EIGHT: WILLIE THE LIZARD AND BOTH OF HIS SPIES

Willie the Lizard and both of his spies had plenty of eyes, had plenty of eyes. Tho Willie was eager, the other spies meager, this did not tarnish their silver surprise, I won’t say it twice. They figured in culverts, they drew lines on horseshoes, they cowered in buckets from laundry and items, they watched and took notebooks, they talked to recordings, they watched for the usual and also the un.

Tho spying was hardly, it made for the daytime. They watched in the night when the moon was on fire. They had little stories they told to their snail brains, they kept their heads moving, the songs small as thimbles.

The spies must be quiet, their shoes must be squeakless, they must take good notes if they take anything. They use their eyeglasses to note dates and numbers, they use their ears quickly for smallest directions.

Cyclops had to spy his way to find the spies. Cyclops had to lizard a route to find the Lizard on that sqinty day. He had to look, he had to listen, he had to lie in wait in the belly of the surveillance state. He had to close circuit torture, he had to make a ring around the orchard, he had to stop and wait for the next to die, he simply had no idea what he would have to do.

The thing about spies is that you do not find them, they find you. They can follow your nose, they can follow your woes. They can see which way your eye is, they share laundry with your brain and you never know if they had lunch for they do not leave a stain.

He could follow their crumbs but they left no crumbs. He could follow their thumbs but they did not show their thumbs. He could follow their steps but they left behind no steps. He could follow the backs of their jackets, and this worked when you saw their jackets. They said in big letters, “Spies.”

“I found you,” Cyclops said.

“No, on the contrary, on the counter-terror contrary. We found you,” said Willie the Lizard. Both of his spies nodded in surmise.

“Well, we found each other,” Cyclops said, slightly nervous even tho he was so much bigger than the tiny rat spies who scurried around his invisible footstool.

“We always find you, and that is your clue,” said Willie the Lizard, in a scurrying tone, in a scudding and creepy voice of ghost.

“Well, I have a question for you,” said Cyclops, and Willie said he knew it. He knew that Cyclops was going to ask something, and he knew exactly what he was going to ask. He said it and he meant it, and to back it up, he snapped some fingers.

When Willie the Lizard snapped his fingers, both of his spies pulled out a sheaf of documents. All were stamped with a big red logo that said, “Confidential,” like a perfume, like the perfect running shoe slogan. Willie the Lizard looked thru the perfume, the shoes and the sheaf and he nodded as he read, and he looked up with his two to the one of Cyclops, and he knew, he just knew, he just knew and knew and knew.

Cyclops didn’t know. He just looked and watched the show. He just watched the spy show novel, and he didn’t at all know.

“They say you should stay, and yet you want to go. You want to go them to show them, to show Dingy Bahsome. You want to show her and be her and see her and free her. You want to free yourself to be her, and that is your moral,” said Willie the Lizard in a large sheaf thought, and Cyclops just had to blink because he felt too far to think.

Willie the Lizard slammed the documents shut with a flick of his safe, and he walked some more in slither, and he surrounded Cyclops at the feet.

“Have you ever considered Surgery War?” asked Willie the Lizard, and Cyclops didn’t know a thing, so Willie and the Spies filled him in on all the latest surveillance.

“Should I drive a car to surgery war?” Cyclops asked.

Willie the Lizard said, “Your best bet is to walk. Only potatoes driver to surgery war, or any other war, for that matter.”