Caught Out

The Freedom of Information act could get some janitors killed. Must be the internet, but my understanding was that all the records had been destroyed. To have it thrown back in my face now is quite a shock. That damned Barnhart is a ferret when it comes to search engines. I was at the Lamasery Lavatory Complex when the shit hit the fan. That much is true. But it was at Podoisk, not Potala. A great deal of time and money was spent on that ruse, despite the fact that Mary and I had both assured everyone that a cover-up would never work, the stink was just too great. Podoisk was where Lenin liked to meet his cronies, some agency got wind of something going on, and as there was a very good school there, offering graduate courses in Frozen Pipes and Composting Under Adverse Conditions. The Cold War going on, but there was still an exchange of information. We were inserted in the guise of simple Mid-Western students. As I'm the only one left alive, for the record, I feel the need to set things straight. When the "dirty bomb" went off, I was several miles away, looking for my glasses, in a sod hut, where, two afternoons a week, I'd meet a lovely Latvian exchange student, Greta, and we'd attempt sex under the weight of several bearskins. Movement was impossible and we often just talked about old movies. Because the sod huts were dug into the ground, when the explosion happened, I was several feet below grade, on my hands and knees. Everything at ground level was swept away. A day later, huddled under a bearskin and turf, I signaled a chopper, within days I was back in Iowa, told never to say anything to anyone. My life as a spy.