The following question (that is by no means phrased like a god damned question but is a damn question) may have been taken from an online job application.

You consider yourself a thrillseeker

a) wholly agree with this statement
b) somewhat agree with this statement
c) not sure
d) somewhat disagree with this statement
e) wholly disagree with this statement

Margret answered a. She figured what the hey. What she didn’t know, what she could possibly know, is that there was a black budgeted department of defense unapproved “special interest group” looking for retail minded thrillseekers that score 70% or better on their personality tests. The van was deployed with a full complement of scary men with goggles and special driver’s license that allowed them to eviscerate people under 70 mph. As the neared her location, she made nachos with fake cheese. She had said previously said that they were “scrumptious”.
The door bell rang, and unsurprisingly, she was not suspicious.

“Who is it?”
“Land shark.”

Nostalgic for that seventies-style comedy, she opened the door. She saw a man in his mid twenties in an office suit. He wore sunglasses even though it was midnight. An ear piece was fit snugly in his left ear, the wire coiled down. He was obviously a poor and deaf vacuum cleaner salesman who was also an insomniac. She has always been good at rationalizing. The man stepped clear of the door.

“Roger, Phyllis has stabbed the mailman.”

Margret was named Margret and had done no such thing but that could matter any less. Four scary goggled men surrounded her with black automatic weaponry and intensely hostile posturing. She knelt and put her hands behind her back sure that they actually wanted 817, a house north of her. They shrugged and after a minute they put her in plastic cuffs and placed a bag over her head. They lead her to the van.

The shoved her in and shut the door.The van sped up into an incredible almost hyper drive. It made a right and then a right and then a right and then another right. Then it stopped altogether and Margret felt sick. Her bag was removed and her cuffs were cut. The twenty-something man gently helped her out the van’s swing door and back to the sidewalk in front of her house. He handed her an envelope. Inside was a treasury check for two thousand dollars with a warning.

“This is tax exempt, do not file this with the IRS.”

She was left confused, soiled but happy to make rent. The crew left behind and the agent in the suit piled into the back of the van. The poor agents of undisclosed federal agency were disappointed. The ride home, wherever that home may be, was a somber one. All the agents in the van were saddened.

“If she was a real thrillseeker, she would have had us on the ground in thirty seconds.”
“I know I just wanted to believe.”