Bona-Brown collapsed into his recliner, picked up the e-tainment remote and woke the unit up. The ten second lag-time annoyed him.
“Gilbert. Gilbert! Where the fuck are you.” Bona-Brown. Gilbert was his Filipino "houseboy" and was supposed to be on-deck and ready to serve regardless of when Bona-Brown arrived back at his penthouse.
A beefy man appeared in the doorway. “Gilbert was detain by spontaneous street celebrations and I was detailed to replace him tonight.” the man said. Unknown to Bona-Brown, 'spontaneous street celebrations' were the cynical code used by Cali insiders for street riots. It was not surprising that Gilbert had run into difficulties. The riots were increasing in scope and frequency. They were interfering with bus traffic
“How may I serve you?” the burly man asked.
“You can get me ice and my bottle of whiskey.” Bona-Brown said.
“Yes sir. I was detailed on that.” The man said.
He returned momentarily with a bottle of Jack Daniels Tennessee whiskey, an insulated bucket filled with ice and an over-sized crystal, Old Fashioned glass. The massive glass was bottom heavy and had a large base that resisted tipping.
Bona-Brown was scrolling through his library of porn videos and selecting Southeastern Asian porn and loading it into 'shuffle' mode. He was being dragged down by the tedium and details of running Cali. He had no idea of how much Frank Spirochete had done of the heavy lifting...work he found exhausting to do.
Looking at the titles Bona-Brown was selecting, the new man asked, “Do you want me to arrange for male or female companionship for tonight?
“No. I just need to unwind.” Bona-Brown said.
The man brought his robe and slippers and helped Bona-Brown into them. The new man was not talkative, a fact that Bona-Brown appreciated.
Bona-Brown used the tongs to place ice into his glass and he filled it with whiskey. Bona-Brown would go through the first two glasses quickly. Then he would slow down. He rarely went to sleep until the bottle was empty.
“You may go now.” Bona-Brown said. Then, considering, he asked “What is your name?” He was thinking that Gilbert was increasingly unreliable and the new man looked like he could bull his way through any street celebration. Further, Gilbert could be a bit of a chatter-box and be excessively familiar, characteristics that Bona-Brown found increasingly annoying. One thing the new guy was going to have to do was to get a new wardrobe suitable for a domestic. The sport jacket he was wearing looked like a burlap bag.
“Are you sure you don't need anything else, sir?” the man asked.
Bona-Brown shook his head, “No.”
“My name is Ralph.” the burly man said. “Good night, sir.” He pulled the door shut as he left.
8:30 AM local time.
“Bona-Brown passed away last night after suffered a massive stroke.” Tess DeChaunac read from a prepared statement. “In honor of Prime Minister Bona-Brown memory we will continue to introduce the initiatives he was on the verge of announcing. One of those new initiatives is a cease-fire with the Sedelia forces and subsequent peace-talks. Please join us and all of the Cali family in praying for, or wishing well for Bona-Brown's memory.”
“Knowing Cali's deep and abiding love for Bona-Brown, his body will lie in state for sixty days so citizens can pay their respects. Times and locations to be announced.” DeChaunac finished.
As a matter of academic interest, enough Botox can be frozen into a single ice cube to level a herd of water buffalo.