Natie Kersch

It was a night like any other night, at first. I was rushing back to my place of residence after working overtime at my local diner. I had my briefcase in hand, and my hat hat firmly pressed against my head with my other hand. My coat was dragging through the water when a taxi came to my rescue. The taxi driver said to me “hey, you look lost.” I told him that I was just trying to get home. He told me he could give me a lift… For a price. I had a few extra dollars cash in my pocket. So I got in the vehicle and told him, “24th and Main.” The slow rumble of the storm and the sound of Bob Dylan playing softly from the radio put me to sleep almost immediately. When I awoke, I sure wasn’t at 24th and Main. I was at a police investigation office. The taxi driver was gone, so I got myself out of the car and did the only thing I could do to get some answers: enter the police investigation office. So I entered the police investigation office and the receptionist firmly told me, “it’s the door on the left, sir.” Confused, I slowly made my way to the door on the left. I approached the frosted glass door, turned the knob, and found myself in a dark room, only lit by a lamp sitting on a desk in the middle. There was an executive chair behind the desk, turned facing the window looking out to the rainy street. As the door clicked shut behind me, the chair slowly turned to face my direction, revealing a stubby man with slicked back hair. Cigar in mouth, he began to talk. “We have some business to discuss.” He reached into his overcoat, withdrew a large envelope, and handed it to me. Stamped in red letters were the words “TOP SECRET”. And just under it was a sticker with the words “Natie Kersch.” This was the day that changed my life forever.

Just kidding. My name’s Natie Kersch. As in, first name: Natie, last name: Kersch.

By the way, I really hope you read that whole thing with a New York accent and pictured it in grainy black and white.