"Wouldnât it be wild if he actually ended up in a secret government facility by accident, then got caught up in a world-ending software attack?"
Bob turns his entire life around to pursue his calling of acting. After attending what he believes to be a filming for a hit new television show, he is accidentally and unknowingly brought into the top-secret world of hygienic espionage. Now while he focuses on the stresses of impressing a potential employer and dealing with his motion sickness, he must act his best to potentially land a big role and save the world from D.I.R.T., Dastardly International Rude Team.
Along the way, he'll use high-tech gadgets, work with the most elite spies in the world, and try to survive dangers that he had no idea were coming.
"Wouldnât it be wild if he actually ended up in a secret government facility by accident, then got caught up in a world-ending software attack?"
Bob turns his entire life around to pursue his calling of acting. After attending what he believes to be a filming for a hit new television show, he is accidentally and unknowingly brought into the top-secret world of hygienic espionage. Now while he focuses on the stresses of impressing a potential employer and dealing with his motion sickness, he must act his best to potentially land a big role and save the world from D.I.R.T., Dastardly International Rude Team.
Along the way, he'll use high-tech gadgets, work with the most elite spies in the world, and try to survive dangers that he had no idea were coming.
The alarm blared. Bob sighed and drowsily tapped snooze on his alarm clock, which read 6:00 a.m. in bright red text.
He had about ten minutes of wiggle room but got up anyway. He tricked himself with that line way too many times and couldnât afford to be late today. After rolling out of bed and quickly stretching, Bob headed over to the bathroom of his studio apartment.
        One of the few perks of living in a studio apartment was that he could leave everything where he wanted, including his gym equipment. He left his weights in front of the TV, a grip strengthener on his desk, and a medicine ball underneath the kitchen table. It was perfect. He didnât have anyone rearranging everything to make it better. The other perk was that it was just about the only thing affordable for the average 25-year-old in this city. His old place was better. Two bedrooms. Tons of amenities. Unfortunately, it required him to do a job that drained his soul. So, when he left it, he had to downsize. Bob tried the roommate thing, but it grew old faster than moldy bread, so he was stuck with a studio.
        Bobâs phone rang, playing the custom ringtone he set for his mom. He danced for the first few rings then spit out his toothpaste and answered.
        âHey, Mom.âÂ
        âHey, honey. Just wanted to make sure you were up,â she said.
        âYup, yeah. Iâm just getting ready.â
        âYou know your father didnât think we should drive you? Can you believe that?â
        âOh, no, I agree. Mom, I say this from a place of love, but I can get myself to the shoot.â
        âI know, I know, but a mother never stops worrying.â
        âYup. Love you too.â
Bobâs mom ran through her obligatory checklist of things to make sure he was ready, including whether he packed his lunch, ironed his clothes, and bought a present to give to the casting directors. After each question, Bob replied yes, though he sounded more annoyed each time.
Bob said, âYou know we donât have to do this every time. Iâm an adult.â
âI donât care how old you are. Iâm still your mother. Now, where did I leave off?â
She continued the questions like an interrogation. Once Bob survived that gauntlet, his mom enunciated a kiss and hung up. He smiled. She was the best, even if she was overprotective.
        Bob looked back at his phone and sprinted for the door. No time for breakfast.
The city subway took him to Central Station, the meeting point for the shoot. The casting director, who worked for a studio he never heard of, included him on an email chain that told everyone where to meet. It was a little strange to not meet at the set or the studio, but Bobâs friend swore it was legit, even though he had to dig the email out of his spam folder. She was waiting for him right outside the turnstiles that opened up into the main station.
Underneath a heavy indigo jacket, she wore her typical dark green ratty sweatshirt back from her college lacrosse days, though it was a bit tighter now that she wasnât training six days a week. Her hood was thrown back, catching some of her shoulder-length braids, the rest of which framed her oval face.
        âBro, you gotta believe me,â she said. âGranted, theyâre a little weird, but they pay you, they feed you, and if youâre good, they give you a callback on another project. The shows never hit, but my agent said itâs great exposure.â
        âMoni, your agent is your cousin, and heâs high ninety-nine percent of the time.â
Moni rolled her eyes and kept eating her to-go muffin.
        âYouâre just jealous that I have representation.â
        âI swear Iâm not. You mind coming with me? I wanna grab a snack. I couldnât eat before I left.â
        Moni pulled out her phone after she finished the last bite of her muffin, which was a nauseating accomplishment. The entire station was undergroundâthe perfect place for a dirty metallic smell to stew. The wall-mounted fans spun but didnât do anything to help the stench.
 âAh, sorry, bud. No can do,â she said. âWeâre supposed to meet the bus in a minute.â Bob frowned. She was right. Every place was either closed or had a line of twenty people. His stomach grumbled in protest. Empty stomachs and bus rides never well for him.
        âYou said they have food at these things?â
Moni nodded.
âOkay, fine. Letâs head up.â
The two puttered along on the escalator up to street level. Bobâs nose patiently waited for the relatively fresh air to embrace his nostrils. Moni tugged on his sleeve.
âHey, is that Charlie?â
âSeriously? Nedâs brother? No way. I havenât seen him in months.â
The terminal was a sea of commuters, tourists, and homeless people weaving through each other with expert precision. Bob stood on his tiptoes but still didnât have any luck spotting his old friend.
 âI donât see himâŠWait! NoâŠMaybe it wasnât him.â
âYeahâŠumâŠyou should invite him out with us.â
âYeah, sure. Heâs a blast.â
 âThat andâŠheâs built like a brick house.â
âGo for it, Moni. My mom was saying he got some huge promotion at work, so he might also be a good sugar daddy.â
Moni grinned.
        The bus was there at 7:00 a.m. sharp. It was a black, unlabeled school bus and a dark film covered the windows. The bus door opened with a hydraulic psssshhh that revealed the bus driver, who was his own mystery. He wore black sunglasses (even though it was cloudy) and rocked a black suit, white button-down, and a black tie. His head and face were cleanly shaven.
        The crowd of extras waiting near the top of the escalator filtered over and formed a line. Bob was sixth in line with Moni behind him. There were all sorts of people around him. One, because it was Central City, and the most unique people came here, and two, they were a bunch of wannabe actors who wanted to show off their uniqueness.
        âThis guy looks intense,â Moni whispered in his ear. Bob nodded. He thought about agreeing out loud, but the driver looked like a trained watchdog ready to pounce on any word. The other actors were also quiet and just stared at the driver.
        âAre you all here for theâŠshow audition?â the driver said. The first person in line nodded, and then the rest of the line followed.
        âCan you speak up? Itâs kind of loud, and we canât hear you,â someone said from the back. Bob turned back. The speaker wore a bright pink polo shirt, Bermuda shorts, and a Bluetooth earpiece. The guy continued and said, âIf youâre here for the show extras, can you let us on? I donât want to be late.â
        The bus driverâs hand crept to his waistband like he was going to draw a gun, then he jerked his hand away and grumbled to himself. With a yell, he said, âThis is for the show extras. Was that loud enough for you in the back?â
        The line giggled and replied yes.
        âOkay, good. There are no assigned seats. Donât be a jerk and take up two seats. Your bags arenât that important. Put them on the ground. No, not that ground! On the ground in front of your seat.â His gaze didnât leave Pink Polo Guy. âDid I make myself clear? Okay, good. Now, get on.â
Bob Becomes an Agent is a fast and fun novella that introduces the characters and premise of author P.J. Cruzâs superhero/supervillain spoof series Bad Luck Bob. With amazing gadgets and weaponry all themed to complement the mission of the super-secret government agency, C.L.E.A.N., to fight the supervillains of D.I.R.T., I smiled through the entire clever tale.
The main character, Bob Johnson, is wholesome and earnest in his desire to become a successful actor, and heâs already invested quite a lot in the pursuit, having left a lucrative career and lifestyle behind him to do so. Now in his 30s, heâs anxious to do well and ease his parentsâ worries that heâs made a terrible mistake. I enjoyed the premise that he is so deeply committed to this path that even when presented with clear evidence that heâs not actually filming a television show, he continues to buy in to the cover story. I liked that pals from his past played a part in the bigger story. D.I.R.T.âs evil plan was ridiculously over the top but fun, yet there were aspects of a Big Brother nature that ring true today. I enjoyed Bobâs âNinja Warrior-styleâ test for acceptance into the agency.
Location descriptions may have been a little light; however, I got a clear enough picture of where the action occurred. Things happen so fast, though, that I donât know if there was really time or a need to elaborate without throwing off the pace. The author takes the clichĂ© of a villainâs lair and makes improvements that perfectly fit the theme, and the appearance of a work gelato bar was fun.
When the mission is completed, there are still some loose ends that could make for nice jumping-off spots for future adventures. Iâm glad that book two of the series is already available for pre-order, so I can follow up on how Bob is doing later.
I recommend BOB BECOMES AN AGENT to readers who enjoy spoofs of the spy/thriller genre.