Declassified! Operation Haircut Wraps Up as Agent 8771 Returns from Exile

CWMC Improbable Bodyworks Division, Ardrossan, Ab: No sooner had the ink dried on the latest in a seriously substantial series of funding requisitions and debt-ceiling hikes did Agent 8771 abscond with his family in tow and seek refuge deep in the Canadian Rocky Mountains; seemingly far away from the inevitable financial thrashing reserved for lucky clients of the President's most profitable division of all.

  Unfortunately, the Prez decided that "Operation Haircut" was far enough along that further delays in the interest of fiscal propriety were counter-productive and should therefore be ignored, and said Operation should proceed with or without consent from Agent 8771, or any other non-inebriated, semi-responsible entity, for that matter.

  Several easily corruptible Agents were called in to assist, and, in the tradition of all worthwhile accomplishments, bribed with vague promises and free intoxicants in exchange for hard labour and inhuman working conditions. A dependable supply chain of drugs, tacos, and chocolate bars was secured, and work progressed steadily despite near-zero visibility conditions as the roaches piled up and mountains of butts accrued on every available surface. Conversation became impossible as Agents' vocabularies were reduced to hoarse grunts and pointing motions that were largely indecipherable in the choking blue miasma.


Hand-painted stripes to really blow the budget...



  Eventually, a sort of reasonable-looking body was achieved, and painting was left to the now-nearly-vegetative President, who, despite the horrifying conditions of shop and self, managed to get most of the vehicle into a single shade of blue without collapsing on the hood, or just painting the wrong car altogether. Overall, by the standards of the Worst Shop in the Universe winner 8 years running, a pretty fair accomplishment, and noteworthy if only for a clear lack of moths, birds, and small rodents in the final finish.



Just "a few" things left to do...

  Eventually, Agent 8771 returned from his period of self-imposed exile, inevitably to discover to his horror that attempting to hide in the wilderness had only ensured that budgetary considerations had been completely abandoned in his absence, that his two hundred dollar junkyard piece-of-shit had been so thoroughly laboured upon as to be unrecognizeable, and, despite the monumental tab, the car was still completely dismantled and needing weeks of reassembly.

  Agent 8771 could not be reached for comment, having locked himself and his money-pit a safe distance away from the CWMC compound while he attempts to find some of the parts and scrape the "extra" primer off the vinyl top, etc.