If you look out your windows, you'll likely notice one thing this year. "What is it?", you say. There's NO SNOW!! "But I Live in Florida", you say. Okay. If you live in Florida, then no snow is natural, but here, in Canada, we still don't have any snow. "That's a good one", you say, "and I bet that pigs fly." No. We still don't have very much snow up here, and it's really starting to wear on the nerves of some people up here, especially those that have been waiting for the snow for the past 6 months. "That's absurd", you say, "nobody waits for snow."
That's enough. Can you keep out of this. I'm trying to explain.
"Okay", you say.

Now, as I was saying, having no snow in Canada is a very unusual thing, especially in December. Usually we have the first snowfalls in about July, and then the next ones in October (just to bug the die-hard skiers). Unfortunately, this year, we had one good snow, and then it all melted and we can still see the dirt.
"What is happening?", you ask.
I thought I told you to be quiet, but that is a good point.
"Thank you", you say.
Now, as you have mentioned, the snow isn't here. Why? Well, we at The SPU are pretty sure that it is the evil doings of those dastardly criminals, none other than those vile fiends themselves. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .George and Edna Norrit.
"Who's. . . . . ."
Be quiet.
"Okay."

Now. Who are George and Edna Norrit? Well, after much research, we discovered that about 8 months ago, there was an ugly incident, whereupon an un-named company sold condos at a "fabulous new retirement home overlooking sunny coastlines, complete with friendly animals, close neighbours, and little urban development". The truth of the matter was, the condos were in Antarctica, and (since they never actually said it was in Florida) many retired people were conned into spending their savings on these condos and moving in.
"What about George an. . . "
Be quiet. I was getting to that.
"Sorry."
Thank you. Well, now. George and Edna Norrit were some of the people that were conned into buying one of these "fabulous condos", in hopes of moving to Florida. Because they now coudn't enjoy the beaches and weather that they originally moved there for, and they didn't have the access to an airport to leave (and because they had great cable prices, with the movie channels for free), they decided to make the best of the situation. One day, in Arts & Crafts hour, they constructed a giant weather machine, capable of altering the weather for large areas. They named it El Niņo, and as soon as winter came, they turned it on and turned their snowy wasteland into a resort town. Unfortunately, this is also affecting the rest of the world. This effect, though, is blamed on a water current, so the general population doesn't get suspicious.

The problem that remains, though, is what to do about this weather machine. As soon as we realised that it was a weather machine that was changing the climate of the world, we sent Agent 000 to "disable the weather machine". Actually, those were the only orders he was given. He hadn't even heard that there was a weather machine.
"Why didn't you tell him where it was?"
Very good question. Now be quiet.
Well, to put it simply, the "stir-stick joke" is only funny the first 6 times you hear it. After the mid 30's, you'll do anything to get him out of the building. This has been evident in some of the recent missions Agent 000 has been sent on, including "Go and rent the movie with that guy in it", "Go pick up the parcel from that place", and "I'll have a unicorn burger for lunch, but not from the one with only one horn".

So, as Agent 000 left on his vague mission, we all enjoyed the silence and were thankful we didn't have to hear ". .so then the plumber says. ." at all. After a few hours, we decided to get back to the topic at hand, namely, El Niņo. We decided that it would probably be a good idea to actually go down to Antarctica, and have a word with George and Edna Norrit. Even if it failed, we might just be able to turn the range on the machine down. Within an hour, we were at the airport, attempting to take the first commercial flight to Antarctica. In another hour, we were still sitting at the airport. It turns out that there are no commercial flights to Antarctica, and we'd have to charter a boat or private plane, or just parachute in. Not liking any of those ideas very much, we chose option 4, which was "borrow a plane from the Mental Institute". Within another few hours, we were on our way to Antarctica.

In a couple of hours we were in sight of Antarctica. The speed of the trip had a lot to do with the choice of plane. Although we had originally wanted one with a lot of space, we all immediately agreed on the B-2 stealth bomber when we saw it. Even though comfort is always an important option, the ability to turn a metropolis into a smouldering crater is just a slight notch higher on the "importance scale". Anyway, back to the topic, we were soon standing on a hill overlooking the "Happy Penguin Retirement Subdivision". We all were sure that this peaceful looking seinors' village looked small, but was probably more highly defended than Fort Knox. Rather than attempting to barge in like the idiots they expected to come and try and destroy their weather machine, we decided there must be a back door to the compound. We circled the perimeter of the compound to get an idea of what the defences were. Sure enough, there were two elderly men with golf clubs near the back of the compound who appeared to be "searching for golf balls". An average person would have thought that they actually were golfing, but we saw through the trick immediately, and saw the men for the perimeter guards that they were. Since the back way was blocked, we split up to see if we could spot any other defences. When we met again, Agent 001 reported a wall of fences (probably electrified) along the right side, Agent 001/2 found a kennel of attack penguins along the left, and I turned up nothing but a steep cliff with a beach at the bottom. A flight of stairs led from the beach to the compound. We finally decided to use tactics, and sneak in under the cover of darkness. After nightfall, once the last few lights had turned off, we snuck into the center of the town, and used the directional signs to find El Niņo. The sign led us right to El Niņo, and we looked around it to find some way to disable it. After about 10 minutes of looking, we noticed a large red button with the word "off" in big white letters. We assumed that this was the off button, so we pushed it and, sure enough, the machine shut off, and it began to slowly feel cooler. Just to make sure they never got it running again, we unplugged it, and used a magic marker to color the "on" button red. Leaving the town behind, we decided to head back to The SPU, as Agent 000 would probably be done his "mission" and would have a report to hand in. As these reports are usually either funny, or contain something that has to be disputed in court, we knew that it was something we had to read. Just before we left, though, we flew low over the compound and got a last look at the weather machine. Unfortunately, a B-2 stealth bomber has about 3 speed settings: stopped, Mach 2, and Mach 4. The sonic boom woke everyone up, and knocked over a garbage can in the middle of the street. We were safely out of range by the time most of the gun-enthusiasts had taken aim, though.

After we had been back for a few hours, Agent 000 came back with his report. Upon reading it, we discovered that he had disassembled a Zamboni machine, unplugged a restaurant coffee maker, taken the batteries out of fifteen thermometers, plugged the air conditioning vents in a Mazda Miata, that had it's doors unlocked, and blown up a major weather monitoring station (that's why the weather channel was off the air). We soon had everything fixed up, and when Agent 000 got to the part about the plumber's truck, we sent him on another mission. So, until next time, if you live in Antarctica and hate snow, either live inside, or move to Florida.