"How do you spell relief?"
Tracy froze, panic stricken. After wards, she would come to believe that incorrectly spelling one simple word had sent her on that undercover mission to Canada.
"Fasten your jetpack, number 2." Not what she wanted to hear. "Number 2 prepare to eject." She looked at Vince, and winced at the erstwhile prince. Seconds ticked by, remaining calm, she wished she'd remembered to tell the captain her truth ful status. She had left out the word 'junior' on her club-card. Sighting the rifle on the floor, she picked up the weapon before realizing Vince held a pistol to his head. "No Vince, mince later, computer chips now!" Angrily wincing at her lack of expression, Vince fell to his knees and said "One sentence, baby, and you will silence me on this forever."
Tracy leapt onto the large diamondback rattler coiled surreptitiously inside her jetpack. It began to vibrate, soap suds fanning out. In her S.O.S. message the panic was clear. 'How do you spell relief?' That girl couldn't spell, she left out words - Tracy deserved to die!
