Like a stallion terrified of having children, they pulled me out of retirement. I was the best Special Agent they had, which was saying a lot, because I'm about as effective at my job as a mime having a stroke, and only half as hilarious. But I've been called upon to serve my nation again, and like the gift of surprise fellatio, I am bound to serve my nation well, and hopefully without any of the implied sexual humiliation. So I gotta buckle up and prepare for survivor's guilt, just like the time I had to go up against those racially-biased SAT questions involving graphic violence, adult language, and some sexual content.
When you're in a noir situation like mine, you could only think in metaphors and similes.