Chapter 13 - Coffee

   "Please, sit."

   He shrugged.

   "When I was a young man, I have the ideas. Of, what it will be like. To have the wife. I tell you, that what you saw? It was not what I had enough imagination, to see. And so. I will not be amused, with my wife, tonight."

   A little sigh.

   "I thought. Perhaps. That, if I did enough... winning? I might not have the, bear with the sore ass. I see older men, naturally. With my father. They have their wife, their girlfriend. It was nice to see. Beautiful women. Many fine trinkets. So pleasant, to see and to hear and to be around. I wanted this. And I have this, but? Not, tonight. Tonight? I have only coffee."

   We glanced around.

   "Oh. The coffee? It will come. I am here, the... business? It is over. Someone will send the coffee. And, do you wish anything? With the coffee. Perhaps, something in the coffee."

   Panic shrugged. I have an image in my mind. Of Panic starting to shrug all the time. Picking it up from this man.

   "Cream, sugar?"

   "Oh. That comes, with the coffee. I meant... the American phrase. The, night... cap?"

   "Oh. No thanks. Honey? You want..."

   I shook my head no.

   The Devil nodded.

   "You do not have many drinks."

   Panic looked out over the dark water.

   "If I have too many drinks? I might be the bear with the sore ass."

   "Eh? Some men, grow happy with their wine. And some? The bear. You. You, are the bear? With the wine. I have seen you. Beer, with the engine boys, the cards. You are happy when you have your drinks."

   Panic grinned politely.

   "Its like aspirin."

   "Eh?"

   "Drinks. Aspirin, is great for a headache. Its even good, to have one every day. Prevents heart attacks. But? Most people don't know, that aspirin can kill you."

   "Really?"

   Panic nodded.

   "American phrase here? Too much of the elixir, is a poison."

   "Elixir..."

   "Elixir, is a very old word, for medicine. Too much medicine, is a poison."

   "Ah. Thank you. I like that one. I will use that phrase. Very good. I do not know why, but when talking, pleasant talk, or business, with Americans? They love the American phrases. I can show a man, many things. The... numbers. The, plans. But? If I say one or two, American phrases? More paper. It is as if, they like the... phrase? And it means more to them, than the numbers, and the plans. But? While this starts out, just to be more effective, at the paper. I grow to like it, then love it. And now? I use my American phrases, even when there is no American in the talk. I... use the phrase? Then explain it, and... it now has the same effect, on the others."

   He's learned to be a salesman. The deal and the numbers have to be right, but? That nice zinger can be the make or break thing. Advertising, knows this. You have to have that cute hook, that zinger.

   "Ah. How can I make so many people, so happy? And I sometimes fail to make my own wife happy, not all the time. As a young man? It seems easy. As I get a few more years? Not always so easy."

   "Sorry the bananas didn't help."

   "Ah. I had, the... high hopes, for that. I mean, I did not shovel those sweet cherries into her. I even reminded her, in case she has forgotten. About the cherry bottom, as I say it. I am to mind my own business, she tells me. And as you can see. But. Not only did I not do this to her, and not only did I try to remind her. To help. The bananas? I thought, aha! Monsieur Panic is very clever. Here I come, that... little gift. To show, that I care. About her sore bottom. And? I get the bear, and the bear's sore, ass. Eh."

   A moment of silence.

   "You can say it. You are with a man who is French, remember."

   "I can say... what."

   The Devil chuckled.

   "My wife. She is, spoiled. In France? Many things are different. The beautiful wife, and she is spoiled? You must be a man that matters. That you can spoil her. To many men? The wife is... some, trinket. Like, I buy the big car, the big house? In that way. And if a man that has many things does not spoil his beautiful wife, if even just a little? They say, some other man, will. This? Is the... we call it, the long dance. You must spoil her, but not too much. A dance."

   He sighed.

   "Many men that matter? They say, you must..."

   He made a smacking motion in the air.

   "But I say, no. My grandfather. He did not, to my grandmother. My father? He did not, to my mother. And so, another little lesson. I do not do this. Or, what kind of man would I be. In France? The word is... gauche. It means, very rude. Very... what is this... lower, class? To hit the wife. The children. To kick that dog. My grandfather, teaches this to my father. My father, teaches it to me. And so, I taught this, to my two sons. And do you know how you teach this?"

   "Hmm."

   "A little gauche. But. My grandfather, my father. They laugh about this, when my father was a man. My father? He kicks the dog. It, took his baguette and his meat. Off his plate. He kicked the dog. My grandfather? He hit my father. And so? My father, learns the lesson quick. It was important, and my grandfather thought this lesson was very important. And one day, my mother was... being very spoiled. She hit my father. My father, went away. He would not hit her. My grandfather? He was very happy. I learned the same lesson, many years later. It was not the dog, it was now a cat. That, jumped up, and took my egg. I smacked my hand at it, I did not even catch it. I yelled, of course. And that was enough. My father? Eh, I learned a very quick lesson. Then, he explained to me. The why. It was not so much longer, that I understood. It was a good thing."

   "So you were raised to be a good man."

   "Yes. And I try. Before the coffee comes, we are alone. My grandfather. My father. Now me? My two sons learned the same lesson. It is... regrettable, but must be done. There is no other way. And you see. The man, that says you must hit the spoiled wife, the spoiled dog. They will say, you must... do? What it is you must do. Eh. This, is not what you must do, of course. To me? I see other men, that matter. Growing up. They, will tell me this thing. My father? No. You listen to me, you do not listen, to them. And so I do. And now? I am very happy, that I did. I am a little better, for this."

   He nodded.

   "And so. Sometimes? The quick lesson. Only when there is no other way. My father. Almost all of his lessons? Were, the long lessons. The slow lessons. For instance. My father? I slowly learned to act like him. As he learned slowly, off of my grandfather. How to act. What to say. When not to act, when not to say it. But? If you kick the dog, if you so much as try to hit the cat and yell? The quicker lesson. It is regrettable. But? Life is shit, and not all of life, can be the baguettes."

   He smiled and shrugged.

   "My, very spoiled wife. I wait. In a day or two or three? She will be fine. And? She will apologize, and will do many nice things for me. To... make up, for the bear with the sore, ass. The slow lesson, is best. And? No lesson, is even more powerful. To learn by... doing what they do. To learn, by the example."

   A little shake of the head.

   "The rest of the world? Has been trying, and for a very long time. To not be gauche. To try the example. With, some countries. That does not often work, and so they take to the long, slow lesson. That works a little more, but. In the end. If there is no other way."

   He shrugged.

   "The quick lesson. As I say. Life? Is shit. Not all of it, of course. Yet, the quick lesson? It is... the shit part. You must have the shit. And then? You clean yourself, and you go on. The rest of the day? Is much more pleasant. Just that little bit of... shit."

   He's getting somewhere. This is going somewhere.

   "Do I bore you?"

   "No. Please."

   "I thank you. Ah! The coffee."

   A pretty woman brought a tray. It looked like a big solid silver coffee pitcher. She showed him the cream and the sugar, by lifting the lids of those containers.

   "Ah. I thank you. Many times."

   She smiled politely, and turned to leave.

   "No, no. Come, sit. Have the coffee, if you want some, eh?"

   "If you're sure. I have things to do."

   "Not now you don't, now? You have only to drink some coffee. If you want. Please."

   He winked. She sat.

   "I do not know your name, mademoiselle. And you are..."

   "Betty."

   "Ah. American. You are very pretty, and your name? It is pretty as well. Your parents? They must have known you were going to be very pretty, to give you such a pretty name."

   She got up to serve us, and he smiled and waved his hand.

   "Sit, sit. I am not so spoiled, as some of these other men you see me with, Betty. I am a little spoiled, it is true. And I spoil myself, some. But now is not that time. Here."

   He poured her the coffee, asked if she wanted cream or sugar. Then saw to ours.

   "Betty. This? Is madame and monsieur Testavino. Betty is new. I must show her, that when it is not important? Enjoy."

   She was nervous, but began to beam slowly.

   "Ah. The other men. Some of them will not do this. When they are with me? They will do it. I can not give the... investors, the quick lesson, Monsieur Panic. I must use the slow lesson. And? Set this example. There is no need, to be gauche with the helpers. The guests, on the boat. They can treat each other, as they will. But? Not my help. No. Betty? I do not own you. Yet? If any guest places their hand on you, or... is, out of the line? You come to me, and quickly. I will not tolerate it. If a guest is too far out of the line? I will tell them. Very polite. It happens too many more times? I will say it rude. And, if I have to? If there is no other way, I will make the quick lesson."

   Panic looked at me, then to him.

   "And what would a quick lesson be, if an important guest was mean to Betty."

   "Ah. If you ask, you can hear of it. I seemed as if I would do nothing, but say it rude? No. We put in, on shore. Off they go. They, needed help with their trinkets, and luggage. And do not come back. I will find others. Because. Most men in my position? They will get another helper. Use them, as if... they are but a tissue. No. I will not lie. I did not grow up poor. Yes, we had helpers, in my father's house. But, just as I learned the quick lesson, with the cat coming for my plate. That was just a cat. What would my father do, if I tried that with the helpers. No. Our helpers? Sit and eat, with us. They eat, what we eat. And if they see something, in the kitchen, the pantry, they want. Have it."

   He chuckled.

   "Betty, you do not take coffee? I will get you something else."

   She finally sipped her coffee. She made a surprised face, then a bigger sip.

   He laughed. It was infectious. He's quite likable.

   "Ah. And I see? Betty is not so new as I thought. I am thinking, she knows about the coffee. And, now that you try it, Betty? I see it is very good, yes?"

   "Very."

   "You see, Betty knows. Betty, would you be so kind as to tell them, about the coffee?"

   "If, you want me to."

   "Please."

   Panic sniffed his, I looked at mine. What the hell. Everything on this boat was made to be luxurious. And this? Will be whatever coffee a multi-billionaire can get. I am guessing, it must be the best to be had. Betty was unsure.

   "Betty. It is fine. I assure you. I will not be offended. I am amused. I know this. And tell me. What do you, in the kitchen. What do you call the coffee. I know the name, they do not."

   "Well? Its... monkey coffee."

   He chuckled.

   "Yes. American phrase? My coffee, is sausage. They say, if you enjoy sausage. Do not learn where it comes from. And? This can go, one of two ways. If you like sausage? I do. Eh, the sausage is not fun to see it made. But, I remember how much I like it, a little piece on each baguette every morning. The other way. Poor Betty. She? Knows where the coffee comes from. But I am seeing, she is getting over that. Very quickly. And, it is not hard. When what is so good, might come from what might seem... distasteful."

   I looked off. Talking of sausage, and how its wonderful but you don't need to know how its made. That was exactly what my now long gone Wizzy, and his MP allies that came in, called justice. Sausage. They called being an MP, and involved with getting justice the only way you could? Well, they called it working in the sausage factory. Naturally, him using that common reference to sausage and how its made? I'm watching a few loops of Wiz play for my eyes only.

   Panic smiled.

   "Well?"

   "Ah. Betty. The, floor? Is yours. Tell them. What you must have heard, about the coffee."

   "I was told... its monkey poop."

   The Devil laughed.

   "And, is it monkey shit? No. But the truth. Coffee? No different, than any other thing. There is always something, that is decided to be the best. It could just be, that it is rare, and so very valuable. Or? It could truly be the best. And is valuable for that reason. I am not lying, when I tell you. Kings, that can have anything they want? This, is the coffee they will have. And why? Easy. It is the best."

   He sipped.

   "But? The truth. There is an island, very far away. Sumatra, Java, somewhere in that region. On this one island, is the only place where this particular coffee grows. And? It is also the only place, where a certain little tiny monkey lives. Why, I do not think anyone truly knows. Yet. These rare little monkeys? Will eat these coffee beans. And what you eat? Must be given back, another way, eh? And so, the monkeys drop shit."

   He sipped again.

   "And. The local people? Go through the monkey shit. They find the coffee beans. They wash them, they dry and care for them. And? If you made the coffee, out of the same beans. The normal way? It, is not particularly good. It is... bitter. But? After passing through the monkey's, bottom. As you can taste. It changes, very much. You do not need cream, or sugar. It is wonderful, even cold. You can use very little coffee, with a lot of water. Or? You can use way too much, and it is still wonderful. In truth, it is impossible. To fuck this coffee, in its ass."

   We all giggled.

   "It is the truth. It is amusing, yes? I tell you. I did not know this, about the coffee. The, monkeys and their bottoms. But? I simply asked. What is the very best. Suitable, for a big boat such as this. What coffee? Can I give important guests. And by every accounting? The monkey coffee. So? I get it. Now. Normally. When you have something rare and valuable, laying around. You need the lock. You need the key. I thought I needed some person, to be... the keeper of the keys. To the king's coffee. Not so. The helpers? They will sooner drink piss, than even try it. Betty, will now no doubt be teased, if she tells, that she... how do they say it, Betty."

   She blushed.

   "I kissed the monkey's ass."

   We all laughed. Eventually, Betty asked if we needed more. Then she left. He reminded her. Next time? When it wasn't important, to not embarrass him by making him ask. She was to sit, talk. Eat, drink.

   I'm actually, getting to be moderately impressed. The Devil? Seemed like a very fine fellow.

   Of course, that might well be the Devil's greatest power. If he walked around with a pitchfork and horns, he probably couldn't attract many followers that way. Betty, in fact? If I had to guess, she might not really mind if the Devil pinched her on the ass so much. By her little body language signs, I'm starting to think she would stick her ass out if he forgot to pinch her again.

   "Ah. And? Just like that, we are alone again. The adults, can go back to the adult talk."

   Panic cocked his head. Its a mild bug on a pin look for him.

   "Can I ask you, about the lessons?"

   "But of course. I want you to learn to be that little bit of polite rude. So the truth will come out. Go on, practice it. You might find that you like it."

   He sipped, and gestured. Go on, then.

   "People that don't matter so much."

   "Yes?"

   "Betty's one of them."

   "I suppose."

   "So, Betty's just another one of the children to you."

   "Mm. Yes. And what of it."

   "Why take so much care. To make her feel good, and think you care."

   "Oh. You think you, have what. Caught me in the lie. No, this is fine. I welcome these discussions. Please."

   "Well? She's not very important. She's doesn't really matter. Why go through all the trouble, of convincing her you really care."

   "Ah. I am a little bit rude. But, only enough to tell the truth. I do care. Very much. Here. I will show you. My... way of looking, at this thing. With your permission, of course. And the permission of the mademoiselle. In France? It was where women first had, some standing."

   "No, please. I find this... fascinating."

   "I ask you. Monsieur Panic."

   He pronounces it... "Pan-EEK". Like the snotty sales lady said "par-FOOM".

   You were once little. We all were. You had a father, a mother. Yes?"

   "Sure."

   "Ah. And tell me. Who, was the most important person, in your house you grew up in. Did, your parents come and ask you, for your permission? Did they ask you to, guide them. Maybe, but I am guessing, no."

   "I was a little boy."

   "Exactly. Your parents? Much more important, than you were. They mattered more. I am sure they loved you, but... is it so strange, to now realize? Back then, your parents were the important ones. And that you were, just along for the ride. When you were little."

   "Well, yes."

   "Ah. And if your parents had put you in charge. Say, for the mealtime. And, what would a little boy have decided the family would eat for lunch, or dinner. Peanut, butter. Or? Birthday, cake. Perhaps this is why they were in charge, and not you. I know adults, all grown up? That can not be trusted. With choosing what to eat, and how much of it."

   He sipped, and smiled.

   "My spoiled wife, and her sore cherry bottom, is a fine example of this, right now. Eh? I would like to tell her no, or maybe instruct the helpers? To lie to her, and tell her there are only so many sweet cherries. But? She insists. Perhaps there is a good reason, why I do not... burden my wife, with... business and the decisions. I would not mind, we could work together, but... what would I expect from this. I can tell you. A business deal, that... had a cherry bottom. Which, would be fine, except it might be very important."

   Panic said nothing.

   "My wife also? Will sometimes be rude. I do not mean the polite rude that I am, I mean very rude. I can not have her, telling some important business person? Some spoiled idea. Again. If it is important? Eh."

   He sipped.

   "I am only saying things, that everyone knows. These? Are not big secrets. I am rude, because I say them. But, it is so silly. Everyone, will know things. Take England. When I am there? We must all sit around this big table. The women with the men. And the women, they say this, they say that. No one? Will say a word. That, many of the things, are silly. Now. When the, spoiled little women are off and gone? The men. They make little jokes. I smile, I understand."

   He sipped, then shrugged.

   "I know. The French man, he is so rude. And why. Because I say it! We are all... pretending. We, are all playing, the make believe. As? I play with little children. Yes, you are a princess. Yes, you are a great knight. Yes, I know you have great, magical powers. With children? It is amusing. I enjoy it. The imagination, I applaud it. But, in adults? So silly. And I ask you. Am I wrong?"

   Panic shrugged. I opened my mouth.

   "Honey? Say it."

   Panic laughed.

   "My wife? Agrees with you. That women, can be silly."

   "Ah. Mademoiselle Testavino? I never find her silly. And mademoiselle? You, are welcome to sit and... discuss things. With the men, when we sit at the table, and discuss such things. I will tell you. One of the men, at the meeting we had. He asked. Why, is the wife or mistress there. Is that her place. I told him. She? Is not silly. Her husband? Values her opinion, and he is not a silly man. She is not, spoiled. I told him. I must convince her, as much as I must convince Monsieur Panic. That this is a wise investment."

   I was taken aback.

   "Well, thank you."

   "Ah. It is nothing. A purse? Holds money. They talk of, what. Purse, strings. If there are two purse strings? You each hold one. I have no complaint. It is your purse. If your husband, has come to value your opinion? That is your business. And, as long as nothing silly comes out of this? I told that man. You? Are free to inform Monsieur Panic, of this great error he commits. Ah. He smiled. I know that smile. This, might not be wise. Monsieur Panic, made a... polite show. The, pulling up. Many times. And? The women. Do some of the spoiled little women say a few things? They do. But, they say it where Mademoiselle can not hear it. And why. Because you saw the, fun game with the pulling up. And you? Did more than many of the men."

   He sipped.

   "You are both? I say, American cowboy. Very polite. But, like that quiet and polite cowboy in that movies I liked, as a child. Maybe? Very dangerous. Maybe? Only a little dangerous. It does not concern me. I am concerned with matters of business. It is what I seem to be good at. And do you think, that I never once had the business talking, with dangerous men before? I have. With very dangerous men. But? They were polite. I am always polite. How... dangerous? A man, or even a woman, may be? Not my concern. My father told me, when I was young. All little boys, will push, and shove, and say mean things. It leads to things. I was to learn, to not lower myself and do those things."

   "You don't think you're a dangerous man?"

   "Mm. I am not, what. Boxer, or... gunslinger. So in that way? No. I am only a little bit dangerous, in that way. Not so much. Maybe, only as dangerous, as... I am rude. That is to say. Only that little bit. Now. When I spoke of England, the women there? Were silly. They, play make believe. It is not only little women, that do this. Men? Some, are just as silly."

   He sipped.

   "And Monsieur Panic? I wish you to know. I do not mean you. Some others. I am sure you know, some men. Men, that have... many things. As I do. They, like to play the make believe. That they are, what. Dangerous. They have money and many things, and so it allows them to play the make believe game. The little boy, that is the dangerous knight? Because he has the table cloth, and a plastic sword. Amusing. In the child. But, a grown up man? Amusing, and even more than amusing, really. But, very silly. I would not be seen to be a silly man. And so? Why lie, why pretend and play the... make to believe."

   Another sip.

   "Ah. I have a man. He is not here, on this boat trip? There was some, error. He is on another boat. If, what. One of those, silly men. Wanted to put their hands on me, or take my, milk... money? That is what he is good at. Not me. American phrase. The plumber? Should be doing, the plumbing. Life can be shit, and when a piece of shit, needs the flush? He is my plumber. He will... plunge the, toilet. But, like taking the shit, it is but an unpleasant moment, and then? You clean up, and you go back to pleasant. And the shit? Goes to shore, and can find their own way home. No longer my concern. I am sure if he needed to know about, what. Money, papers, business. He would have me handle that. That, is my plumbing. If there is a, shit deal? I can plunge that, myself."

   A last sip.

   "Now. My wife, and her cherry bottom. Remember, my wife is a bear, with the sore ass. She will no doubt be, a little difficult. For a day or two, maybe three. Ignore her, as you would a spoiled child, eh? All I ask."

   We politely agreed.

   "So. Are we done talking of, how life is shit? No. The last thing. Before the coffee came, I was talking about... the quick lessons. And only when there was no other way, or? It was very important. There will almost certainly? Be... quick lessons needed. Early in the first phase of the investment. Africa? Is, not unlike a large... toilet. It is, quite simply? Shit."

   He raised his hands and lowered them.

   "There. I said it. Now, I am the rude French man again. But, do I lie? No. Liberia, and South Africa. Were once? The best that the whole continent, had to offer. The only two places, where you could expect to conduct business? In a civilized manner, that people like us, would understand."

   He sighed.

   "And for a long time now, someone got the... bright, idea? That South Africa can, handle its own affairs. It was once a beautiful place. They called it, Sun City. People from all around the world? Wanted to go there. The best musicians, dancers, artists. All, wanted to visit. And the people from there? They profited from this. The French? Have nothing against the black people. They had cities, and doctors and lawyers, and everything you would expect, from any first world country. And? The white farmers. The Dutch and others. Many French, too."

   He shrugged.

   "No one, was... having slaves. Whipping, and hanging black people. They built schools, and universities. Big hospitals. And? They asked for the white farmers to come. To being, modern agriculture. You can grow? Anything there. Coffee, bananas. Other food? Grows quick. Then? Kick out all the white people. Things, went back to shit. Quickly. Tribal warfare. And? They are now killing the white farmers. Bands of roving, assholes? Invade and slaughter, white farms. They kill the farmers, all the helpers. Even, the wife and the little children. It is unspeakable. And? We all must play, that silly game. Of let us all, make believe. That it is not going on. And it is. The world? Plugs its ears. The truth? Would... ruin, the fairy tale, that these people are as wonderful as us."

   He rolled his eyes.

   "They are not disgusting creatures, because they are black. No. There is no, racism. If rogue bands of whites, were killing black farmers? Slaughtering women and children. I would call them, disgusting creatures. But? I have to pretend, when I am in England, or other places. But, do not take my word for this. Here. I show you. This? Is one of their own leaders. Hear it from his own lips."

   He let us see and hear a video clip. The king himself, was saying it plain. This place? Is shit. With the white farmers gone, and the white people gone from the cities? Its worse than before the whites arrived. He wished he could get them back. The black farmers, were given the farms, of all the white farmers slaughtered. Now? They're close to starving.

   "And? You will never see it in your television. And why? We must all play, the make believe. The truth? Is not convenient. And so, it gets ignored. Liberia? Is the last hope, for the whole continent. If there is to be civilization."

   He shook his head, seeming sad.

   "Take your Puerto Rico. People think of it, as a country? It is American. It is all, but another American state. Now. I ask you. What would, your Uncle Sam do, if another country. Say, Cuba. Were to attack and try to take Puerto Rico. By force."

   Panic shrugged.

   "You'd have to deal with the American military."

   "Exactly. If a parent has a child, they must protect their little child. And how can a parent, love one child more than the other. Protect one? And, leave the other to be under attack, for years. It is unthinkable. But, these... unique, conditions. Your Uncle Sam? Is very happy. That someone wants to, defend them. Help them. Build the roads and bridges and hospitals. And? Do business with them. Pay them, what the energy and minerals, are worth."

   "Just as, Uncle Sam? Leads the North American continent. And protects it. This, is what we want. For Liberia. Now. If we thought, that... the missionaries, could handle this? We would send them. But, it is unfortunate. That we must send, what. Men, that are used to it. Plumbers, to do the plumbing. Men? Who can be counted upon. To, I will say it. Plunge, the shit. And, flush it."

   "This sounds..."

   He sighed, and shook his head. He patted Panic's hand, sitting next to him.

   "I know how it sounds. And believe me. If there was any other way? We would. But? Leaving the thing alone, has not worked. Setting the example? Does nothing. The long, gentle lessons? Have been tried, over and over. There is nothing left. But two choices. Go back, to leaving it alone. Which it will of course get worse, as it has been doing. Or? What do we have left. A short, valuable lesson. What, you Americans call, I think... the, what. The... object, lesson?"

   Panic just looked at him.

   "I know. It is regrettable, that this is the only way. But I ask you. You live next door. Say, to me and my family. You, have your family in your house. And? Disgusting creatures came in. They kill, your beautiful wife there. They kill, and actually eat? Your children. Cannibals. You sit there? And I ask you. What? Would, you, do."

   "Anything I could."

   "And if you called me. Come! Help! Would you want me to come and help you? I think you would. And what would we be doing. What, would we have to do. I want to hear this, from your own lips."

   "You don't have to say it. I can see it on your face. Yes, the French man is rude. Why? Because, he says it. What we all know, what everyone knows is true. No more make believe. Your wife, your children. Your elderly and your friends. Killed. Tortured alive. Eaten for dinner. By cannibals. I would call them animals? No. They are the most vile, the most disgusting creatures. They, are shit. Now. The shit? Needs flushed. You, call me for help. Help me, flush this shit."

   He shrugged.

   "What. If we can not do this? We call the plumbers. They bring the best plungers. It is time? For the shit, to go away. Down, down, down... the drain. Bye bye."

   He raised his hands, with a frozen shrug.

   "You are clever. Is there another solution? If you think of one, please. I will entertain, any other idea. A long time ago, I... was in a similar situation."

   He sighed.

   "It was... very bad. I could not sleep. I was drinking. I did not hit my wife, or my two young boys? But, I was... not pleasant to be around. I was drinking too much. I ask my father. This? What, the hell. He sends me, to my grandfather. He? Was, when he was a young man. In the, French Foreign Legion. These men, are very dangerous. They are, your American seals? Like them."

   He ran his fingers through his hair. He looked genuinely shaken a little, thinking of it.

   "Ah. He had friends, that were in the Legion with him. These men? Are all very close. Like brothers. He called one of them. His friend, had a son in the Legion. He wanted to do what his father did. He wanted to make his father proud. And when he was done in the Legion? He goes, and he finds a job. Doing what he did in the Legion? For a private company."

   A big shrug.

   "I get a phone number. A name. Here. Call, this place. Tell them, who your grandfather is. Who his friend is, who the son is. They can handle this. It will be? As if you have the French Foreign Legion, handling your problem. Men who can, American phrase here? Speak, the language."

   Panic was quiet, but he kept his neutral face on.

   "And did they speak the language?"

   "They did. Unfortunately, and most regrettably... the language? Was shit. But? We were committed. We were, not completely prepared, for what came next. But? It comes."

   "How did it go?"

   "Hmm. American, email joke. It was like, mating the elephants. It takes a long time. Everything? Must be done at a high level. Nothing accomplished, but only with a lot of roaring, trumpeting, and snorting. The earth shakes. But, in the end? You get your, baby elephant. A very valuable and rare thing, that you wanted and needed."

   "What was it you were after?"

   "The usual. Resources. You see? My investment group. I had, a couple billion dollars. I attracted, other men like me. We go in. We negotiated, with the government. Who wanted money. They had, a lot of energy. Coal. And gas and oil, but the coal was the main thing. We spent, a very lot of money. To get the rights. To? All of it. We were overjoyed. Then? Shit."

   "Shit?"

   "I was little. I take a shit? I flush the toilet. The shit goes down. But one day? I flushed. The shit? It did not go down. It, overflowed. My shit? Ran out, and hit my feet. I ran to my father. He called a plumber. He handled that. This? No different. But? Much bigger. A lot of shit, all over."

   "How did things go."

   "Well, at first. Like other times. You buy the rights, to what you need. Then? You go and get it. It is yours. But? Other people, were fighting us. They, killed the men, they destroyed the equipment. We went to the government, of course. Who had no problems taking all of the money, you can believe that. But, this shit. All over our feet. We had forgotten, we were dealing with the politics. They take money, but solutions? Ah. We sold you what you wanted. You deal with it. If we could deal with it? We would have. Now, we have no choice."

   "Who did you hire."

   He sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair.

   "Assholes. I thought, we all thought. The son, of a French Foreign Legion hero. Himself, another Legion hero. This, will be a brave man, with honor, yes? But, no. Oh, they sent men in suits. Men, that spoke our language. Money, paper, business meetings. A price, was arranged. And so much, for so much. American phrase, I have so many. Here? We basically had to give, a... blank, check? We were, up against it. Then? The men, to handle this shit. They were shit. It took a very long time, and it was the most horrible thing."

   "You got your coal, though."

   "After the elephants, had mated many times? And destroyed many things, rolling around mating. Yes, we got the baby elephant."

   "All that just for some coal?"

   "Mm. I can understand, some stupid black rocks, that can burn? Does not seem like a precious thing. But? If you want to be just a little bit more bored, I can tell you that part."

   "Please."

   "You go back. In the time. France? Was once a beautiful and wonderful thing. We were once the center, of science. Industry. Military power. But? It goes, over time. Now. French industry? Steel, is very important. And, you need some things. You need coal, you need iron ore. And if you have the brains, that god gave to little piss ants? You put the steel mills, smack in the middle of it. Because. Transportation? Is expensive."

   "Okay."

   "Eastern France? It is a place, called... Alsace-Lorraine. Sounds like a beautiful woman, of pleasure. The perfect coal, for steel. Good iron ore. It was, the French industry. Well. World war two. The Germans? They invade. They take, Alsace-Lorraine. Our, beautiful woman of industry. It is French clay. And, when the war was over? We get it back."

   "Lots of coal."

   "Tons. Tons, of tons. But? There is no such thing, as all the coal in the world. After a certain time, this perfect coal, it runs out. When you have the rich iron ore? But no coal. You are fucked, in your ass. If you go back to this time, you will see it was when the French economy, started shitting its pants. The politics, promise all these things, to everyone. Now? With no industry, well. My country? Is going to go to shit. Which is, down the drain."

   "France wanted coal."

   "To want, is one thing. To need? Is another. Where, will the coal come from. All the coal around? They keep it for themselves. They will sell it? But the price. Now? My entire country, is about to get fucked in the ass. The politics, they come. Screaming, for coal. As a big investor, with experiences in these matters? Here, comes my politics. To me. I am, flattered. Will I not at least try, to save my country."

   Panic nodded. I know, that he knows this speech all too well.

   "Well? I told them. I am one man! What in the hell, are you thinking. Politics, though. First one, then two, then more. They put together, more men like me. One day? We have enough. I get, what. Elected, to lead them. I have the most money, the most experience. My grandfather? My father. Oh. So proud. That? Is my son. Look, he is going out, to save France."

   "Hero."

   "Eh. What, is a hero. I ask you. He is a man, that gets into something, it is bigger than he thought. Then? He somehow manages to finally win."

   He started counting off on his fingers.

   "We go out, we fan out. We first? Find that much coal. And more, when we found it. No one else wanted it. The rights? Were for sale. The price? Was very right. We first, make a little operation. You need to see how much time and money and trouble, this much takes. Test the coal. Then? You can know what you are doing. Along comes... what. Shit. We have no more answer from the place. We send men to see. Everything. The workers? All dead. The equipment? All destroyed. And the politics in this place? Ah, it is your problem now."

   "That's how you got into this mess."

   "Sadly, but yes. We can not back out. The entire French economy? Is depending on us. And we are here, looking at it! More than we needed, more than we could ever want. We have no choice. And, as if that was not bad enough. One of the investors sent? From a little tiny country. He? Invested his entire country's treasury, just about. In this. Now? We have two countries. Depending on us. In this desperate time, we in our great need? Turned to men, that we did not fully understand. And? Then, the real shit started running out. As you might say? It got a lot worse, before it got a little better. It took? Years."

   "But? You won."

   "Eh. Yes. I suppose. If, getting it done. If getting what you needed. If you are the, last man, to be standing? Then yes, you can say we... win this. But? I did not feel like much of a... winner. I felt like? Shit."

   "But, you were a hero."

   "To the French politics? Yes. To the French economy, to the industrial leaders? Yes. To the little country, that had emptied the national treasury? Very much yes. Even to the politics where this all happened. They, had resources, they could not sell."

   "Because?"

   "This country. Was really two countries. Two people. The politics, and the cities and towns. They were like us. Civilized. But? They had people that were not. People that lived in the jungle, on the plains. We did not know, but that politics? Wanted those people? Off the resources. They did not understand any of this. To them? The, what. Their, gods had given them this land. We tried, to give them anything they wanted. Tell us. You want buildings? Water wells? Machines, for agriculture? We will send you, farmers to get you going. But no. And so, in the end? As I said, life is shit."

   "At least it ended."

   "When the elephants were done mating, yes. I got better, slowly. I was pleasant to be around again. The French president? On the TV. Shaking my hand, giving me the great medal. I led the men, that saved two countries. Eh. And yes, of course the money was... phenomenal. And the investors? The same. There was now new investments, and no shit to have running out about it. The, dance? The conga. There was a... conga, line? Of the biggest ships. Flying the French flag. Taking all this coal, to France. Investors who were forward thinking, had bought the stock in the French steel mills, and of course, you can imagine how they went."

   "Good times."

   "Hmm. So it would seem. I am, as you say, this, what. Hero. My mistress, came to me then. A young and beautiful, French actress. Is she the biggest and greatest actor, ever? No. But? Not such a bad thing. And? Me, and the men that pulled this shit out, of our French asses? We are now, the Global Energy Investment Group."

   "And this is how you became so successful."

   "The short answer? Yes."

   "And the long answer?"

   "Mm. If you define, success. As how much money you have. And, by how beautiful and spoiled your wife is. By how handsome and successful, your sons are. I have no daughters, I make only boys, it would seem. My sons? One, is in the, big shipping. Large boats. To carry things, not people. My son owns and runs a fleet of these. The, largest cargo ships? Are called, Panamax. That, is the largest ship that barely fits, in the... dams, that you go through the Panama Canal. Larger cargo ships exist, but... they are only oil tankers. The largest of which? Will never see a port in their life after they set sail for the first time. They are too big. They sit far off, and smaller tankers, come, and load or unload them. And the other son? The same, but on land. Trains, and trucks, and barges for rivers and canals."

   "Success."

   "Hmm. If all that, is all there is to success? Then yes. But. Why must I feel like shit. Not all days. Just once in the while. Did, you never accomplish some great thing, but, you regret it?"

   "Once. A long time ago. Yeah."

   I can see the little movie in Panic's head.

   "And, there you are. Maybe, then you understand, that life is shit. You, we can make you French now. You understand this, eh?"

   Panic shrugged and nodded.

   "To me? The shit feeling. It comes, from two things. First, from... all the shit, that had to be suffered. To do this thing. To me, that was bad enough."

   "And the other thing?"

   "Ah. My French politics. I did not know, my precious country... was being led? By imbeciles. I know this now. I some nights, when I can not sleep for a little while? I walk around. Was my country, even worth all that shit? Was it worth saving. Then, I feel like more shit. For thinking, that."

   "I've been there."

   "Mm. I ask you. Monsieur Panic. For your permission. That I might ask your wife, I want to hear the mademoiselle. Her view on this. I am willing to bet, she has the firmer grasp, of such obvious things. And may I?"

   "I appreciate you being polite, but... I can neither make her answer you? Nor prevent her."

   "Will mademoiselle indulge me this?"

   I smiled.

   "Sure."

   "You have this precious resource, that you need. You run out of it. Finally. After all the blood, sweat, and tears. Someone gives you, a huge pile of this precious resource. I ask you. What would mademoiselle do with it."

   "Use it wisely. Only use it when you really need it."

   "Yes! Exactly! You would ask, who would be so stupid, as to not do this very thing. And? Especially, when they knew what it was like to do without it! And were facing ruin!"

   I shrugged.

   "You would think."

   "Ah. The simpletons, the French politics. Me and my group, we have found and brought back, for France, the beautiful Alsace-Lorraine. She is home, once again. Treasure her, no? And for a little while, yes. Then. My son, sends me email. Father. Why is a ship full of that blood coal. Ah. I named it blood coal. For that? Is what it cost, to get it. Father, why is the blood coal, a whole ship of mine. Headed to this other country. What, the hell is this shit. All you tell me, is of all the shit to get it."

   I was surprised.

   "What?!?!"

   "Oh, yes. Am I not the man, that was on the television, getting the medal? I went right to the French president. What in the hell, are you doing. Do you know, how many people died? To get you, this damn coal. Oh, he says. See, China will pay this much and this much more for it. We have so much, it will pay for many things. I ask him. What things."

   Panic hung his head.

   "Oh. We have to have open borders. We must have more foreign people, you can't have too many white French people. That is bad. Well, that is all well and good. But, these people? They need taken care of! Food, medical. Many of them are criminals, and even the terrorist. At least, if you think you must? Bring in, what. Doctors, lawyers. Scientists. Or, hard workers. Honest, simple people? No. They are, the American phrase. Scraping at the bottom, of that barrel. These people? Are most of them? Shit."

   Hell's bells, he'll get no argument from me or Panic on that count. He's preaching to the choir.

   "Oh. I was, more than furious. It is not his name? But, you take a man's name, and use another word, that is close. To let him know, you think he is a complete fool. I call him? Macaroni. Because, that is all that is between his ears. And? I am no longer, the hero. I am no longer, popular. To get me in my back? He tells the people, demanding more things, giving nothing in return. Him! He, is why we can not give you more. So? It is not enough that some nights, I can not sleep and walk around a little. Now? I must be treated like shit. After all that was gone through, to get that damn Alsace-Lorraine back, where she belonged? He... gives it away! To, pay for this stupid shit."

   He paused.

   "He is not even French. I? Am French. My father, French. My grandfather? Also French. All the way back. And we marry? French women. All of us did. This man? He is as French, as... go, and catch a fish, over the side. That fish? Will be more French, than he is. His is nothing, but some rich Jew. Which? Is a fine thing, but. Doing this thing? Foolish, would be an improvement. And where does he get these stupid ideas. From, the old bitch, who it seems actually runs all of Europe! That old hag, that horse faced bitch, that ran Germany. Her. Another? Rich Jew. She, is fucking Germany harder than he is fucking France. And? All of them, are being told what they must do? By the European Union. You do not run your own country! Those fools? Sit and run all of the countries now. I mean, at least we elected our moron. And Germany? Their stupid bitch. But, this so called union? I ask you. Who elected them. Who appoints them. And? Who do they answer to."

   We shook our heads with him.

   "And so. We all decided. We had a big meeting. Every one of us. We will all? Leave France. We told Macaroni. You? Will now stop this. I was sent, to deliver the message. This meeting? As you can guess, it went, not well at all."

   He wasn't livid mad. He was cool and calm about it. This, is a man that can keep his cool and manage the unmanageable. I guess, this is the bigger version of my Uncle Mike.

   "And so? Here we are. Today. Me? And my group I lead. We? Are in a way, the French economy. And the French economy, has left. Well. I tell you. They? Have picked a fight, with the wrong French men. Oh. The, final chapter. Do you know what these assholes did? They should be in jail. First? All the blood coal, we got for them. They whore it out, to China. My beautiful Alsace-Lorraine? Where is she, eh? They have her, sucking the Chinese cock. Not something, I can forgive. Ever. But they were not done."

   Panic giggled.

   "Are you sure you want to come to America? Morons in politics, aren't exactly in short supply. About half the country? Has its head up its ass."

   "Yes, but we can discuss that, the other time. We must save something, for the next time we kiss the monkey's bottom, eh?"

   He picked up his empty coffee cup.

   "This plan? Is years in the making. All planned, very carefully. China? When the economy was still going boom there. They, thought they could just tip toe into Africa? Oh, load up on things. Well. They found out, it is not so easy as that. A sick joke? The Africans, like to eat Chinese food. These people, kicked out the British, The French, The Dutch, and others. African warfare, as I said. It is, basic? But, very brutal. Now. The Chinese? Had as big a problem there, as anyone ever had. But, they had a new one. Me. And my group. We have resources, and we have experience in these matters."

   "How did you fuck the Chinese?"

   "How did I fuck them? American phrase. Balls, deep. Ha! You want to make my precious and beautiful Alsace-Lorraine, pay to use her like a whore? Here comes my cock. The last time, all that shit? We had hired assholes. We needed, first and for the most? Professionals. While all the shit I described, was going on? The very same country, which sold us the coal, then left us fucked with the huge problem, and would not help? Used us, to both take our money, and get us to do their... dirty, shitty work for them. Eh. We had run into something that was new. The, private military."

   Oh, Jesus H. Christ on a Popsicle stick.

   "Really. And what was that like."

   "You can not imagine this new, storm of shit. There is already, a huge mess. What to do, but to make more of a mess. In your American, baseball. At the end of all the games, after the season ends. You, have your... all star game, yes?"

   "Okay."

   "Like that. The, United States military? Put together, some... all star team. Well funded. Very experienced. These? Were professionals. Very, very good. We went to the French government. Why are, the assholes we had to hire? Why are they getting, their.. asses, kicked. By these professionals. Why is the American politics, fucking us. Ah. The French government is told. That, is not our military. That? Is some, private company. Off our shores. We? Can do nothing. Here, my ass is fucked, one more time. But? I am used to it by now. Like any rape in your ass? If you wait long enough, the fucking, ends."

   We were giggling, despite the gravity of the occasion.

   "It took us, a long time to come up with some strategy. We have to deal, with this new shit. Ah. One of my men? Said it first. This, is a private company? Then, it is being paid for. Somewhere, there is a person, writing the checks. This company, must be paid. And, with how good they were? I am sure, they were not cheap. And so, that became the strategy. We have money, and time. We have a lot? Of both. We decided. Lubricate our assholes? And let them... fuck away. It is not the best strategy, to simply wait and keep throwing money, at the problem. But? A poor strategy, is much better than no strategy."

   We both shook our heads.

   "And yes. It took several years, but? Finally. Someone's patience, came to an end. Also? We think the... check, book. Ran dry. Ah. Finally. Now, we can wash the blood off of the coal, and... finally get, what we paid for. It, was a... nightmare. But, like all nightmares? It will end."

   "And, the Chinese situation?"

   "Yes, yes. China. They? Were trying to go to all the countries. Around? Liberia. Mainly, from the west. But also, from the other directions. I think, the strategy? Was to wear them down. Over time. We? Were prepared. As I say, we have a lot of money, and time. We? Funded a private military. It, is an... all, star, team of professional... cowboys. But? While they are experienced, they need to get used to? Africa. We are patient. We gave them? A... blank, check. When the Chinese hit Liberia? We hit one of their other countries. The Chinese come there? They get hit in another country. No end to it. The Chinese? They... blinked. Their economy did not boom as great, and, they found out they were up against more than the usual African simple but brutal warfare."

   Panic shook his head.

   "I know. What to do, though. This, is the Vagner group. Over the time of this, they became very fluent, in... speaking the language, so to say. The Chinese. Ran out of money, and patience. We? Have both. The Liberians? Are very happy, to get the help. That their Uncle Sam? Will not provide. Also, Uncle Sam is very happy. And? After... fucking, the Chinese? Balls, deep. That? Was just, a... warming, up? The main performance, is coming."

   "I'm afraid to ask."

   "Do not be. I am not, a dangerous man. Not that way. You see? This is not a... military fight. Not really. This? Is an economic fight. You fuck us like you did. It is fine. But? Get ready. This time, I am going to do the fucking. American phrase, now. All, the ducks? Are in the row. Me, my group. We? Hold... all, the cards. We piss on France now. You want this? Enjoy it. Liberia? Has more coal, never touched. We are, now in bed. With the big Uncle Sam."

   He cleared his throat.

   "You see. The president? Not this one. He, is but some senile old fool. And everyone knows it. The last one. He just won, his second term again. Now. The United States, was once, what. The... steel, capitol? Of the world. For many years. Your, Pittsburgh and all around it. And now. All that rich iron ore, there is still so much of it. It also had the... Pittsburgh seam. Some of the finest steel making coal? In the world. Well, it ran out, no?"

   He chuckled.

   "Does this, situation? Sound... familiar. And, what is needed. Answer. Coal. And? It, is, coming. We, are going to make a... conga, line? To the east coast, which is very near to Pittsburgh. All the railroads, all those highways. All those, people that want to go back to work. There will be so much coal coming in? We are going to drop the price back with it. We will, dump the market. And? I have a promise. No selling it. What is not used? Will be saved. We? Are going to give, Uncle Sam? Alsace-Lorraine. As, it once had. We have investors? Lining, up. To build the large metal buildings, that will be the steel mills. All, those, little, towns. That have gone to, shit. When the coal ran out, and the steel mills closed."

   He nodded, quite pleased.

   "It will be, 1950? All over again. All those steel mills. But, it is so much more. All those railroads? Not being hardly used. They are still there. The coal? Will run. No stopping, from Philadelphia? To Pittsburgh. Also. The trucking industry? All that steel, shipping out. Ah. Remember, your Detroit? Cars. Engine blocks. There is also oil. It will go nowhere, but to the United States. Part of the whole deal. Your price, at your, gas pump? Lower."

   "France, will take this with a smile."

   "Ha. And what will Macaroni, even try to do. He, has fucked your president, twice now. With what military, will France threaten him with. Piss ants, to the Americans. All of Europe? Pisses on America, and expects them to... foot, the bill? To protect them. Did you know, that France, has refused to pay their little share of NATO money? Mm. And, I ask you. With what economy, will France use. It is gone. You are sitting, drinking this expensive monkey coffee, with the head of the French economy. We all left. You see. When you, piss on the men that that can open big factories, and all manner of these things? We will go, where we will be kissed on, instead of pissed on."

   "Aren't you afraid? Someone, might..."

   "What. Try to kill me? Ha. It will do, no good. There are so many of us. We command? Trillions of dollars, all told. As I said, and I did not brag without truth. We are the French economy. But, no longer. And? There are more of us, every day. Men, like yourself. My suggestion? To buy, and discount and sell on, the paper. Simply creates more of us. And? That, is an economic army. How do you even fight that. Killing me? Accomplishes, nothing. It would just, piss off the rest of my group."

   "This, is big."

   "Huge. And, it cannot be stopped. There is, no enemy to attack."

   He yawned and stretched.

   "I know. I am the, bear with the sore, ass. Me, my men. We do everything, for everyone. And we get pissed upon, and fucked. Well, that is all over. Soon. You know. I had many years, to sit and think. Where did that cock, in our ass? Even come from. Who, had the most to gain? By writing, those checks. To, the all star, cowboys."

   "You think you know?"

   He nodded. yes.

   "The poor country. With that coal. That, they could not sell. Here I come, looking to get my precious Alsace-Lorraine, back. They? Wanted those people, on top of that blood coal? Gone. Not me. I am not, some monster. I? Simply wanted, to buy the rights to some, what. Coal. Is that wrong? No. Was I breaking any law? No. Now, these people. They, lived in, grass and mud, huts. Which? Is fine. It is your country, your land. Live, however your little heart desires. I only want? What I paid for. Okay, you have villages, and mud huts, over what is mine."

   "What did you want to do."

   "Help them! Give, to them. Say, that you live in a mud and grass, little hut. Along a man comes. Hey. I need to dig. That? Is all. No guns. No bombs. All I need? Is for you to move the village. For, maybe a year. I? Offered. Every mud and grass hut, that I have to move? I will build you real homes! Cost? Nothing. If you are living, in a grass and mud hut? How can you complain, when a man wants to give you a real building. Here, take it. Food, water? Done. I would give them phones, and free internet. You want something different? Just tell me. All of France, needs this. We will give you, the... blank, check. Name it, it is yours."

   "Very generous."

   "And France. They love foreigners. Would any of you, like to live in a first world country? We will take you. If they had asked, for pretty... hookers, and beer? They would have it. And, when I am done. You can move back, build another grass and mud hut. Or? Keep the better buildings. And so, I ask myself. Over, and over. Who, fucked this all in the ass. Eh?"

   "You come up with a suspect?"

   He nodded.

   "Yes. That country? Wanted all that money. Which we gave them. But. The, politics. Comes from the cities, and the towns. They? Wanted those, grass and mud hut people? Gone. No one else? Would benefit. And so. They took our money. Then? Riled the people up. I think, the plan? Was to of course get the money. Because they could not sell the coal, because of the people on top of it, who do not understand. I think, I was to become, disheartened? And leave."

   "Really."

   "Mm. If I fight those people, I am doing the work for the politics there. They? Win. And if I leave, they still have my money, and? They still have the coal. Whether I win or lose, that politics there, is the only one who benefits. So. For those poor people in those huts. Their own government, was fucking them. And? What kind of a world, do we even live in now. Where, you can't just buy what you want. Imagine. You go to the store? I want that. The thing? There. Will you sell it to me? Yes. And, how much. Okay. Here, is the money. Now, when you go to pick up your thing, that you now own? You must bring men with guns with you, and have to fight your way out of the store!"

   "The world, has gone mad."

   "Mm. Yes. You do understand. Ah. This is, last thing. The imbecile, who was running France. Macaroni. He is a criminal. I will explain. The stock, market? You can simply buy and sell stock. Or, you can... bet. You can bet a stock will go up? Or, you can bet it will go down. He, and his men behind him? All of them, invested heavy. The large bet? Was that the steel industry in France, would go down. Now. They send the coal to China. For the more money, to pay for the open borders costs. But. When they had pissed all that coal away, selling it? The steel stocks. Down the drain. Bye, bye. And? They all made out, hands over greedy fists. Also. They wanted to raise the price of the blood coal. Why? Simple. To get more money off the Chinese."

   Panic was mildly flabbergasted.

   "That's... illegal as hell. The people making those decisions, can't own or bet on stocks and coal commodities!"

   "Ah. Illegal? Yes. Very. But... is murder even illegal, if no one will charge them? And so. I was furious. I went, to everyone I could think of. Charge these criminals! They are flushing the country, down the toilet? And, making money off it, betting on it to lose, as they pull the handle to flush."

   "You had proof?"

   "Easy. Maybe, a long time ago? You might have to... what. Tip toes in, at night? Photograph, the papers with the special camera? Not today. Large trades and bets, are public. Oh, this is not enough proof, you have. Not enough proof? It is in, the black and white! On the paper, on the computer screen. Look! Oh, these things happen."

   "You couldn't go to anyone else?"

   "It quickly became obvious. The, people that would be the ones to charge them? Were making the same bets. What, will they charge themselves, put themselves in jail? Not likely. American phrase, here. I go, what. Over, the heads? I went to Interpol. Oh, the European Union, they would have to authorize that. Interpol, is now bitch to that union. I went to the European Union. Oh. We will look into that, we take that very seriously."

   "And?"

   "Oh. They give it, to the committee, that will handle that. And, who runs that committee? Is chair, person. Running the committee. Horse faced bitch, fucking Germany. Same bitch, always seen on the television, with Macaroni. While no person was watching? Quietly. Tip, toe, tip, toe. Many years ago, a long time. Oh, we should have European Union. Oh, fine. They will, what. Regulate a few things, between countries. Settle some little squabbles, between countries. Before bothering the United Nations."

   Panic nodded.

   "That is how it started out."

   "To start? Yes. Meetings, but... no real power. Then. All set up now. Tip, toe, tip, toe. Into this country. Tip, toe, into that country. Still? Not much. Just, some meetings, and some... American? Red, tape. But. Now? Stage is set. Once everything is in place? Like someone flipped light switch, on. No one noticed. Who was in charge, of what? Rearranged, quietly. Flip the switch? All these countries, in the union. You elect your leaders, but, the union tells them, what they will and will not do. Then, it seems like overnight. You wake up one day? Shit, and everywhere."

   "No one can do anything?"

   "If you vote out of the union. As countries try to do, every once in a little while. The union, controls all the other countries. And so? They... strangle you, with economic problems. England? Voted out. Was called, Brexit. British, exit. I applauded. Yes, finally. And then what. Nothing! What was vote, even for! Years later, after meetings and talking. Oh, we need to vote on that again. But? Union strangled Great Britain. So? When vote came up again... here they come. We will fix this, and that. But? Only we can do this, if you stay in. So? Vote failed, second time."

   Panic shook his head.

   "You see? Vote, only counts. If it goes the way it is supposed to go. It reminds me of, Chicago? The gangsters. But, all over Europe. And not with violence. With, working in secret, behind the doors that are closed."

   He paused.

   "All, these, things. I sometimes, feel like shit. I can tell you. I sometimes, can not sleep well. I am tired, exhausted. I close my eyes? A couple hours. Up and tip, toe around the ship. Or? I can't get to sleep, and, I get a couple hours before morning. And, if I do sleep for a while? Even then. I wake up, and an hour or two up, then I get the second time asleep. It, wears you out. It? Is all, so tiresome."

   He shook his head.

   "You know? Men said, this things, they were coming. We all laughed. They sounded like, paranoid and crazy men. Well? It has all come to pass, and even worse."

   Panic shook his head.

   "No one can stand up, to all this."

   "Eh. I make, sick joke. The last time, someone had enough, of all this kind of shit? It was, in the 1940's. A short man, with a funny mustache? He riled his whole country up, and... that was world war two. But, my sick joke. He had, one or two... good ideas. What to do, about it."

   We just looked at one another, then back to him. We said nothing.

   "As I said. Was, just sick joke."

   We continued looking at him.

   "Yes, the rude French man? Oh, he said that. It is not, as if no one has ever heard me say it. In fact, I spoke of the meeting with, my Macaroni? As I say, that meeting? It, did not go well. I say that? To his face. He looked at me. What did you say? I repeated myself. Very, slowly. And? That was, the end of the meeting. Well, just after that, was the end. And when I say, I was thrown out? I do not mean, asked to leave. I was dragged out, kicking and screaming."

   "You, can't just... say things like that."

   "Oh? As it turns out, it seems that you can. And, before you go thinking, some things? You should have heard some of the things he was saying. About, white French people. Now, I know. It is no different, than two little boys. We were arguing, and, some things got said. And so? Like little boys, having a tiff. He said it first."

   We both chuckled.

   "Ah. Want to play a game?"

   We both said okay.

   "Ah. Fun game. I? Will say something, and it will be the ravings, of a, what. The, deranged French man. Who, is most obviously. Off his rails, off the rocker. Then? I will prove it. Beyond shadow of the doubts. Will be fun, yes?"

   We agreed.

   "Okay. Crazy man talking, I know this. And? I take no offense. I understand, you are taught to say this. Is, not your fault. And so. I will say... what. Ah. Your country. Your United States? Is run and controlled, by these people. Now. When a man say this, he is, what. Obviously, not to taken seriously. He is, a silly man. Not to be trusted, with decisions. Everyone knows this."

   We waited.

   "Are we playing game? Here."

   He had a tablet on a shelf.

   "And so, we go to, online encyclopedia. Information? Is not secret, not hidden. Here. I type... I want, list of American senators and congress man. Look, here is list... These, are people you last elected. Look it it?"

   We glanced at it.

   "And so. We will play the game. Move up, and down, that list. At random? You pick out name. Any name. I say? Mm. At least 8 out of 10? Will be as I say. Black and brown people? Obviously do not count. But, there are very few. Go on. Choose one. Close the eyes, any way you wish."

   I looked away? And just tapped a finger, blind. All names, were links. You touch a name? It takes you to the online encyclopedia's page for that person.

   "Ah. See here. On right. Little box? Born, parent's names. Oh, my. They say what nationality you are. And? The parents, as well. Look."

   He shoved the tablet over, gloating.

   "Go on. Go down the list yourself? Or, pick at random. All the same."

   We actually had trouble, finding one that was not, shall we say, in his favor. He chuckled.

   "I would bet you? But, is not fair. I win this game. Every time. But? Maybe, I am just very lucky French man. Perhaps, I should play the stock, market. With such luck? But, I think not. But, I let you try again. I will make, another, crazy man statement. Eh? And so. These people? Control the media. They run practically... every television station. Every news outlet. Every big newspaper, every important magazine. I mean, this, is what crazy people, sound like. No? Click, click, and... click."

   We did not wait long.

   "I type, I want list of CEO, of major American television stations. Here? You will have trouble, finding... so much as one, single, CEO... who is not winning my game for me. But, go on. Do your own. Go one at a time, at random? For television, it is funny."

   We did pick several. First at random, then several in a row. I furrowed my brow. Every, single, time. It was, uncanny.

   He was chuckling.

   "No one, ever played this game with you, I can tell. When I am in England, and I say this? Oh, the tongue lashing, my ears get. By? All, the silly little women, around the table. And once again, when the women are gone? The men, make little jokes and smiles. But? You look around, and whisper it. No one can hear you say it."

   "Maybe, the crazy French man, is just so lucky. It could be. I am to assume, we are still playing this fun little game. Next crazy thing I say? Oh. Your... American Hollywood? The same. I type, I want list, of... big, famous, Hollywood, directors. And? Here is encyclopedia list."

   We had trouble, finding one name, that was not him winning his game. If we were keeping score? He's thrashing us, like 99 to 1.

   "And, we can do this, all night, until the sun comes up. All through the day, and? Not quit, until... cows come home, to roost."

   We said nothing. What could we say. I mean, you want to start lecturing him? But... we have to score a few points. I was getting frustrated, clicking names on the lists.

   "Ah. And now? I will play my... last, card? I feel bad, I am winning game so easily. And so, I will make statement. So, unbelievably insane, surely you can score a point, eh? Here. I will now say? That there is a plan. That? White people, particularly in America, and western Europe. That, they are the problem. And? There is this plan, to simply... breed out, the white man. Wipe him out. Now. Surely, such a thing as that, will prove that I am insane. I, need medicated and the rubber, room. Eh?"

   He smiled and waited. He does have the dramatic pause, the timing? Down to beyond a science.

   "And? Here, we, go. The plan? Is no secret. It is right out, free for the entire world to see. You, do this thing. Perhaps, you think I trick you. And take you to, funny website. You, click, click, click."

   He slid the tablet over slowly, grinning. I sighed, and took it and had it on the table in front of me.

   "Just type in, United Nations. Then? Not hard to find it, at all. Click on it."

   "Okay."

   He leaned over, pointing.

   "Here. This... plan. Is no secret. Go on, click there, and read for yourself."

   I did.

   "Ah. I can tell, by the very look on your face? You are reading it. Read it aloud. This? Is a fun game."

   Panic leaned over, curious. I read it.

   "Paraphrasing? For demographics and economic conditions that are deteriorating, blah blah... the root cause of the economic problems, is simple demographics. In first world countries, as average income goes up, and education levels on average increase? Married couples tend to have far fewer children. If a married couple, have two children? Those children replace the parents, and the population will stay the same. Economies need an expanding population, or economic downturns are inevitable."

   "White western Europeans, particularly the United States, and western Europe, have a replacement birth rate, just below two point oh. The slowly decreasing population, is a major economic problem. The only fix, is to aggressively recruit new immigration. Individuals from second and third world countries? Have lower incomes and lower or even non-existent education levels. Their birth rates are as high as five point oh."

   My mouth hung open. This, was no Ku Klux Klan ranting and raving. This, was an official United nations plan.

   "Ah. Now? The big fun. For me. You? Might have little heart attack. Go back to, front page. Of, silly United Nations website. Who, you all trust? To take care of all you innocent children. Why, I am sure, they only have your best interests, at their hearts. Here... click this. You click."

   It was, a list of human rights violations. That would not be tolerated, by the United Nations, and NATO. To prevent, rogue governments from conducting what is euphemistically known as... ethnic cleansing.

   He leaned over. Pointing.

   "This one. Definitions? Of holocaust. Read out loud. For me, and Monsieur Panic's, amusement. Go on."

   "Panic? There are different definitions, of what constitutes holocaust and genocide. One, is any plan to control or encourage breeding? By race, ethnicity, or skin color or religion or sex."

   "Ah. So. And now, just for fun. Type in... White Genocide. Is always first link? Never, never changes."

   I knew to read it aloud by now,.

   "Its... basically, one of those bust the crazy conspiracy theories, debunking websites."

   "And?"

   "It says, the White Genocide? Is a completely made up, wholly untrue, conspiracy theory. Made up by white supremacists. To try to scare white people into thinking, that there is some plan to genocide the white people and replace them with minorities, permanently. And, naturally, something should be done about it. Most modern countries, have mandatory jail terms, for anyone repeating these racist hate literature claims."

   "And? What are some other, crazy things only stupid and gullible, or crazy, people believe in, eh?"

   "Its, right in between... the moon landing was a hoax, and 911 twin towers, was an inside job."

   "Ah. Now? Let me, keep the score. The, wonderful United Nations. The people, everyone trusts? To make sure, that we all play fair. One link, has the plan, to breed white people out and replace them. So? More money can be milked off the population. And? On the very same United Nations website, they explicitly define... a genocide? As, controlling and encouraging breeding, by skin color."

   I was beyond flabbergasted.

   "Now. All across Europe? It is not like United States. Free speech? Is but a joke now. What they do? You go to jail, if you are convicted, of any... you know, racial statement. It is called, hate speech. But? They can change this definition, of what hate speech is defined as? At any time. If you go and look, merely repeating, the... White Genocide, conspiracy theory? Is a mandatory jail term, in most countries."

   Again. You want to say something. Anything? But, he's really not saying it. He's just... showing you, what you don't notice.

   "And now. By the definition, of that laws? The, United Nations? Should all be in jail. After all, they are repeating, the crazy conspiracy theory. That is so crazy, it is hate speech. But? I think, maybe the United Nations, will not be rounded up and thrown in jail. Though? They are clearly breaking the law."

   "And? I am so sorry. I have, destroyed your pretty little world. You see? Once the thing is seen, it can not be, not seen. You? Are fucked in the ass now, no? You? Are both as crazy as I am."

   We both started and stopped, trying to think of something to say. He chuckled.

   "Ah. I get this? A lot. I am said? To be, what. French billionaire? Is, crazy man. And, I have sense of humor. I was in your United States. I was doing, paper and business things, normal for my work I perform. I bought, a car. I am going to drive around, I want to go see some things. Your, grand canyon and some other famous things. The big, Niagara Falls. Take pictures. Go home? Annoy everyone, must look at vacation pictures, fun game. I needed, car insurance. I called the company. Now. I am not a usual, customer. I had to type in on phone, numbers that was my state. I am a foreigner. There was, of course, nothing on the automatic phone system? It is geared, to people that live there. Naturally. I finally, can press the zero? To wait, to speak to human being."

   "And, I wait. I am told? How important my call is. Then, this silly music. I wait. Finally, a human being. I? Can not understand a word they are saying. I am not perfect for English, but I make myself understood. Perhaps, it is me. I have man, assistant. With me. He? Is American, speaks perfect English. He, can not understand, and they? Do not understand him. They had, foreigner? Who can not speak English, at all. I mean, worse than me! Which? Is not here, is not there. I don't care. But, why is the one person there, who can't speak a word of English? Working on the phone all day. I mean, is this a joke? Was not April fools day."

   We can't help it. It is funny, we started laughing. I mean, the guy that speaks not quite broken English, but... you do have to follow his words closely. He? Is pissed, but laughing about it.

   "Now. I am not, what. Normal human being. I, do not have to be at work, if I do not want to be. It is rude to say it, but, it is true. And so? My assistant is pulling hair out, because I have taken this, as challenge. Is, little puzzle to figure out. This? Is one of, perhaps even? The, biggest insurance company, in your America. I am trying to figure out, how to buy my car insurance, from them. It is, fun game now. So I say, I have sense of humor. I spent, what. Over an hour? Calling, and calling, that automatic phone system. Trying, to figure out. Can, I get around the person that does not speak English? Or, find some way, to get temporary insurance, for foreigner."

   We're starting to crack up. Panic asked it.

   "Uh, did you get insurance?"

   "Yes. I am on, quest for holy grail. I must find it. Finally? I send email. I explain. Perhaps, there has been some mistake. Some person, who does not speak a single word of English? Has gotten onto your phone. Please email me back, I am trying to buy car insurance. And? Every time I press the zero, to speak with human being? I get crazy foreigner. Who is now? Hanging up on me, as soon as they hear my voice."

   Panic is slapping the table now, laughing. This? Reminds me of the police chief in our little hunting camp town we live in. Him? And this guy? Are both comedians. I can just see these two. The chief, and this guy, having a ball at the doughnut shop. And the shit that is going to come out of their mouths? Is going to be absolutely priceless.

   Panic got his laughter under control, and got it out.

   "Okay. So, did you get the car insurance. Finally."

   "Well. Yes, I finally got the car insurance. And, from that company. As I said? It had become, a quest. I must have the holy grail. But, I did not get the car insurance, on the phone. No. But, I did get an email back."

   He paused.

   "And?"

   "Yes. My email? Said this was for valid complaining, only. I was not to use the email complaining link, for racist hate speech, as I was doing. The company? Is, what. Fully committed, to... diversification."

   We both cracked up. A damn foreigner? Is pissed he speaks English, and can't get an English speaking person, on the phone.

   "I mean to say, I am determined. I am sitting there, with my assistant. Who by these times, knows what I am like. He is, used to these things I do. I told him. I am just curious. How, in the flying fuck, is this company even still in business? Let alone, the leading car insurance company in the nation. I am sitting there, telling him. When we get back, to France? We have to make sure, that none of any of our money, is buying stock in these assholes, company. Is, not a good investment."

   "How did you get car insurance."

   "Mind you. I have just bought a car. I have, cash. I pay cash? Man hands me, keys to new car. I let, this American assistant, pick the car out. I am giving it to him? When I leave. I am like little boy. I have a new car? I want to drive it! And he is screaming at me, we are going to jail. Why? Because if a cop comes, I have no car insurance. And so? I pulled over, at rest stop. I will buy car insurance, on the phone. Because? Advertisement, on billboard? Says, call this number. Before you hang up? You will instantly have car insurance, we guarantee it. Well, that guarantee? Is something, I can wipe my French ass with, I tell you that."

   We can barely sit up straight, laughing.

   "Oh. He is a little baby. Always nagging, and screaming. You are driving on wrong side of road. Which pisses people off. The entire world, drives on the same sides of the roads. All of them. I drive in Thailand, once. French side of road, I was there. Only, America and a few others? Do this."

   I need to get this guy on, some comedy show.

   "And? The billboard, instant insurance, which is, of course, the cow shit. And that? Is how this phone insurance thing gets started. Now? After over an hour of this, nonsense. I tell him. Fuck this. I? Am driving to this car insurance. There has to be, somewhere? Maybe I can find this foreigner, and take the phone off of him. Or, get insurance in person. I mean, I have international driver's license, I just need insurance."

   The saga continues.

   "And so? The GPS, on the phone. It takes me, directions. We get there. I am now happy. I am about to find, holy grail. My quest? Is in my fingers, now. I get to the door. It is a Tuesday, maybe, eleven in the morning? The doors, are locked. Which is strange, because the door, has sign. Which clearly says, days and times are open for business. But, doors locked. And? There are people, working inside. I? Can see them! Some imbecile, has locked the door. For fun, I do not know. I knock, and I knock. A lady? Comes to the door. She does not open it, she points to little sign. You can be served best on the phone."

   I am about to start crying, laughing.

   "How are these people, in business? What. Am I to, perhaps dress up, in the black clothes. Sneak in, down through the air conditioning system, the... cat burglar? Maybe, if I can break in after midnight, crack the safe open. There is a stack of car insurance forms, I can get it that way. I do not know. But? I am persistence."

   My stomach? Is getting sore. I am laughing so hard, its almost to the point no sounds are coming out. Somehow, its in part funnier, for the way he pronounces the word... "insurance". He says it... IN-shoe-RANTS. And, he's kind of on a rant, which is to me even funnier now.

   "And so. I am this close, to getting my greedy little frog fingers, on my holy grail, my insurance. I will not quit now. I can wait, at the door? I can grab person, and maybe force them, with threats? To take my money. And once again? Not to beat the dead horse, but? How, in the fuck are these people in business. I knock and knock, again. The lady, its the same one. She, says if I keep harassing them? She will call, the police."

   Oh, lord. I can only take so much more of this, before I might pass out. I can't get my breath.

   "I look at my assistant. Maybe, we do that? Perhaps the policeman, might point a gun at her, and he is to make them give me my... insurance. I am in another country, perhaps this is how it is done here. What do I know. I am French."

   Oh my god, I'm starting to get those little white dots zipping through my vision now and again? I can't breathe right. Can a person die from laughing too long, too hard? I might find out.

   "And so, finally. My assistant? Gets an idea. We have, you know, the international phones. He calls the, big office building, in France. He explains, what is going on. He is going to give them, this phone number? Off the door. Perhaps, they could call this number? And explain. That a billionaire, is trying to patronize the company? Would they please, unlock the door and take his money."

   Christ almighty.

   "And so, my assistant? Is, perhaps more intelligent, than I am. Because, what am I thinking. I must call France, and have France call this place I am standing in front of. Hey. The guy in the nice suit, beating on the door? Is a customer. He wants you to take, his money."

   I'm fighting for air, and not so much to stay alive? I just don't want to miss the ending.

   "Now, we are getting somewhere. So. He, tells it to me. They, are going to call... this number? Here. Where I am. They, will explain this, situation. Then, maybe some person, can unlock the door. Because, god forbid a customer can complete a transaction. While we are waiting, seeing if this, crafty plan can be springing into action. I might want, to buy this whole company. He asks me, for an investment? I tell him, the hell no. Why then. I tell him. Then? We are going to personally, go from place to place, and fire everyone, personally. Then? Bring in the wrecking ball, and demolish the buildings. One, by one."

   Panic is better than me, he gets a question out.

   "What... did he... say."

   "Oh. He says? That, will not work. We can not get in to fire them, even if we own it. They lock the doors. Mm. Perhaps, this is why they do these things. Eh. And so, I am looking in. The only person I can see on the phone? Is the imbecile women, who said she would call the police, for trying to be a customer."

   He shook his head, appearing sad.

   "And so. She gets off the phone, and turns around. I wave. She realizes? I, am the person that France is calling her, about. Now. If you know me for very long, and go out, and the about with me? I do not like, for people to know who I am. I enjoy more, being treated like the normal person. So, in that way? I get to see, how normal people, see the world. If you are like politics on television? They, never have to deal with things, not really. Someone calls them. Oh, the important person is coming, and? You get the... red, carpet? These people, they have no idea, how things really work. Maybe, this is why all politics, are a lot of imbeciles. I do not know. But, in this one case? I am happy, if they know an important person? Is trying like the fires of hell, to patronize, their shitty insurance business. Which again, how in the fuck, are they not... in that red."

   "And so? Yes, I can't get a person that can tie their shoes. I get, this same imbecile woman. She is unlocking the door, and bringing me in, and trying, you know... to make this better."

   He waits.

   "I do not make this last part up. I can, barely understand her. She, speaks less English? Than I do. It is not me, I look at my assistant. He can't understand her much, either. And so. I raise my hand. I ask, very polite. Would anyone that speaks English? Please get me the manager, so I can get my instant car insurance on the billboard."

   Another pause.

   "And? This is, I do not know. The best part? But, also the worst part. It depends, upon how you look at this... crazy shit. This, imbecile? Who can not speak English. She, is the manager. I can not believe this shit."

   In time, we got our breath back. It was one of those rare situations. Where, five minutes later? Another fit of laughter, rips through you but dies away quickly. With our permission, he made some hand motions. Not Betty, another pretty girl. He got a bottle of wine, and coffee again. Of course, we might as well kiss the monkey's ass some more.

   We're now asking him, if he has any more entertaining stories.

   "Many of them, are when traveling. but, I have one from France. If, you insist."

   Oh, we surely did.

   "Ah. Many years ago? It was when the, big open borders, that shit had been going on a while. I found it, amusing, for a time. This, was when I lost my patience. Now. At this time, all of Europe? Is, really pushing hard, the immigration. Now. We have, as you can imagine. This, big office building. Downtown Paris. The, best part of it. And. Remember when, all the terrorism attacks were going on? I mean, I am still amused. I am listening to the radio, and the news. They are explaining, how the immigration, is going to save the economy. How wonderful this is. I am, this is cow shit, but. Okay."

   "And. They interrupt this, big speech? All how wonderful this big waves of immigration is. With emergency news. It was, a terrorism, attack. Some, asshole in a turban? Shot some people, and when the police came? When he was done shooting at them, he threw some explosions around. This, is several blocks away. From where I am standing, listening to the radio."

   "Then? They go back, to the talk program. The imbecile giving this big speech? Yes, they now can continue lecturing me, on how wonderful, all this waves of these assholes coming in, really is. I mean, I am amused. I, just wish? I had that whole thing recorded. I could play it? You would piss your trousers. But you have to take my word for this, I can not make this shit up."

   "But, a few weeks later, was when I found it, let us say, a little bit less amusing. I am once again, standing there. I now? Every day, tune into this, talk program on my radio in this office I am using at the time. I just love, hearing these imbeciles. They say it, so serious. They need awarded, I could not say it all, with the straight face."

   "Ah. And so, I tune in, for my daily jokes. They are all serious, and I can't quit laughing, This, is all so funny. Well, up until this day. So. There I am. I had just gotten some coffee, I am blowing on it, it is very hot. I have to get some sips, so I can get room for my cream to fit in it. Fuck my doctor, and his cow shit. Heavy cream, will make me unhealthy. My doctor? Is so damn fat, he can barely walk around. He, is going to lecture me? On what to eat and drink, to be healthy. Another imbecile, and I pay him money for his nonsense."

   "And there I am. The idiots on the radio, are giving me my daily comedy. I am blowing on this very hot coffee, I do not want to spill it, on my nice suit. If I laugh too hard, before I get some coffee in me? I am in danger of this thing to happen. And? There we go. There is, the ground? Well, the floor of the building... shakes. The fuck is this. We do not have earthquakes? In Paris. I mean, there is clearly, some huge explosion."

   "Fuck me. I burn the shit out of my nipples, and ruin my new shirt, and cravat, and my nice suit. With the hot coffee, and the cream is all over me, it was in my other hand. But, in an explosion, and the building is shaking? Not the immediate, concern. I go running, shit. Did, some... gas main, explode? I get down, next floor. They, are running around. Some people are running, some are hiding. I am running around, the fuck is this shit. I run down the steps, to the next floor down."

   "Ah. Glass, everywhere. Chunks, of... cement, bricks, metal. There is a huge hole in the side, of the big beautiful building. And if you knew how expensive, those big glass walls are? I am, fuck, we must pay for this. Which? We have that money, still not something you enjoy. And? Shit everywhere, office there, destroyed. It... was? A tire. Not a car tire, I mean, the tire, from some huge truck. A tire, so big and heavy? A man can not lift it, I do not think. It has, the part of the, axle still on it. And, you get thoughts. Obviously, there was, some giant traffic, accident. A, tire has come through, the glass wall."

   He paused.

   "No. It comes into my slow brain? I am standing on, what. The third or fourth floor. What kind of traffic accident, can send a tractor tire, up here, and through the wall and into the next office, through that wall. I suppose you can guess. Some, Arabic asshole, I find later? Has blown up the truck. I get, this piece of it. Now. This? Should be bad enough of a thing, yes? No. It is found out, this ass monkey in a turban? Has not stolen this truck. It is his job, to drive this big truck. Which would be fine, but, the unemployment? Is through the clouds at this time. French citizens are in high unemployment, and this ass monkey, can get a job driving big truck around."

   "And so, that was the day, I lost the ability to be amused, and simply laugh at all these things. You would think, any rational human being might stop, as there are these attacks all over at this time. Maybe, we might want to, I do not know. Perhaps, mm... slow down these assholes coming in? Or, stop it, even temporarily? Until we can get our hands on figuring out which ones are the assholes. But, no. That radio talk program? We need, more. To? Save, us."

   "This, is being saved? Fuck me in my asshole, if this, is what being saved, from ruin, is. Now then. I am not a genius. I never was, I do not think I will ever be one, at this point. I seem to be, normal intelligence. But? My job is, all about money. Now. We have, record high unemployment, at this time. We are bringing in, these assholes, to blow shit up. And? To take what few little shitty jobs, are even left. From us. And every month? If you bring in thousands more of these assholes, there goes the unemployment, higher and higher. I sit and scratch my head. There are not enough jobs to go around, for all the people now. How, does bringing in more people, with no jobs? Make it better. It actually? Makes it, far worse."

   "And so. Everyone, is running around. You can see this. Explosion. Tire through building, four, five floors up. Fuck this cow shit. I went, and got out a bottle of wine. I? Will get a little bit drunk. After I had finished most of the bottle? I went to drive home. Drunk. Now, this is dangerous. I will not hit anything, but the police. Ah. All the police? Are dealing with this shit, I am safe to drive, half kicking in my ass, home. Fuck the radio, fuck the imbeciles we elected last time, to give us this shit. Fuck the Paris police, too."

   "And so. I get home. I tell my wife, who is a little frantic. To hell with this. We? Are going away. She, is scared. To travel. I tell her. There are, tractor tires and truck parts? Through the building, I am working in! We are safer, pretty much by my calculating, about, oh, anywhere else, on the planet. And so, I convince her. That this? Is wise. Now, there is the matter, of the big airplanes. Oh. Fuck that. Remember, some asshole with a sharp pencil, can take the airplane and drive it into, probably my big building, is my luck."

   "Ah. I have money, even if my life? Is now complete shit. And so. Now, where to even go. Where, might be safe. I sat, and I thought about this. I want sand. I want warm sun. I want, what. Palm trees. No, big resort. Fuck that, some asshole might want to blow it up, because there are white people there. And so. I got a private jet plane, rented. We pick a place out. No big buildings. Looks beautiful. We get there."

   "Now, I am happy. Finally. Ah. You can rent, this... little spot of beach. You get, it is called a cabana, I think. It is, just a grass hut, that you live in. Some girl comes, and does the food, and the washing of the clothes, all that help. I am happy. Now. This place? Is, about overrun? With little monkeys. They are, very amusing, and also? Quite cute."

   "My wife is not happy, they stole her cell phone. I am drunk, and laughing. This little monkey? Is sitting up in the tree, and it it looking at her phone. Tapping it, with its hairy hands. She is throwing sticks up at the monkey. He? Is throwing pieces of little branches at her, she is annoying him. Finally, the monkey throws her phone at her, and almost hits her. But the sand. The phone? Is fine. A little bite marks, on the case. She is not happy, but. No exploding trucks. This? Is an improvement."

   "I told her. These monkeys? Are less trouble, than the assholes in Paris. Monkeys, will raise many kinds of hell, but never will they blow anything up. I think, we should bring these little monkeys in, not the assholes in the turbans. I mean, we would be winning the game. The monkeys? Do about as much work as these assholes do. Which is to say? About none. The monkeys, would not take what jobs are still there. And? The most crime, ah, a cellphone now and then. And, the monkeys give you the phone back, when they are done looking up, whatever monkeys need to see on the smart phone. Better than the assholes, who will not get your phone back, when they steal it."

   "My wife, is now amusing me. This monkey, she pissed him off. He, is chasing her around, screeching at her. She? Is running around, screaming. I am pointing and laughing. Of course, I am the son of the bitch, but. Finally, she gets tired. The monkey? Sneaks up, and tried to make off with her purse. I explained. The fuck do you even have a purse for. There, is nowhere to go. She says, the lipstick. and like that. I like her with nothing on her face, and there is no one else who cares."

   "And so, I am sitting up against a palm tree. There, is a guy that brings drinks. I get drunk? I take nap. I wake up, and a little monkey, is dancing around. He is coming in, I think he wants my drink. Hey. I now, have a drinking, partner. I drink about three fourths of my drink, and the monkey? Can lift it up, and drink it. He, burps and wipes his mouth. Then? He gives me the empty, cup back! I went and got more drinks. I gave the monkey his own drinks. The wife is pissed, but this would be so anyways, and so nothing is lost there."

   "I get drunk, the monkey is, piss drunk. He finally, crawls to me, and can not stand up. I held him, he is cute and sleeping on me. Now. I am many things, at these point in time? Sober, is not one of them. My wife, gets me to the, grass hut. Her and the girl that helps with things? Put me to bed. I am like a little boy, I will not let anyone take my little teddy monkey. I want to wake up, with my monkey friend. We will get breakfast, maybe get drunk and drown together. Who knows."

   "Did, you wake up with the monkey?"

   "Mm. Yes, and no. He was there. I woke up to the wife screaming. Which, is not so unusual, under many circumstances, you must understand. But, in this case. I can see this point she has. And, I wake up. I am getting, beat across the face? With something. But, it does not hurt. I thought, perhaps the spoiled wife? Was pissed at me for the monkey in bed, but? It was not her. I did not know that monkeys do not sleep in. Now, there is fresh fruit in baskets around, and other food. The monkey, is beating me with a banana peel. It is time to get up, the sun isn't even up yet."

   "And so, once I am up? The monkey is happy again. We went, to the big cabana thing? Where you can get breakfast. The monkey? Will now, not leave me. He follows me around, and rides on me. I named him, Allah."

   "Are you sure its a boy monkey?"

   "Yes. Very. He has, actually decent size equipment, given his small size. He is very proud of it, and will play with it, and show you. I love this. I am eating breakfast, and there is a monkey, playing with himself, on the chair next to me. I made them? Bring Allah breakfast, as well. A few dollars, piss on it. I am amused again. Now? I can not do any business deals here, but? No one is shooting and blowing shit up, either. A fair trade, to me. I go swimming, and walking around, exploring. Allah, is showing me around."

   "Did you train the monkey?"

   "Not at first. Allah, trained me, my wife said. He jumps up and down on the garbage cans. If I lift it up, the lid? He is excited, and wants to go through the garbage can. Piss upon the people, that will not do this for them. I go to my palm tree, and I want a nap. After swimming and exploring. I wake up? Allah, had brought me, a cup. It has some ice, and a little bit of drink in it. He? Is giving it to me. I pretended, to drink it. I mean, no asshole they brought into Paris? Has given me a god damn thing yet, and this monkey? Is ahead of them now. Well, they did give me a tire and some car parts? But, I do not think that counts, as a gift."

   "For lunch? I go and walk around. They have these, bigger cabanas. Some are for food, some are for drinks, a few are where you buy the overpriced beach thing you might want, like the lotion to oil my wife's pretty little bottom with, and beach clothes. Allah seemed to want something, and so I got him a little baby's shirt. I got him to wear it. Me and Allah? We are communicating by these point in time. I know when he wants things. Ah. I tell you, he is cheaper to shop for? Than the wife. Now, it is true the wife does things for me, that Allah will not do, but he complains less, too."

   "And so, I am walking back one day, and Allah wants down. He runs around, and comes back? He hands me, keys. To what. I am looking around, the hell are the keys to. Aha. They, have all these tiny little, what. Mopeds. You rent them, and you get drunk and ride around on them. Hmm. After all the rented mopeds were done as it got dark? There was, one left. Allah, had gotten keys. Yes, they start the little moped. Allah is excited. Apparently, he has ridden on a moped before. We went and eat more, and then to the drinking cabana. Then? We were both drunk, and I barely made it home. Me and Allah? Are both kicked in our asses, and the wife is not amused."

   "The wife, in the morning? Is a bear with the sore ass. You have stolen the moped. No, Allah stole it. I just drove it. Besides, he only borrowed the moped. I? Am driving around every day, trying to find the owner. Eh, the wife is not purchasing my story. Fuck everybody. I swapped the, license plate? With another moped, a distance away. Have fun tracking me down now, and putting my little monkey friend in jail."

   "My wife claims, that Allah is a bad influence on me, and maybe this is so. Now. When I am at the palm tree? Which is where I take my naps, in the little shade. Allah, will bring me things. Some sand. Not so great a gift, on a beach. Seashells? Eh. I wake up from a nap? I have a cell phone now. It is working, and it is not mine. It is not my wife's. So now, when I go to lunch? I am on my cell phone, and Allah gets his phone. Monkey see? Monkey do."

   "I can't understand a god damn thing, these assholes in Paris are saying? And I can communicate with the monkey, better. He is better behaved, as well."

   Panic was intrigued.

   "Allah do anything, bad?"

   "Once. My wife got some, what is it. Banana oil, suntan lotion? He gets it off of her, and... he's drinking some of it. It smells like bananas, and? Can you guess what happened. Poor little Allah was laying there, making pitiful little noises, holding his tummy. Then? He's shitting this goo out. He was sick, and I stayed with him, for a day and a night, until he was better. I carried him around, in a little basket. With a towel, to keep an eye on him. The monkey? Will call in sick. That is to say, sleep in. Only when he was sick that one time. Other than that? You must get up just before dawn. The monkey, will have nothing else. I mean, this? Is a god damn work ethic, in my book."

   "Well, at least he got better."

   "Yes. I like my little monkey. I would take him to hospital, if I could. Those assholes, they bring into Paris? Fuck them, I would not take them to hospital. This monkey? Has a job, and a work ethic. And he gives me gifts. Those, assholes? Not so much. I finally figured out. If we had elected this little monkey, to lead us? Instead of that imbecile, Macaroni. We would have been much better off, and very much ahead on that game. The monkey? Is more entertaining, in the first thing. And? I do not think, he would have fucked Alsace-Lorraine in the ass, and brought all those assholes into Paris and around the country."

   Christ's throne, this guy has to meet the Chief in our town. Its easy to forget, that we are working on a detailed plan? To kill him.

   "Now. I did not want to leave. This place? Fucking paradise. It was strange. They charge you an arm and a leg, to land on this island. But, once you are there? Very cheap. I had a great idea from this. If you want to come to any country? It should cost you something. An, asshole tax. Macaroni and the other imbeciles? They, are paying assholes to come here. Not only are they useless, can't communicate, and run unemployment up? I am paying for this, shit. I am actually paying higher and higher taxes? To have my beautiful city, Paris herself? Blown up."

   I can see his point.

   "Now. If they were bringing in, what. Scientists, discovering cures. Artists, making beautiful marble statues. Designing new airplanes or things of this nature. Yes, I will pay higher taxes, for this. But to have things blown up? No. I should get some of my taxes back, for having to put up with this shit. I go to lunch one time, at work. Important client. He is, big general, in some other European military. We, are going to invest their pensions for the military. We get out the front door, to take taxi to nice place to have business lunch, with client? Fuck me in my French ass, this is some, asshole in a turban. He is actually taking a shit? In the doorway."

   "My god."

   "I made a little movie, with my phone. He is complaining, to me. Fuck this, I should be the one complaining, yes? Fuck him. I mean, the hell is wrong with this asshole. The door is open. The bathroom? Right there. Anyone, can use the bathroom. Even if he can not read? There is a picture on the door, so you know where to take a shit."

   "Its funny, but, its not really funny."

   "No, no. You are with me on this thing, then. Good. And so? Remember. I was the guy, that got the medal on the television, back in that day. I called up radio station. Yes, the one that I listen to, while they are blowing shit up in front of my beautiful building. They got me on their show, and I argue with these assholes. Fuck this. What can anyone do to me. I own large corporation. No one can fire me."

   "How did that go."

   "Eh. Amusing, some. The people, they call in. About half? Were on my side. The other half? Imbeciles, like Macaroni. There, is no between these things. The radio people? Yell and complain at me. Bitch said I am, a Nazi. I tell her. No, there are no Nazi's alive anymore, they are all dead. And, if she is seeing Nazi's? Other than on the Halloween, she needs to go to a crazy doctor. She insisted. I told her, all right then. Here we go. When I was little? In school. Yes, they make you memorize all this world war two stuff. They spend weeks on it, every year. And yes, I remember. I was, what. Horrified, at the shit they did. You sit and wonder, how in the hell, could they be such monsters."

   "Yeah."

   "When I was little. But, now. This shit? Maybe, the people were doing something, that made the Germans that angry. Now? I do not know. If, they started rounding these assholes up, and putting them in the train cars, taking them away? Not seen again? Eh. I might not be so interested in where they took them to. Out of sight, out of the mind. I might, even, be persuaded to give them some money for fuel, to keep those trains running. Who knows. She screamed, I need to be in jail for saying that. I told her, she needs to be in crazy hospital. Sharing their culture with me? Fuck me in my asshole. This, is culture? Blowing shit up. Shooting people. Stabbing people. Raping little girls. Shitting in public doorways. What kind of culture do these assholes, come from."

   "Lord only knows. All over the third world."

   "And. They have me back, radio listeners? Love the arguments. You can figure out, some of the things that came out of my mouth. One guy called in. Wanted to know, how much taxes, we paid. I texted the accounting. I said it, on the air. Last year? We paid this much. In tax. He said? Almost every one of them, was paying no tax. And? We pay them. To come and be here. The man said. Looking at these numbers? I, am paying for these assholes. My investment company? This is shit."

   "We had planned, on staying on the little monkey island, for a couple weeks. Fuck this. I called home. I am staying a while. And if anyone wants to take off for a while? Until they quit blowing shit up, go ahead. Close the building if everyone wants vacation, fuck everyone. We can afford it. But the radio, program? They had Macaroni on with me. That was not a civil discussion. I told him. You like this? Then I will come to where you live. I will blow something up, send car parts through your house. Is fine. I am sharing culture with you. I will shit in your doorway. When you host, important horse faced bitch from Germany. You leave house? You can both watch me take shit. Fuck her. He said, I would be arrested. I said no, I will wear turban and bed sheets, will be fine."

   Yeah. The Chief? Will want this guy to stay. They'll be best friends. I'm starting to wonder, how Panic will take it? If... I try to get him to rethink the plans we have.

   "Oh yes. Paradise. Monkey island. I did not want to leave. Couple weeks? Turned into couple months. The, boys were calling me. When are you coming to home. I asked, come visit. Maybe? We can build building here. Big tax to land, but... cheap to stay. But? Wife got bored. I ask her. What, you miss shit being blown up? Sitting in traffic for hours, for ten minute drive. Because some asshole is blowing shit up. My biggest problem here? There was, a little monkey war."

   We lost it laughing.

   "No. Was serious. I was fearing for little Allah's life. I am not a dangerous man, except with money. But, I was big heavyweight hero, in monkey war. Fuck those, asshole monkeys."

   "A monkey, war?"

   "I wake up. All this noise. I thought I was dreaming, I lived in paradise, on beautiful beach. All this? I must be in Paris. But no. Allah is in the doorway, jumping up and down, throwing anything he can get his hands on, at these... asshole monkeys. I told wife. These? Must be monkeys, some imbecile monkey leader, brought in. To save monkey economy. Now? Poor Allah, he is fucked in his little monkey ass now. Wife wanted to close door, shove Allah out. Fuck that, he is my little friend. I started throwing stuff at them, as well. Fuck them."

   "You fought in the monkey war."

   "Yes. Asshole monkeys? Came, and share their culture with me. You know what they did? They shit on the ground, and pick it up and throw it. This went on, for couple hours. I finally took a shit? Fuck them, two can play this game. I got a rag and threw mine at them. They did not like that. They throw sand, and seashells, some sticks and rocks. I threw big things at them, and ran out screaming. I took big stick, chased them. Little furry bastards."

   "What was it all about."

   "I do not know. Maybe? They were pissed. Allah had some, great monkey job. He had his own cell phone. If I use my phone? He jumps up and down, until I turn his on, and he can use his. I ran them off, they were screeching in the trees. Allah, fuck them. We stay in today? I get good food."

   Panic chuckled.

   "And? Can I ask things."

   "Yes. We will have no, things, that are secrets. And you may wonder, why I pick you out, eh? That question, it is fair. Yes? If I wear your shoes, maybe I think. Crazy French man, he plays with me. For the fun, like a little monkey. I do not, but how would you know this thing."

   "Why then."

   I know Panic. He has his own rules, and guidelines. And I know one above all others. A person he judges, is not on their actions. Unless that is all he has to go on. Now if he can fathom their motivations? I've been there when he said it. To me. We've both done horrible things, but for the best of reasons. He came out to me, slowly. The things he had done, and why. How it came to that. How a man can come to jump down into that bloody mud ditch, and participate in the savagery. And yet, not be one of the monsters. I came out to him back. I slept with FBI agents, to better find the dirty ones.

   We both almost lost our soul. But, we saved a piece of it. And grew another one back. One without the cancer the original one had. Wizzy had given me spirituality, to replace my religion. As had worked for him. Then Panic? Was the same. If you live long enough, at being an agent of karma? You replace your mentor. You pass it on.

   "Mm. I like to read. Whatever takes, my passing fancy. As a food? Whatever my very ordinary French brain thinks will satisfy the hunger, eh. Your American, the... roaring, twenties. America had found it. Your, Sam Colt? He made a better gun. And they said it."

   Panic grinned.

   "God made man. Sam Colt, made the men equal."

   The Devil smiled.

   "Yes. Now, we know, that the men, they are not equal. Even with the, Colt. But? The Colt, it is your chance, to be the equal. The Colt? It is no, magic wand. To grown up children, perhaps. The Colt? Is a tool. And? To use the money, and the paper? As a tool. You Americans, you discover this. You see? You Americans. You get the... fresh, start. New country. And, do you not call those men. The, fathers of your country. Yes?"

   "Mm. Good men. Most of them. And, it takes a good man. To have a chance, to become a great man. And these men. Great men. Your, fathers of America. Do you love them? Even today."

   "I do."

   "And why? I mean you, not any one."

   "For me? They could have easily, became the nobles. It would have been easier. It would have made them rich and important."

   "Yes. But they did not. Why, do you think."

   Panic sighed.

   "They wanted something more."

   "Ah, yes. And, was it for themselves?"

   "No. They did it for us."

   "Ah. Exactly. They had, their choice. Work with the king, back in England. Be nobles. Or? Risk it all. They had, a few... chips. They sat down at that big, poker table. With the king and all his men. Who had big stacks of chips, in front of them. And they got a few hands coming in. To stay in the, big poker game. And then? What do they do. They go? All... in."

   "They won."

   "Yes. But? They do not know this. But, they were smart. And they were, all persistence. And? With very little, chips. Finally, they get the right cards. They finally get the little bit of luck, it comes. They go, all in. Now. With, your permission."

   "Sure."

   "Where do they get, these idea. That, even if we know all men, are not equal. That, they should be treated as so. Is this their new idea, or... if no, then where do they get these things. That, these rare men. Are not all born rich. There are poor men, that are even better. Where does these things come from. Do you know?"

   Panic nodded.

   "They were men of the enlightenment. They saw themselves, as the new Renaissance."

   The Devil nodded.

   "Yes. I knew a clever man, would read these things. And, where do these things come from."

   "Europe."

   Another nod.

   "And where in Europe? Not all, but many."

   "France. A lot of the Renaissance? Was France. Italy too, but a lot in France."

   The Devil grinned.

   "It was. They read many things. Men like, Voltaire. They look up to, men like, the Pascal. And look at many of them, the best of them. Men like, your Jefferson. He was a great speaker, but. He was an architect, and a scientist, and painted. Renaissance man."

   Panic nodded.

   "And then, they stand there. It is, hard for a man to see it. And? Harder yet, to go through with it. But? They do these things. They should have died, no? They know these will be, their death."

   Panic nodded.

   "We must all hang together, or we will hang separately."

   "Yes. And, what did your Patrick Henry say."

   Panic looked down, then came up a few seconds later.

   "Give me liberty, or give me death."

   He had dropped his face.