Mario Hezonja held the explosive-rigged gift basket up to Evan Fournier’s car window, unaware that the bomb’s timer would go off in thirty seconds or so. “You forgot your gift basket, Evan!”
“It was a gift!” Evan said, trying to keep the panic from his voice. “You keep it! That’s the point of a gift! I heartily recommend baking the Camembert with a nice crusty bread.” He pulled out his phone and called the number of his associate, a fellow Frenchman by the name of Cyprien. Cyprien had been the one to manufacture the bomb in the first place; Evan had no inclination to put his efforts towards such barbaric pursuits.
“Désamorcer la bombe de hezonja! Se dépêcher!” he whispered as soon as the call was answered. “Je suis en danger.”
“Oui.” responded Cyprien, who immediately hung up.
“Who you just called?” Mario asked, still naively holding the death-wielding basket of French delicacies. Both their fates lay in the technical abilities of a man sitting in front of his computer a thousand miles away.
Evan put on a smile which he knew would look fake. “Just a French friend of mine, to ask how best to prepare the escargot I gave you. Unfortunately, he had no ideas.”
Mario squinted into the basket. “Oh.” He clearly was not excited to eat snails, but had he been aware of how close he was to meeting his own demise, he might have found the prospect slightly less distasteful.
The basket had not yet exploded. Cyprien’s efforts had been a success. “Anyway, I have to leave now, Mario. My sponsorship meeting awaits. I hope to hang out with you again soon.”
“Yeah,” Mario said.
“Remember, the mini Eiffel Tower doubles as a candle holder. Perfect for a romantic date with a lady!” Evan waved good-bye, put the car in drive, and drove a safe distance away. There, he pulled over, his heart hammering. He again got out his phone and called the mastermind of his mission, French president François Hollande.
“Sir, the target still lives. He must have suspected something, he turned my own weapon against me, he-”
“Quiet, you piteous fool!” Hollande roared. “Let me guess, you attempted to plant a gift basket in his residence?”
“Yes, sir, but-”
“How could you act in such a stupid manner? Your brainless technique already failed to eliminate Vesely. Only a dolt of the highest order would do the same thing expecting a different outcome. Another failed attempt, Evan, and maybe Hezonja won’t be the only one who’s getting eliminated.”
“I understand, sir.” Evan ended the call and slumped into his seat, wishing more than anything that he could just be a basketball player again.
[Ed. Note: this storyline suddenly seems a lot less appropriate given recent events in France, but the show must go on…I hope all my friends in France are doing okay]