A Little Party That Got Out Of Hand

This post is written for Sunday Photo Fiction. 

The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to write a piece whether it is a story or poetry using the image as inspiration in ~ 250 words or less.

My story follows the picture prompt.

The Waterfront in Cumbria, along with exact location

“Barns, Ricky Barns,” he answered when the desk clerk asked him a name for this hotel reservation. He always thought of himself as the James Bond type. Not everyone agreed.

He had worked his way up the ranks of the Secret Service until he now held the position of Special Agent in Charge. He was know as a “fast tracker” in the agency.

This week he had the ideal assignment: protecting the President of The United States (POTUS) on his latest international peace keeping trip. Oh how he liked to use the word POTUS! He now had a group of 12 agents that reported to him. They had the president’s protection planned to the most minute detail.

His group had flow in a full week before the schedule arrival of the President. The grounds were searched and were now secured. The guest list had been checked for any potential trouble makers. Special sniper agents were ready to take their place in the next twenty four hours.

Ricky decided that his team needed a little rest and relaxation before Air Force One touched down. He made the arrangements himself, not trusting any of his subordinates. He would take credit for this little party. What could go wrong he asked himself. A little party never hurt anyone and who would ever know anyway.

“Barns, Ricky Barns,” she answered when the desk clerk asked her what guest she had an appointment with.
The headline in the local paper the next day shouted:

Investigator in Secret Service Prostitution Scandal Resigns

Good by Barnes, Mr. Ricky Barnes.

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