Not The Pink Panther

The outrageously pink and (inevitably) English fag, was laying the compliments on FuelMix thick and fast. As flattering as they were, FuelMix was getting the uncomfortable feeling that he was being set up.  Sandwiched between the pink fag and a rapidly inebriating chink fag at the University of Fag Bar (pending accreditation), FuelMix sat there grimly while the pink fag ooohed and aaahed while running his pudgy fingers across FuelMix's muscled bod.

The pink fag was an animated conversationalist.  But something about his conversation was making FuelMix suspicious:

• He was well traveled;
• He'd lived in Beijing for a few years but claimed to have forgotten his Mandarin;
• He was on first name terms with British royalty;
• He was on first name terms with British politicians;
• He was hosting dinners for British royalty and British politicians;
• He knew who all the high ranking fags were;
• He claimed to be an academic, majoring in "Communication Studies"

FuelMix finished his drink and excused himself.  Walking along the streets of Very Rich Megacity on his way home,  something about that pink fag didn't gel.

At 2 am the next morning, FuelMix bolted upright in his bed.  Suddenly it all made sense.  The pink fag was a British spy based in Asia.

Originally published 23 September 2010
Republished 8 May 2013 | 3 November 2014