The complete biography of my life, and my secret life. Thanks Medini!!
Selfless, good, amiable, carefree, caring, and wonderful are some very nice adjectives, none of which describe kevin rossignol. Though at times this crafty, manipulative, young teenage boy gains people's confidences by creating an elaborate façade, those who know him realize that behind the innocent, boyish face is the cruel, sly mind of a Man In Pants.
Who are the Men In Pants, you may ask. Well I will tell you. They are a secret organization of men with no names, forgettable faces, and pressed pants. These pants, a key aspect of their false outward character, serve two purposes: first, to make them look like ordinary boys, with nothing to hide, open and blameless as a baby, and second, to hold many cool, newly-invented gadgets of which no one besides the government has even conceived. That's right, they are the backbone behind the greatest, most advanced government of all times: The Indian Government.
The Indian Government Officials are not known for their seductive accents or their work integrity, as they have possibly the accent most easily laughed at by the rest of the world and would take a bribe for any possible reason whatsoever, but this loud-mouthed, brown-skinned, math-loving, un-grammared bunch is really the world's most advanced undercover organization. Partly because they are math-loving and learn how to do advanced programming at young ages by practicing on graphing calculators. Partly because they have no social lives, and therefore spend all of their time developing their advanced spy programs. Partly because no one knows they are Indian. Why? Because the Indian Men In Pants are so secretive and so ingenious that they decided to hire a completely non-Indian force, just to throw everyone off of their trail.
So not only are they not anything like the rest of the Indian Government, but the Men In Pants are the exact opposite of how we view that "third-world," ineffective ruling hierarchy. They are quiet, fitting in unnoticeably into any society, sly men who can butter you up one minute and cut you up like butter in the next. They are white, the key reason why they are commonly mistaken for undercover members of a white government. But oh, no, how wrong those ignorant people are, for behind the white faces are brilliant Indian minds, the best in the
[07:53:12:September:2005 ] Mike: world, ones which the smartest minds of U.S. cannot even begin to compare with. They are non-math-loving (shocking, isn't it?); instead they love secrecy, silence, concealment, being utterly anonymous, utterly unknown, utterly alone. They are, yes, you guessed it, the Men In Pants.
This brings us back to poor Kevin, one of these unknown, unloved people, alone except for his beloved pants and his even more beloved eggnog. That's right, eggnog. Unlike the rest of that great country that I call the Motherland, Kevin, upon entering the Force, had decided to give up hard drinks on the rocks and instead sticks with a traditional American Christmas drink: eggnog. Another crucial part of Kevin's disguise, this eggnog is no ordinary drink. It serves as Kevin's mask, a security blanket of sorts, when he is in America. Though eggnog makes Kevin stick out in his own pledged Motherland, it makes him all the more stealthy while in the country he has been assigned to spy on, the U.S. The combination of his white skin, hard-learned American accent, and his habit of drinking eggnog, help Kevin to blend in with the Americans, making him able to find information about people without getting laughed at because of his accent. Unfortunately, this eggnog addiction, while the reason for his success, also led to Kevin's demise. One Christmas, as is the American Way, Kevin got wasted on about 30 cups of eggnog (hey, I told you he was addicted). Against his usual good judgment, Kevin decided to take a drive out around the city, where he did not realize he would soon meet his maker in an unfortunate, brutal, gory, and bloody murder. Kevin wasn't supposed to be murdered, but he was crossing the street after parking his car, wanting some more eggnog at a local bar, when he unknowingly crossed the path of an anxious hit man scoping out his prey. Upon seeing Kevin move, the hit man got excited and fired off his gun without thinking. Sadly, Kevin died later that day in St. Vincent's Hospital in Worcester (where I was born, incidentally), and no one ever heard of him again. Not that anyone had ever heard of him before, since he was a….
MAN IN BLACK
