“Once upon a time there were three beautiful girls who went to the Police Academy, and they were each assigned very hazardous duties. But I took them away from all that and now they work for me. My name is Charlie.”

~Tuesday, Sept. 18th~

Charlie (via iPhone speaker): Good Morning, Angels.

Us (sing songy): Good Morning, Charlie!

Charlie: How are my trio of elite big wave riders—ready to unleash some sick surf moves?

Us: Sure are, Charlie!

Charlie: Good. I’m sending you on an undercover mission to renowned surf break, Pleasure Point, where you’ll infiltrate a ring of scumbag sea otters who are smuggling clam shells into the Point illegally. But here’s the thing, Angels. I need you to pretend that you are really, really crappy surfers. You know, just to throw the otters off your trail.

Us: We’ll try our best Charlie, but it’s going to be hard considering we’re such darn good surfers!

Charlie: Oh, and Angels?

Us: Yes, Charlie?

Charlie: Don’t decapitate the baby otters while you’re pretending to be super lame beginners!

Us: (giggling) We’ll try, Charlie.

Charlie: Perfect, Angels, you look like total kooks.

Charlie: Way to paddle like you don’t mean it, girls.

Charlie: I like the faux crashing into each other. Beautiful.

Charlie: Farrah, way to improvise & act like a sight-impaired/special needs surfer. No wonder you won an Emmy for “The Burning Bed.”

Us: Hands up, Otters. We got you!

Charlie: Great job, Angels. Another mission under your wetsuits.

Us: Thanks, Charlie!

Charlie: Ladies, look who showed up to serve you Mimosas in The Hook parking lot? BOSLEY!

Us: We love you, Bosley!

Charlie: Oh, and ladies, let’s leave the readers with one last pic—Because really, what’s Charlie’s Angels without a gratuitous nipple shot?