The Adventures of Vulva Fervor

Bolivian Oblivion

When ARDOR informed me they’d intercepted “intelligence” (the occasional irony of that word never ceases to amuse me) that RANCOR had a factory in Bolivia that was manufacturing a knock-off H1N1 vaccination that was about to hit the international black market, I begged for the opportunity to break the case.

First, It would mean the chance to take down (if you will) Eduardo, with whom it’s safe to say I’ve a bit of “unfinished business”. Today he is South America’s #1 underground toxic chemical manufacturer. But when I first met him, he was the rising star of photojournalism, and I the rising star of International Peacekeeping Enforcement. I let him buy me a drink despite his cliche opening, “I’d love to photograph you.” If you could hear his charming accent you too would be inclined to be forgiving. I’m not sure when or why Eduardo went rogue, but it doesn’t matter. Business is business.

Second, I’m long overdue for a trip to South America. This time of year always  reminds me of Sorata. I don’t know, maybe it’s the Eduardo thing again. It was the morning after that fateful “I’d love to photograph you”meeting on September 16. Deciding to go for a picnic, we got in his jeep and started driving.  We soon realized we’d forgotten to buy any food, or bring water, or get gas, and ended up stranded out in the middle of nowhere and if it weren’t for this kind old shepherd who stumbled upon us (literally — it was getting so hot in the jeep) who noticed Eduardo’s camera equipment and luckily the shepherd actually did want his picture taken so Eduardo complied and the shepherd fed us and got us drunk and it truly was the most marvelous day! But I digress…

I knew this mission would be extra special when Twilite Fontanelle greeted me at the hangar! Twi rarely works in the field these days. But apparently she too has some “unfinished business” in Bolivia. Let the games begin!

We were personally led to the suspected scene of the crime by Sorata’s unofficial mayor, “Queen Maria” (Twilite’s above-mention “unfinished business; for more details you’ll have to contact Twi yourself via secure channel). Maria’s family has sort-of ruled this village for centuries, and they are well-loved by the locals. So when they heard of RANCOR corrupt business venture, Maria knew to contact yours truly to get the job done effectively.

On our initial recon of the area, we established that this job was going to be much easier than we’d ever dreamed. It turns out that the translator Eduardo hired wasn’t so fluent in English after all (sadly, Eduardo never was terribly detail-oriented). And thus the knockoff “Swine Flu” vaccine they’d manufactured to sell on the black market was actually a “Donkey Flu” vaccine. Not much demand for that one anywhere. When we informed the destitute day-laborers that this was in fact the case (and we were offering cash for any information), they couldn’t talk fast enough! Eduardo made a signature quick exit before we could bring him up on any charges. But our paths will cross again…

The Final Session of Sibling Psychotherapy

Here’s one chapter I’m more than happy to see come to a close: my stupid sister Viva and I had our final session of sibling psychotherapy. Not because we have “Healed Our Shared Wound” or “Built a Bridge of Love” nor any other of the lamebrained goals Tak Ishii set for us.

It’s because he’s sueing us (and ARDOR) if Viva ever comes within 100 yards of him. My two new favorite words: Restraining Order.

Tak wanted us to do the impossible: a Trust Exercise. You’ve seen it before, where one person falls backward, the other catches them in their arms. I tried telling him it was a huge mistake, but Dr. 100%-Success-Rate wouldn’t believe me.

The first half was fine. I caught Viva. All 98 pounds of her. But darling you don’t think I was going to trust her to do that same, do you? I mean, the girl has the attention span of a fruitfly. And I cannot afford injury right now, as we’re about to go into our busy season at ARDOR. Many terrorists get restless at summer’s end for some reason. It’s the oddest thing. Some liken it to that back-to-school melancholy of youth, though it’s been my experience that most terrorists are not highly educated (formally, that is). But I digress…

Tak thought I was greatly underestimating Viva. So to show me a thing or two, he stepped in, awaiting her to catch him. And of course, at the exact moment he was falling backward, Little Miss Popular got a text message. Priorities, priorities!

He crashed into his $12,000 mother of pearl inlaid glass sculpture. He got a concussion and was hospitalized overnight. Oh, and the blood from that gash!

The good news is my time is now my own again, so that I may focus on what is important. World Peace. As for Viva, I’ve no idea. She was ordered by the state of California to stay away until after Fleet Week is over, as a result of that “performance” she put on for the Blue Angels last year (the one that shut down the Golden Gate Bridge for seven hours). I pray this time she’s learned. But I sense otherwise.

Not-so Brave New World.

This time, RANCOR has gone too far.

Personally, I think my time is much better spent fighting real crime and threats to world peace. But it’s hard to find time for that when one walks out one’s door, only to find a rookie from ARDOR rival RANCOR rummaging through the rubbish bin of yours truly!

I don’t know if the wayward agent was doing so on official business, or was snooping for something a more personal effect, shall we say. Now that my life story is being made into a blockbuster feature film, every day I find my privacy more and more falling by the wayside.

And now that ARDOR has instilled a “no arms” policy in hopes of setting a peaceful example for the rest of the world, I couldn’t eliminate the pest the good old-fashioned way. “Gathering Evidence” is the method of choice now. The new formula goes like this:

1. Gather Evidence: videotape, audio recording, etc.

2. Use said evidence as a tool of persuasion, if you will. For example “We will broadcast this, unless you agree to … ” I think you get the idea. This is actually the fun part. Watching them squirm.

3. The end result being prevention. The perp will never, ever, want to be in that hotseat ever again.

But I must confess, I do wax nostalgic for the good old days, when problems were deleted at the source, no one complained about not having enough (evidence) storage space, and one could blows off a little steam throughout the day — all while making the world a safer place. But these are different times in which we live. Times that call for extreme measures.

A new category of torture for the CIA: psychotherapy with my stupid sister Viva.

All of Tak’s efforts at bringing closer together  Viva “call me VFer” (don’t ask) and yours truly are beginning to feel like a lesson in futility (from this point known as an “LFu” — much easier for VFer to pronounce).

This week started with another little exercise, this one: Role Reversal. We had to pretend we were each other and say what we like — and then, dislike — about one another. Then (still as the other person), what we like/disliked about ourselves. As you can imagine, it took hours just to explain this to VFer in terms she could actually grasp. Poor darling was tired after partying with the cast of “Gossip Girl” (?) the night before.

We breezed right through the “like” portion in no time. The dislike: let’s just say Tak was more than happy to share with us that stash of “happy pills” he seems to keep at-the-ready whenever we have an appointment.

Next was what Tak felt was a vital task: That we form a bond of touch. Yes, seriously. We assured him a hug was out of the question, so for now we played “hands”. just palm-to-palm. Like you see in films when family visits family in prison — only they’re fortunate enough to have a panel of glass between them (which is what I suggested).

We got through it. But for the first time in my life, I can honestly say I’m afraid. Afraid of what our next session holds in store…

Adieu to “The King Of Porn” Bjorn

I don’t normally take “souvenir shots” after successfully accomplishing a mission — where would I keep such an enormous collection even if I did? But I couldn’t resist this time. Because the very arrogant target swore that his walls were impenetrable.

Of course he didn’t forsee yours truly being assigned the case. And “The King of Porn” Bjorn Bjornsund isn’t quite as clever as he thought. His crime is creating / distributing / pirating porn. Now darling, of course I have no problems with the porn industry. I think that it keeps so many people healthy and happy and — so long as no one is hurt or underpaid or underage or coerced to do something they’re not  comfortable doing — really what’s the crime?

But the reason why I wanted to bring Bjorn down is he was peddling American porn. The worst! Why, American porn make carnal pleasure look downright painful (judging by the expressions on the women’s faces) and oftentime silly (and don’t even get me started on the art direction or lack thereof). Honestly, watch some Swedish porn and compare, you’ll see what I mean. The Swedes actually enjoy sex, one would assume, after watching their product. And Bjorn is Swedish / Norwegian. He’s got the greatest porn on the planet right there in his own backfjord… why peddle the worst on the market? I find his lack of taste and good judgment to be his greatest crime.

And now I must painstakingly sort through mountains and hours of evidence. Oh what fresh hell is this? I just pray that My stupid sister Viva doesn’t turn up on one of these tapes. You never know with her.

My stupid sister Viva: putting the “psycho” in sibling psychotherapy.

Session 2 with Tak, and I don’t believe progress was made. He has established that we have a dependent (Viva on me, naturally) / co-dependent relationship. Yes darling I know, does it get any more cliche than that?

So he had us do an exercise where Little Miss Center-Of-The-Universe could not begin any sentence with “I” (talk about asking the impossible!); and yours truly could not begin any sentence with “You”. Then he asked us to express what we want from each other. Needless to say, the silence was deafening. And… I’ll spare you the details, but long story short, it came to fisticuffs. Again. Of course I had to restrain myself, me being a trained martial artist and Viva being the 99 lb. Queen of Blow.

Tak thinks his original goal of 6 months to a healthy relationship may have been overly optimistic, in hindsight.

THE most elite team ever assembled: The MRS

The past few months have been spent training Empress Of The Universe Angeline Jolie for her latest part as a world-class spy in the film Salt. Much to my chagrin. I’m over it. But apparently they could find no one else willing to work in her rarefied world, plus she begged me. And ultimately they offered me such an obscene sum to take the assignment, I acquiesced. Honestly I do not know why she went into acting, if all she wants to do is act like a spy — not to say she’s up for the job. Far from it. For starters, she would need to stop expanding her Colony Of Adorable Offspring. But I digress…

With a week off during production so that she may fly off to the middle east to adopt yet another camp of refugees, I found myself with a little down time. But that didn’t last long. I got a call from my favorite ladies in San Francisco, The Mrs. Robinson Society (MRS). You know them as a movable social club, a think-tank for sophisticated ladies of a certain ilk. But I know them as so much more. Whenever I need a team that can mount any hurdle (no matter how large), dominate any adversary, render useless any weapon — you get the idea — I call The MRS. These ladies can penetrate any wall you might erect, conquer any obstacle you might thrust at them… oops, there I go again.

When it was discovered that one of their “Benjamins” had gone rogue (being indiscreet was the least of his crimes), they needed an outside source to handle the matter, shall we say. And no one enjoys disciplining a wayward lad more than yours truly.

The AK-47 was just a scare tactic, darling! You know I don’t need arms to get the job done. My impressive weapon collection is exclusively for recreational activities these days. Knives being my favorite. That’s one thing Goddess Jolie and I have in common. Credit where credit’s due: she’s pretty good with a MAK7-WB.

Back on the set tomorrow. One bit of good news — I hope: I’ve found something to occupy my stupid sister Viva for a while: she’s going to be nanny to Brangelina’s brood. Of course not top nanny, darling! You don’t think I’m crazy, do you! She will be supervised by the other five (one for every moppet). But it’ll be something new for her. And honestly: I’ve met the other five nannies. Viva will suffer dearly if she tries to get away with anything at all. I mean it, those women make me nervous. I just wish I could be a fly on the wall her first day…

Day 1 of sibling counseling with Viva La Diva

This is going to be a long, hard chapter in my life. I can tell already.

At ARDOR’s insistence, I’ve begun sibling counseling with my stupid sister Viva. On Monday, we met with Tak Ishii, one of the most esteemed psychologists and and author of several bestsellers, including Live — And Let Your Sibling Live and Love To Hate To Love.

Honestly, it never dawned on me to encourage her to put on some clothes for our appointment. Or ditch the beer. But That’s our Viva the Diva, straight off the plane from Vegas. As if you couldn’t have guessed that.

Wanting to make the most of the time and get to the genesis of our “differences”, Tak hypnotized us, and took us way back, all the way to our mother’s womb. Apparently, that’s when/where we had our first fight. Little Miss “Talks In Her Sleep” was at it even then — and that was the first time I tried to kill her (strangulation with the umbilical chord). So… Tak thinks we have a long road ahead of us. He’s hopeful, and if this is what it takes for me to be promoted to ARDOR’s Senior Executive International Peacekeeper, so be it. I’m a professional.

Now Hiring: Bodyguard

I’ve going to be on assignment in the middle east in a few short weeks, and the brains at ARDOR have decided that due to current unrest there, I will need a bodyguard. Can you believe that? A bodyguard!

But… I’ve warmed to the idea. Especially, I’ve warmed to the process of finding a bodyguard who meets all the demands of the job.

My first choice was naturally my protogee, “Drill Bit” Kit. But he’s deep undercover (where he does his best work); this time penetrating a rogue Arizona border-patrol militia. He sent me this snap, taken in their “secret headquarters” meeting basement. Which also doubles as a storehouse for bad ’80’s porn as well, Agent Kit reports.

Next I wanted Matti. You recall Matti from that silly “kidnapping” incident. Fortunately, we managed to put that whole thing behind us, and have grown rather close in recent months. The best thing about Matti is I wouldn’t have to train him at all. In fact, he’s taught me a few new “covert moves”, shall we say. Sadly, Matti is being deported as we speak. It seems they found out where he’s been staying. I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned it to my stupid sister Viva — who knows who she’s been talking (in her sleep) to lately. Idiot.

So, the search continues. Please send resume (along with headshot, references, and salary requirements) to vulva@vulvafervor.com

Welcome, darling. Come inside.