The funeral had already started when Goth Bond arrived. He carefully manouvered the Aston Martin so that nobody would see Pussy - he didn't feel comfortable with people staring when he had Pussy in his car. "You wait here" said Bond, "I just need to go and check that the evil Fill Spector agent Prozac is actually dead". "Well I hope he's dead for his sake" said Pussy Galore "I wouldn't fancy being buried alive". "I have to check" explained Bond "Y has been going on for ages about getting rid of Prozac".
Bond got out of the car and wandered over to where the coffin was about to be covered in soil. He recognised some of the evil henchmen but something didn't seem right. He spotted Prozac's bereaved wife getting in the car and then he realised what had happened. Prozac had killed his own wife - Goth Bond had read about the dangers of Prozac but even he was surprised at this.
Bond raced back to the car and jumped in making Pussy squeak. "Careful Goth" she said "I nearly wet myself there - what is it?" she asked nervously. "We have to go after Prozac now - hold tight Pussy." They raced off after the funeral car which finally stopped at Chateau Antidepress. Goth carefully hid the Aston in some trees and took a rucksack out of the car. "Oh wow" said Pussy "A picnic, how thoughtful of you Goth". "I'm afraid not" said Bond "I have to deal with Prozac then you and I see Y". "See why what?" asked Pussy, "No" replied Bond, "We have to go and see my boss Y".
With that Goth disappeared into the trees whilst Pussy waited, her lips slightly trembling. Less than 5 minutes later there were a couple of loud bangs and then Goth started to descend from the sky. 'Oh my Goth' she thought 'he can fly as well. Goth Bond landed beside the car and took off the rucksack, which was actually a jetpack, jumped into the Aston and started speeding down the road. After a particularly sharp hairpin he unleashed a pool of oil from the back of the Aston Martin and watched with a satisfied smile as the pursuing bad guys shot off the road, hit a tree and exploded.
"Like I always say Pussy" Goth winked, "Slippery when wet" and they sped off to catch a plane to London.
Goth Bond strode into MI6 headquarters and came up silently behind his favourite secretary. "Need some help putting things in there Miss FunnyFanny?" Bond asked mischievously. "Oh Goth, I thought you'd never ask but why have you come?" replied FunnyFanny. "Summoned by Y " answered Bond "Although I really did need to see U too".
"Alright Bond" boomed a voice over the intercom "Stop teasing FunnyFanny and get yourself in here". In Y's office were a couple of people Goth Bond didn't look the like of at all. The sort of people he knew had to pay for sex because they were about as interesting as wet fish, or accountants.
"I'm sending you to a health farm Bond" announced Y. "Like fuck you are" replied Bond "I'm not poncing about in a dressing gown eating lentils and all that bollocks". "It's not a request Bond, it's an order - we've had two agents killed in two days trying to find out what's going on there" explained Y "Now it's your turn so get in there and sort it out. And don't forget to collect some new gadgets from U, I know U's been busy". "Alright" said Bond "But I am not eating fucking lentils". And with that, Goth Bond turned on his heel and left.
Some hours later, Goth Bond pulled up at the large country mansion that had been turned into a health farm. The tyres scrunched the gravel as he pulled into a parking space near the front entrance - Goth was never one to go in the back entrance. A bell-boy came out to help carry Bonds suitcases, but Bond only had an overnight bag. He had absolutely no intention of staying near health freaks for any longer than was absolutely necessary. He was shown to his room and he tipped the bell-boy. Opening the fridge he almost laughed at it's contents - fruit juice and mineral water. Smiling he opened his overnight bag and took out a bottle of Jack Daniels.
Just as he had sat down and poured himself a generous measure of JD into a crystal tumbler, the phone rang. "Mr Bond?" enquired the voice at the other end "Yes" replied Bond, "I'm the Swedish Masseuse that was ordered for you." said the decidely husky voice at the other end of the line. She gave Bond the details of where to come and he finished his JD, threw his jacket on the bed and said to himself "The things I do for my country" and headed off to get his massage.
To be continued