of all...ARMORED HAMSTERS OF DOOM TM.