How My Black Ass Would Run The Spy Game… Sort Of

Let me explain to y’all how I know I’d be an alright spy or assassin. But first, a little backstory. Jordan Calhoun and I have this game we play where whenever we meet up we always try to get the drop on one another. This has evolved from a funny game among friends, to both of us taking it to levels where we are literally stalking one another just to fake kill each other (in public, mind you) with an imaginary gun, sword, laser… pretty much anything along with ignorant sound effects. So we’re at this Halloween dance party right, and Jordan is with his friend who invited us to the soiree, and he goes with her downstairs to walk her out. This counts as him leaving, meaning we have to meet back up… which means the game is on. Now, it’s pitch black in there (I guess this generation dances with the lights off), but I see Jordan come back up and lookin’ around. I’m thinking, “Oh, he must be looking for me, but little does he know… I’ve already found him.” Listen, I submerged myself into the sea of dancing folk and became one with the darkness. I crept up behind him, acting as if I am holding a shotgun. He doesn’t see me at all, and right as I am about to put the choppa to his back and yell the most ignorant gun sound effects (I was going with *BllllapBlllllllap*) to catch this mark… his friend walks back over to talk to him. I then realize they came back up because she forgot something. Now I’m a foot away from her but she doesn’t notice me. I’m in the blind spot of her per…