MY BEST FRIEND IS A SECRET AGENT, Book 2: How C.H.I.P. Took a Dive to Dash Dr. Eelstrom's Dreams of Dunking Vortville
After their first great adventure saving Vortville from the dreaded Freaky Fuzzies, Nort and Chip barely have a moment to breathe b...
But instead of talking to Carla the next day, I went fishing.
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I know, you're wondering, was this another way for me to celebrate having created C.H.I.P., the best, coolest new weapon against wacky bad guys since the Sticky Net Launcher? Or maybe just my idea of how to wind down after a pretty busy month?
No. And no.
I, Nort McKrakken, went fishing on a dingy in the middle of Lake Vortville because my dad, Colonel Brock McKrakken, told me to. And when someone named Colonel Brock McKrakken tells you to go fishing, you go fishing—even if he's not your dad.
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"Nort, fishing is the most relaxing way a man can spend his day off," Dad said as he leaned back and cast his fishing line.
Okay. Fine for him. But it wasn't exactly my favorite way to relax. My most relaxing day off would probably involve sharing a case of root beer with Carla Mawhinney. (Carla really likes root beer. Or so I'm told. I'm actually allergic to root beer, but I'm not going to let a few hives get in the way of true love.)
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Suddenly, Dad got a bite. "Thar she blows!" he said as he reeled in a big, fat trout – his third in the last fifteen minutes. "What a beauty!"
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