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WHITEWHITE

Ethan Vulerummer slept peacefullyhrough the morning hours. He had

een very drowsy on his return fromThe Beast Bar and barely remembered

o contact his man Jay Carroll over the

ultra secure link provided by his Deep

Water Communicator . He wanted all his appointments put on hold into the early afternoon. He’d gotten into

ed in his suite above the V Corp Building at 6:00 AM and went out like a light. At 10 he woke up just enough

ealize how peacefully he was sleeping and rolled back into his pillow for more. It was noon when he camewake all at once and quickly sat up in his bed. His restful sleep had been shattered by a striking and vivid

dream.

His view was encased in a field of dry bushes and small wilting trees. He saw the body of a child laying

lat on its back in front of him and it appeared to have been in that place for quite a while. The child wasdead. The head had a bullet wound at one of the temples. The male child was naked and covered with

worms that were breaking down the corpse. He couldn’t move his own body and was frozen in place and

ooking down. All he could see from this fixed viewpoint were the tips of his KuomGotti shoes with the spof ink barely visible on one of the toes; and the naked remains of this child who was perhaps 7 or 8 years

old. The skin on the stomach and abdominal region of the corpse had been removed—not by a wild animbut by the precise cuts of a hunting knife. Worms had gathered on the exposed muscle and were hard at

work.

Seemingly paralyzed in the grip of the horrible site, he became aware of some pleasant odor not unlikhat of Sandalwood oil—then, of a “presence” he sensed hovering over him from behind. More then any-

hing, he wished he could turn around and see who or what it was that was at his rear.The dream then reached its apex: the eyes on the corpse shot open and it reached out its arms in the

motion a baby might make to its mother. Then, in a flash, the child lifted from the ground as if a powerfu

gust of wind had caught it and made it sail upwards. This happened in a single motion and it wasn’t evehe corpse that had suddenly come alive. It was more like an apparition that was contained in the decay

matter before him and then set free—a replica of the corpse or a template from which the dead body had

been made. He struggled to move but could not. He felt an looming sense of doom upon him. Then he rezed he was only dreaming and came awake in his bed.

Vulerummer had nightmares before but this was very real and vivid. After a moment’s thought he had “rea

he dream—or that part of it he could easily understand. He had been urged to “read his dreams” during his

many years of once-a-week therapy sessions. The therapy was helpful to him. Such dreams, as he understoodwere a kind of moral debris not unlike the microscopic chunks of metal that sloshed around in the oil pan of a

ar. He believed only weak fools made more of it then that. So he quickly dismissed this dream as unfit for m

hought at all—he knew how KuomGotti shoes were really made and it didn’t bother him in the least.

BUSTER

Cha 9 from LionWorld

by William E Justin

Copyright 2011

All Rights Reserved

BUSTER



Fully awake now, he realized there were important things to think about. He needed to call the head of hispersonal security team and meet with him as soon as possible. This was serious business and he didn’t waste

ny time in ordering the man up to his penthouse suite immediately. He put in a live call to Jay Carroll and tohim to set his rest-of-the-day schedule to begin at 2:00PM.

He had the heads of his largest American media companies gathering in Capital City for a scheduled confer

nce the following day. They were to talk about “themes and schemes” as they called it. Setting guidelines foFascist-oriented streamlining of the news and concocting “hot new stories” that would keep the public en-

hralled enough to sit through the many commercials. Critics charged this as having a dual effect that include

distracting people from focusing on the important issues that affected their lives. Of course, real critics that u

derstood the manufacturing of consent that took place on the majority of media in the western world, didn’t gir time on the channels where it took place.

When the head of security came into Vulerummer’s office, he was visibly nervous. There had never been a

hing close to a breach such as what had occurred that morning when the shoeshine man and his strange-look

at had set up right, smack in the middle of their detail without any of them having noticed. Even with the anly of what weather people were now calling “a historical occurrence of fog”, this breach was like a cardinal s

The two men most responsible for this were sitting around like freighted children in their office waiting for th

verdict—which at best would be the loss of their employment, and at worst, being killed for incompetence! Tecame even more agitated when they were summoned up directly to the penthouse suite. Both men would’

un if they could have. Instead, they joined the other members of that morning’s street-team and crowded inhe private elevator that led to Vulerummer’s suite.

“I want to apologize to you men”, Vulerummer said strongly. He pointed at one of the guards. “This man tome to stay put and I overruled him. That goes against our agreement and contract. I’m afraid I made a bit of

f myself.”

The men were more then surprised to hear this and almost gasping together in relief. All of them quickly aured the richest man in the world that he was entitled to do anything he wanted to. The commander of the s

urity team said he also wanted to apologize that this odd shoeshine man had gotten inside of their defense n

He even had statistics to quote to the boss that would reassure Vulerummer that there was always room for iprovement and that they were dedicated to learn mightily from this episode. He told him that the density of t

og and the movement of their detection network of men had left the little shoeshine man with no better then

housand-to-one chance of doing what he had done.“I take it that you’ve asked all of the questions and have the identity of that man?”

“We’re still working on it. Apparently he’s not very well known in this vicinity. But it’s only a matter of timefore we find out who he is, sir”.

“He told me he was originally from Ceylon and that he had always moved around a lot. He appeared much

oft to be any kind of threat.” Vulerummer thought about it some more and said that he should’ve gotten hisname. “Still, I would think it should be pretty easy to get a handle on him.”

That is just what Kerri Branghaue was thinking when she set a team out to make discrete enquiries about t

hoeshine man. They had come to the same conclusion as Vulerummer’s security head. The man must’ve wodered in a good distance from his usual haunts and was not known on the street around there. And nothing o

him had turned up in any of the databases that had been searched. She had gotten on this immediately and as

Vulerummer slept, she was soaring back across the country on a World Security Burner Jet. At the time her aversary was waking up from his vivid dream, she was passing down a hallway in Los Angeles that led to the o

ice of Eric “Brick” Smith. He would’ve already have known that she had taken a jet and flown to Manhattan Che previous night. He hadn’t called her which meant a show of trust and she was eager to fill him in on every

hing. Smith was surprised to see her and was doused with a look of amusement. He couldn’t imagine what s

might’ve been up to.“Well, I hear you and your secretary had a night on the town—in Manhattan City no less. Kerri, I’m glad to

you’re finally beginning to let your hair down a little.” He was smiling broadly. She didn’t give him many opp

unities to tease her and watched her face frown up a bit. As he was anxious to hear what she had been up totopped his kidding there. The thought she would take a burner jet and go on a pleasure run was comical

nough and way more then he could’ve actually hoped for. When he finished hearing her account—complete



with the admission of her dream and odd preoccupation with the photos of the steel door, he was wide-eyed.Wow!” was all he could say at first.

“Do you think I was wrong in playing my hunch?” she asked her mentor.“Ah….no. Certainly not in this circumstance. If nothing else, we’ve gained some real insight into Vulerumm

hat we didn’t have. And we know there are going to be holes in his defenses…that thing about the shoeshine

man?” Smith paused and searched his mind. This part of Branghaue’s account reminded him of something bhe couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“That was odd” she said. “It was like there was one tiny hole in his security net and this nobody from no

where shows up and walks right through it.” This sparked Smith’s mind and he became aware of what he wa

rying to put his finger on.“It sounds a bit like all of that weird stuff we heard from White out in Santa Barbara.” He lightened up som

His mode of behavior was to never be seen as sinking into the perplexity of a difficult situation. Smith saw hi

elf as the commander on the hill overlooking the battle. But now he had a strange sense of there being a larg

hill and something looking down on him as well. This was not a feeling he liked at all and so he made light of whole thing. He offered that perhaps the shoeshine man was part of these “Washington Kachina” people she

iked to believe in. “He must be one of their guys!” he said, feigning seriousness.

“Well, maybe he is” she said, going along with the joke.“You should call up that one guy…what was his name, White’s trainer in Arizona?”

“Paul Cavalet”.“Yeah, you might want to give him a call. He’s probably the boss of the Kachinas”.

Kerri laughed. Smith always had a way of reassuring her. He was perhaps the best man she’d met; a good trong father figure that becomes the standard by which a women will measure all other men.

“There’s one other thing that’s been kinda bothering me” she said. “Eric, would you have killed Vulerumm

when you had the chance, like I did last night…I mean like I would’ve had if I’d thought to bring a weapon?”“Nobody expects us to make sacrifices like that . If upper level people like us did that, trust in World Securi

would go out the window. This is why we have people like the Arab Assassins Group. Did you consider tryin

et one of them in?”“It never crossed my mind” Branghaue said. “There wasn’t time for it any way and Vulerummer’s man was

itting right on top of me.”

“That’s too bad. I’d of liked to have seen if one of those guys would actually function if called upon.” The AAssassins Group or (AAG), was an odd religious organization that had been bound to World Security for deca

They supposedly wanted to sacrifice themselves as some kind of sacrament. They maintained a training pro-ram year in and year out but had never been called upon to actually execute. They were considered a specia

roup to be used only in very select situations. Nothing suiting their profile had ever really come up. World S

urity had never run up against the prolific planning of an organization such as what The Seven Lions of PrivaControl had become under Vulerummer.

“I’m going to station one of them very close to The Beast Bar ” Branghaue said. “We’ll try and get an operatin there, a bus boy or something. If Vulerummer shows up again we can pull the trigger.”

“But he almost never goes there? Right?”

“Before last night, maybe once about a year ago. And that was only a rumor.”“Still” Smith said, “that’s better then what we had this time yesterday. You did a great job Kerri.”

Six weeks after those events had taken place, Bill Le Muffet began his day in The Oakland. He had rolled of the sack just past 9 am and was at his kitchen counter sipping coffee and surfing through the web pages tha

ame and went on a 21 inch screen mounted to a nearby wall. He lived at the top of a three story developmenown houses overlooking a plush urban lake front. A confirmed bachelor, the outside spearman of the Le Mu

Crew had a central core of training he practiced daily during the off-season. He would gaze out his window a

watch the steady flow of young, female joggers looking for “a candidate”. When one appeared, he’d sprint outhe house and down the three flights of stairs and jog after her at a polite distance. When she stopped, he wo

top and make conversation and try and hook her up for a date out to whatever club or restaurant or social e

him and the boyz” would be attending that evening. Bill liked girls who were well-endowed on the backsidenes who could “weather the storm” as he put it.



The other thing Bill Le Muffet did religiously was to stay abreast of the latest in electronics. He wanted toknow everything that was going on—from miniature cameras to the latest audio equipment to industrial lase

echnology and motion detection. He planned to open a state-of-the-art security business in the coming yearand further capitalize on The Le Muffet name. Today, he was looking for information about a coming produc

rom Asian Motors called, The Scout . It was a two-seat, compact four-wheeler with the purported ability to ju

and clear a six-foot wall. They were designed as recreational toys and also for security patrols. He’d heard the first videos of The Scout would be out at anytime and that an initial lot of the vehicles would be available

prior to the general public release in Asian Motors’ showrooms after the first of the year. Bill did a fast search

The Scout and didn’t realize he’d entered a typo into the search box. He ended up on a web page featuring a

video of some old guys driving around on Asian Motors’ Scoots . Bill, still sleepy-eyed, was trying to figure ouhow these over-sized wheel chairs and their ancient drivers were going to jump a six foot wall. Then he saw made the typo and went to go back to do a new search. Before he could click out of The Scoot video however,

omething called an “intrusion ad” shot out from the far right middle portion of the screen. It occupied about

ifth of the screen-space and a male figure in a video superimposed on the black background of the rectangleurned to center-screen with a cupped hand at his mouth. His voice was conspiratorial and very familiar to B

“Hey, buddy! If you’re a single senior man who decides he’s not yet ready for a Scoot ride to an early grave

ollow me.” The video figure motioned for the viewer to come along and the “intrusion ad” collapsed back inhe far right of the screen leaving a small arrow and a box that said; “Click Here For More Information”. Whe

did, Bill Le Muffet was staring at a video featuring Buster White in full promotional mode introducing a retirement home for single senior males down near Rio in Brazil. He could hardly believe it.

He watched spell-bound as Buster led the viewer on a video tour of La Casa de Hombres Viejo Retirement Cmunity in Paradise Canyon, Brazil. There was a sparkling pool, a bar, a restaurant, a 9 hole golf course and puing green, a gym, tennis courts, an on site medical office, 300 rooms and even a miniature train that delivere

he men to various points on the large property. The retirement center featured an array of young women inkinis that provided all of the service duties for the men. By day they caddied for them, cooked and served the

ood, cleaned the individual units, trained with them in the weight room, and played bad mitten, tennis and

oined in the card games. They also did singing and dancing shows four nights a month and provided massagervices “with all the trimmings” according to Buster. Toward the end of the promotional video, he introduc

the beautiful president of La Casa de Hombres Viejo Retirement Community , Mrs. Lucile Trump—the aunt of

world famous Lion-Fighter Maxim Le Muffet”.Bill Le Muffet, watched his aunt flash one of the perfect smiles he had known since he was a young boy and

would come to visit them. She warmly told the video audience of single senior men that they were welcome come down to Brazil for a complementary 3 day, 2 night stay and judge for themselves whether they might w

o spend their wonder years as part of the community here.

The promotional video ended with Buster White saying how he’d only been at La Casa de Hombres Viejo Reirement Community for a short time but felt ten years younger as a result. He mentioned there was a financia

officer on site to offer information on reverse mortgages. The video hit freeze frame after a miniature train cby carrying several guests. It was driven by one of the bikini clad young women who mostly disappeared off

camera making it appear to Bill as if this train was being driven by “fine booty”. He was wide awake now and

bouncing around nervously on the bar stool at his kitchen counter. He knew he needed to do something but hwas unsure just what to do or why to do it. He stared at the part of the freeze frame featuring “the fine booty

and suddenly knew what he had to do. He had to go on down to Brazil and investigate just what was going on

here. He told himself this video promo could have the effect of hurting The Le Muffet name. It looked danger

o him. He called up his younger brother Ronnie who lived at the opposite end of the development of town-

houses there.“Oafy, you gotta see what I jus saw! Remember that bet we made about Busta and Lucile? Well you won.

Busta alive and smellin’ like a rose jus like you said. Where Sheri?” Ronnie said his wife had taken the two ba

bies out grocery shopping. “Good” said Bill. He sent his younger brother a link to the video and soon Ronnieeen what his older brother had seen.”

“Damn, I can’t believe what I jus saw” he said. “Them two are like partners in crime now or something!”

“That why I’m callin’ you. We gotta do somethin’. The family name at stake here.”“You wanna call Max?”



“Hell no” Bill replied. “There no telling how he gonna react. Same with Big-E and fo sure don’t be callin’ CoWe gotta take care of this ourselves little bro. You and me gotta go down there and investigate this! Then we

he family”.“You wanna call Merle or mama?”

“No! We can’t tell anyone till we check this out. They no tellin’ how people all gonna react to this. We gott

mooth and find out ourselves what’s goin’ on down there.”Ronnie stared at the final frozen frame of the video, and like his brother, at “the fine booty” poking out tha

appeared to be driving the train. “You see that fine booty at the end at the right hand side of the picture…?”

“Yeah” Bill said with some exasperation. “That’s what I mean. This is hot. It might blow up. We gotta get

down there and get on top of this.”“I gotta tell Sheri” Ronnie said.“Yeah, you gotta tell ya wife but don’t let her see the video”.

“I’m not stupid!” Ronnie said.

“I know. But you gotta be sly. You gotta make it so she not gonna say nothin’ till we check this out.”“She cool” Ronnie said. “You want me to get the boyz together?”

“Oh, hell no!” Bill said. “Little Bro, this shit is serious. It no place for the boyz!”

“So jus the two of us going?”“Yeah. As soon as you can get free, we out. I’ll call the travel dude, see what he put together fo us. You jus

le it with Sheri and call me.”Ronnie continued to stare at the scene from the video. He started laughing. “I tell you, Busta and Lucile for

real . They strikin’ like a pair of his and her shark!”

Two days had passed since the first wave of “intrusion ads” crept onto various web pages up north in theUnited States. Buster White didn’t know what an intrusion ad even was but they had shown him the final cut

he promotional video and he liked the way it turned out. He was thinking about it and feeling pleased when

ittle semi-guttural sound went off in the back of his throat. No one ever heard but him. It was his secret laugHhe, Hhe, Hhe”. Sitting out at a shaded table at the little restaurant at La Casa de Hombres Viejo Retirement C

munity, Buster was feeling like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. But he didn’t care if anybody knew it or

not. He was floating on the warm air of his recent turn of fortune. Two months earlier, he had been stuck den the back water on a run down street in the Hollywood . Now the world was his oyster again.

Plus, he had managed to produce a batch of his “secret smoke” as he called it. He’d gotten in a couple tokesore he went to bed and came back into the world feeling great. The nagging pains all over his old body had s

ided and he almost felt like he could sprint over to the nearby pool and dive into the water like he did as a

young man some sixty years before. But even free of the pain, he knew how time had deformed the joints andmuscles in his body. He was well into middle age when he finally had to give up on the idea he had that with

right training and diet he could return to being the young man who could run like a greyhound, swim like a ppoise, and fuck like a rabbit. It had been that realization which caused him to search out and find the receipt

he “secret smoke”. The only trepidation Buster felt when Lucile offered to taken him down here with her wa

hat he might be cut off from attaining the various materials that made up his tonic. But this one guy Hector hhelped him get what he needed and now he possessed everything his heart could desire.

The girl was coming with his breakfast. Buster received as much joy listening to her talk as he did watchin

her move about in the little bikini she always wore. She was one of the girls who stayed in her bikini day andnight. He thought she was a natural nudist and would’ve walked around naked the whole time if that sort of

hing were allowed. Lucile had found her somewhere in Rio and called her Morning Child because she alwayeemed full of the burst of a new day. Nobody knew what her real name was or where she was born. She

eemed to be at least partly an eastern European but wouldn’t talk about her past. She mixed Spanish and En

ish in her speech although she couldn’t speak either much at all. She put down a plate with four sausage linhree eggs, toast, and ranch style potatoes—An All-American breakfast Buster only allowed himself one real

breakfast a week. For three decades, he had made himself eat very healthy food four out of every five times h

dined.He smiled warmly at Morning Child who looked at him with bright, eager eyes. Buster was trying to figure

f she ever did more around there then cook and serve in the restaurant—which seemed to be her specialty.



decided to ask her if she also gave the nice massages like several of the other girls. She clearly didn’t understawhat he was saying but responded affirmatively just the same.

She nodded. “Oh, si, senior Whitey” she said in some good-natured attempt at an American accent. Shepointed at the plate of food. “I kooky the sosa…hot and juicy …you put in mouth and like. I know you like”. Sh

aised her eyebrows and nodded once more with a bloated expression of knowing. It made her whole face mo

ound. Then she rubbed her tummy like someone making a gesture to a child. All of this made Buster squintHe wondered if she was trying too hard to be pleasant—or possibly a bit retarded. A deep howl of amusemen

ame up from the next table where Hector Lopez was eating his breakfast. He whirled around. “Her Englesh

no bueno, Booster. She comprendes no too mooch.”

“Hector, you think Morning Child does the nice massages?” The man looked at Buster with some perplexitynot know Booster. You needy to ask señora Lucile of this”. Morning Child stood by until Buster had taken a b

f one of the sausage links. She wagged her head up and then down in a satisfied nod and happily walked off.

Buster enjoyed the view as she departed. He made a crude gesture at Hector after pointing at the young

woman’s sexy exit.“Booster, no too mooch for you!” Hector was laughing. Then he covertly pointed up toward one of the hou

units. The one where Lucile’s infirmed husband, Johnny “Butch” Trump, sat frozen in his wheel chair beside t

window. “Senior Trump…too mooch….e now….” He made his hand into a fixed claw and donned a crazy parayzed face. Then he stared down at his plate and laughed at his joke, trying to hide this in case anybody but

Buster was looking.From what Buster could gather, Hector Lopez had a slightly altered view of what brought on the paralyzing

troke to Lucile’s husband—the Cleveland, Ohio real estate developer they all called “Butch”. He claimed theman had been done in by “poison tee tee”. When Buster asked Lucile to decipher this for him she laughed gai

nd explained that Hector was a bit superstitious. He believed there was a nest of poisonous “teetse flies” tha

ame in from high up in Paradise Canyon on the full moon. Its tendency was to bite a person that become rundown by rich food and too much sexual activity. The bite of this Teetse fly would setup a paralyzing stroke.

Later, when he saw Hector, the man presented a small can of bug spray to him. Buster wouldn’t receive the g

nd shook his head. He made a fist, tensed his upper body muscles and pointed toward himself. “Total Hombotal time!” he told Lopez proudly, flashing a robust smile.

This really set Hector off into a flood of mirth. “Oooooh, Booster es muy más macho!” he said celebrating

urst of testosterone the old man had displayed. While casting an almost child-like demeanor in his behaviornd antics, Hector Lopez had been a cowboy—a vaquero—in his native Argentina. Buster and him had becam

nstant friends although Buster thought the guy had possibly been kicked in the head by a horse—Lopez seemlittle crazy to him. He was employed there as Lucile’s driver and right hand man. Buster had been riding w

her in back of the small limo, heading into to Rio, when he caught sight of Hector gazing at him through the re

view mirror. There was a crazy glint in his eye. Buster didn’t know what to make of it, perhaps Hector was jeus of him. Lucile was a kind of woman that brought it out in men. She actually fawned over Hector and that

urbed Buster. She would rub his back and kiss him on the cheek—and call him her “Argentine baby”.Buster didn’t think Hector was getting any though. But he was suspicious of a young handsome Brazilian th

worked for a mail carrier and delivered small freight out to Paradise Canyon. He had disappeared with Lucile

nto her office for close to an hour one day. Buster had confronted her and she told him that she had only shaunch with the young man whom she had known for several years and had become friends with. Lucile claim

o be “finished with men…at least until Butch Trump was in the ground”. Buster whispered to her that he wa

shamed to admit he was growing more infatuated with her every day and that her image was now beginningppear in his nightly dreams.

“Busta, you are such an old player ” she responded with good nature. “I tell you what, one of these nights wm taking my bath, I’ll leave the door open and you can come in and masturbate if you like.” Lucile’s smile be

ame supercharged with gleefulness when Buster chocked a bit on her words. The image of Buster White ma

urbating to a woman in a tub was disturbing—especially to him.Hector Lopez had always been first in to the restaurant each morning. With the arrival of Buster White on

cene he now had a dining partner although each sat at a different table next to the other. They had fallen int

his pattern and it seemed to suit them both. Buster had been in Paradise Canyon for a month now and Hectoaw that he was quickly becoming a fixture there. He didn’t mind this. He wanted the retirement community

hrive and saw him as an asset. So he helped him get his bearings. It was he who introduced Buster to the th



or so men that had arrived during the previous year-and-a-half. Many of them were well-to-do old gentlemerom up and down Brazil and Latin America. Some were investors and all of them were counting on Buster

White being able to bring in retirees from the U.S. There was a long term business plan in effect that includedurther development of Paradise Canyon to begin once a clear market developed and they made a sufficient d

n the 300 rooms on the existing property. Buster claimed he could bring in many of the old Navy men that h

excellent pensions. He suggested that they bring in an initial batch of men for whatever they could afford in oder to build up a solid reservoir of “English speakers” as they were known to the locals.

They already had a core group of five navy vets including Buster who loved to join in the card games and t

about the old days. Since he had many stories to tell from his years as a Lion-fighting broadcaster, he was qu

popular. And it didn’t hurt that his son Big-E White was an international sports celebrity. Buster was used toielding the many questions people asked about his son. “How’s that boy of yours, Buster? He gonna kick som

more Lion ass this season?”. That’s usually how it started and he would have to embellish the stories about h

on. Buster’s true feeling that Big-E was a pussy-whipped, semi-recluse that spent much of his free time roam

he outback like some solitary woodsman was not what anybody wanted to hear. So he would change thingsaround a bit and make Big-E sound more like the son of Buster White. More freewheeling and fun. Fun was n

a word that seemed to mesh with his famous son unless you got excited about all things cerebral. If Big-E had

been a normal man, with his looks and wealth, Buster would’ve had grandchildren all over the planet. Insteahe didn’t have even have one. He would have to explain to people that, “his wife wants to wait” until the end

his Lion-fighting career.This was true, but it was something Big-E himself wanted as well. Neither wanted to bring children into th

world that would be left fatherless by a Tall Lion. Buster just couldn’t understand that . The possibility of eardeath in battle had sure as shit never stopped a Navy man from spawning. In fact, as far as Buster was con-cerned, the situation seemed to call for it ! He would’ve liked to have been able to blame Coco for this decisio

At first, Buster White thought his boy had hooked up with a really hot little packet of fire with Coco. He sahey loved each other. When he had goofed a little on the air that day and supposedly disrespected her, he ne

hought of it like that. In fact, he felt it might’ve saved their relationship. Big-E was such that he might never

have popped the question of marriage before Coco got mad and broke the thing off. That’s the way the two ohem were in Buster’s evaluation. And he was excited about a union between the White genes and the Le Mu

genes. He expected plenty of “Lion-fighting grandbabies”. He was planning on a Lion-fighting dynasty! Now,

he’d probably be dead before he got even one grandchild. Big-E was so into his damn wilderness crap, and Cnto her damn designer crap—and the two of them together were so into their damn Santa Barbara seaweed

crap—that instead of getting good Lion-fighting grand-babies, he’d probably only get sheep-like grandchildrwith all the grit of that pathetic little dog of theirs.

But Buster felt he only had himself to blame. Maybe if he would’ve done a better job of supervising Big-E a

eenager, he wouldn’t have had that accident and fallen under the spell of that Cavalet character. It’s not thatBuster resented Paul Cavalet. Everybody agreed he had saved Big-E from sinking into a vegetative state and

brought him back. It’s just that the boy who came back would never be all that Buster would’ve hoped for inerms of being normal. Paul had tried to explain that Big-E was different and that his path had changed. The

ried to tell him some Native American mumbo-jumbo and Buster made it clear he didn’t want to hear about

of that non-sense and the two agreed to never bring such talk up again. But Cavalet had him and that was somhing Buster had to accept. At least Big-E never disowned him like his two older children from other women

most ways, he couldn’t complain and Buster loved his boy. It was just that he had to make up a lot of stuff ab

him when talking to the kind of people he liked to associated with—honest-to-god damned real people like stpers and casino guys and Navy men. Normal working people.

His relationship with Coco went south from the beginning. The girl turned out to be a spoiled little princesand Buster had told Lucile this very plainly. She was as smart and slick as her aunt but would never possess

Lucile’s innate charm or superior beauty—not in Buster’s opinion. When he moved to The Hollywood after t

Nevada gig played out, Coco had shown up at his door one day unexpectedly. She was dressed to the hilt andmiles and full of charm. “Buster, I wanted to come over here and bury the hatchet with you” she had told him

an innocent little voice. “Now, I’ll never call you daddy because, well, you’re not. But I’m hoping we can beco

civil toward one another.”This had excited him at first. It appeared to be something a pregnant woman would do as part of the pre-n

building process—get the father-in-law on board. So he asked her if they were expecting and she quickly told



him that, no, they were waiting until after Big-E finished his Lion-fighting career. Then he waited for what hepredicted would come next—the actual reason she had dropped in. “You know, Buster, Big-E and I wanted to

ffer you an alternative to having to live here in this nasty Hollywood. My family has a sweet little cottage inouth Florida that I think would be perfect for you.”

She wanted to move him as far away as possible he thought. He was polite and mild—partly because he w

restfallen over the realization that no grandchild was on the way. He said thanks and told her he’d give the mer a lot of thought. When she left he got his son on the phone to find out if he had sanctioned this. Big-E had

ried to cover for his wife but it was clear to him he knew nothing of this attempt to move him out. Buster ble

up and said he didn’t need the damn money his son was sending him each month—that he’d sell drugs rather

hen be treated like that. But the checks kept coming and they all patched things up. Buster and Coco learnedolerate each other during the few times each year they would get together. Buster couldn’t really figure out he didn’t like him. Everybody liked Buster White—even after some the things he said and did. He figured he

ust wasn’t “homosexual enough” for his daughter-in-law. The girl always seemed to have a troupe of homose

ls around.It wasn’t that Buster was prejudice toward homosexuals either. In the Navy, guys would get drunk and pla

hat “stormy night” game. He never remembered being involved in any of it himself. But that was just men b

ng men in his opinion. Coco liked having the real ones around. She’d even turned the damn little dog into onHe couldn’t understand her. She had grown up with four manly brothers—he’d of thought she’d be more of a

omboy or at least the type of woman who knew her place among men and would strive to provide her husbawith good male offspring. Her older brother Maxim was as manly as one could be. Buster had hoped some of

his would rub off on Big-E. Max had fifteen known children, four wives and was revered by the good people his community and feared by the bad people. He was a king. He reckoned Big-E could’ve been like that too. Intead, his son spent his days out in the woods—probably collecting arrowheads for his anthropologist friend

marvel at when they all came together at one of the Santa Barbara seaweed restaurantsBut Buster had made his peace with the way things turned out. Especially now that his own fortunes had

hanged. He wasn’t going to worry about Big-E and Coco and his dashed dreams of seeing a White-Le Muffet

Lion-fighting dynasty emerge. He wasn’t the type to get caught up in the problems of his children. Problems ouldn’t solve for them. It had always been mostly about him anyway; why change now he thought.

Buster and Hector finished their breakfast and headed off for the limo. They were going into Rio to run er-

ands for Lucile who had meetings with the retirement community’s expansion steering committee. When it ust the two of them, Buster would ride in the front passenger seat with Hector. When with Lucile, he had to s

n the back and play the role of her companion whom she introduced as, “Coronal Buster White”. On the flighrom Los Angeles, Buster had told her that during his time in Nevada, the strippers had nicknamed him “The C

nal” for some reason he didn’t know. Being an old Navy man, he didn’t really like the title but the girls had

ound it endearing so he let it ride. Lucile liked the title and said they should use it for special occasions whenhey would have lunch with some of the older business people in Rio. She also bought him a white suit and d

ative walking stick. So far, he had donned the full Coronal Buster White persona for two such luncheons whhe instructed him to just smile and pass a hidden wink to a few of the old gals in attendance. It was easy wor

He didn’t speak Spanish and nobody other then Lucile spoke English, so he didn’t even have to entertain anyo

with his stories.Coming down Paso Paraíso —the two lane road linking the retirement center to the greater Rio metropolit

rea—they passed a taxi cab. This wasn’t unusual as taxis came and went as residents and guests were alway

oming and going. But if Buster had caught a view of the passengers in the rear of the cab, he would’ve been sprised. Bill and Ronnie Le Muffet had arrived in Paradise Canyon and Ronnie thought he saw Buster in the lim

itting next to some older guy in a cowboy hat.“I think we jus passed Busta”, he said to his brother, still looking back through the rear window of the cab.

They decided not to try and chase the limo down as Ronnie couldn’t say if he were 100 percent certain. Inste

hey wondered into La Casa de Hombres Viejo Retirement Community from the parking lot not knowing whichway to go. They walked out toward the pool and putting green that had been prominently featured in the vid

promo and down some steps to the restaurant where they stopped before a group of three older men having

heir morning meal. The men looked healthy and relaxed and were smiling as they approached. One of the mwore a sports shirt with a stars and stripes motif.

“Excuse me” Bill said as they approached. “We was lookin’ fo…ah…Busta White or Lucile Trump…?”



“Oh yeah,” said a solid looking man who appeared to be in his seventies. “I haven’t seen Buster this morninbut Lucile is definitely here. She has some kind of meeting going on over in that building.” He pointed out to

ward the golf course. Another of the men was eyeing them steadily and asked if they were perhaps professioLion-fighters. Both smiled and introduced themselves and the men all said how they had guessed they were

of the Le Muffet Crew and the nephews of Lucile. “Is Maxim here with you today?” one asked excitedly.

Bill explained it was only them two and they were dropping in on their aunt and Buster as a surprise. Theresidents implored Bill and Ronnie to sit down with them for a cup of coffee. Bill thought this was a good pla

o begin his investigation and said they’d love to join them. A few moments later, Ronnie exclaimed, “…Damn

The young woman who cooked and served breakfast had popped her head out from the kitchen area, spotted

new arrivals, and was making her way toward them with a tray of coffee and mugs and an eager-to-please coenance.

“This is Morning Child”. One of the men introduced her to Bill and Ronnie and she shook each of their han

and said “Buenos Dias, Big Men” smiling broadly. She poured them coffee then pulled a little notepad and pe

out from the side string of her tiny bikini bottom to take their order. “Her English and Spanish are both prettbad” said one of the men. “So we help her out”.

“Now Morning Child” the man instructed, “Bill here would like one big rack while Ron would enjoy a nice p

of ass.” The old guy used his hands to emphasize big and nice. The young woman made check marks besideome short-hand codes she used for the various orders and then ran them back to her new diners. “OK. Seni

Bill…Uno Big rack …e…extra juicy?” She looked at Bill with a professional attitude.“Oh yeah” Bill said politely. This all sounded a little goofy to him, but she didn’t seem have to any clue as to

what was going on and the old guys all had bright eyes and seemed to be having fun.“Senior Ron like nice ass….big piece?”.“…and extra juicy…” he said, joining in on the fun. Morning Child looked at him oddly and shrugged. Whe

he made her exit, all the male eyes followed her bouncy walk.“I hope you like your oatmeal wet!” laughed one of the men.

“Say, you old duffers is wicked”. Bill said, ultimately approving their little farce. As the group spent twenty

minutes together having coffee and breakfast, he was able to get a complete rundown on what was going on ahis retirement community for dirty old men as he was calling it in his mind. He was amazed at how ambitiou

he plans were set up for the months and years ahead. He figured these guys were really dishing out the cash

be part of this but he didn’t want to come out and ask how much.Bill and Ronnie were alerted to the spot down by the golf course where people were leaving an office. Am

he group, they could make out their Aunt Lucile. They said good bye to their new friends and Ronnie grabbeome cash from his pocket to leave Morning child with a tip. He was stopped by one of the old guys who told

cash wasn’t allowed around there. “The only place you display cash here is in the rub down rooms” he tipped

hem. “Some of the girls make use of it and some don’t.”They moved up a walkway and caught the attention of their aunt who froze in place for a moment then put

hands on her hips. By the time they reached her she’d recovered from her surprise and was smiling like a chWhy, the babies have come to visit me”. She reached out to hug each one. The two youngest of the Le Muffet

children had always been called the babies by everyone. Lucile asked them if Buster had been behind this su

prise visit and Bill said no—that he’d saw the promotional video. He explained that they had come down onheir own and that nobody back in The Oakland knew. He confessed his concern that she and Buster might’v

gone out on a slippery slope with their enterprise. Lucile thought that sounded odd and ushered the men int

her office which was packed with items from all over the world and an artist’s renderings of the future structhat were planned in Paradise Canyon. “You needn’t worry son”, Lucile said to Bill. “This is all fully legitimat

He replied that what had worried him was the web “intrusion ad” that had appeared inside the Asian Motorspage. “That’s straight illegal auntie. They send lawyers after ya’ll fo that!”

Lucile regarded Bill with a quizzical glance. “That’s not illegal in Brazil” she said. “Besides, our first wave o

advertizing is blinking on and off all over that interweb. They just come and go, here and there. We also havmailers with brochures out, some radio spots in Florida; a little television spot on the eastern seaboard at a s

ion running reruns of that old show, ‘Navy Boys’—that was Busta’s idea. We have all sorts of advertizing bre

ng all over. It’s all good. Can I get you two something?” Her voice had a musical sound to it.



until dinner before having his first drink. Hector had told him that tonight’s show being put on by the girlswould be excellent.

He was having that drink now and telling the Le Muffet men his impressions of the different girls when Lucrrived at their table. She was wonderfully dressed in a long strapless dress cut up one side to her thigh. Bus

elt as if plunged suddenly into a heavy scent of flowers. His almost imperceptible swoon was noticed only b

Lucile. He thought of all of these young, scantily-dressed women here as hot, cute and sweet, but he felt real pion for the aunt of Bill and Ronnie.

The four of them along with Hector had their dinner on the restaurant patio. It was everybody's favorite pl

o dine. She chatted with a number of the men who came by to say hello. Some portable TV’s had been rolled

utside and hoisted up on tall stands they were attached to so the men could watch a big league baseball gamrom the US that was playing. When they finished eating Lucile went into the kitchen and returned a short timater with a tray of the ruby ice cream she had promised to make. Bill and Ronnie were transported back to t

hildhood to the first night when she had made the dish for them and brought it out to the backyard of their

home in The Oakland. It had been a warm night like tonight almost twenty years earlier. Neither had tasted ahing like it since.

Then, Lucile excused herself to go and see how preparations for the night’s entertainment were progressin

Before she left, she asked Buster and Hector if they would go and fetch her husband and wheel him into the caina at 8 pm just before the show began. When she had left, Buster commented to Hector that he wasn’t awar

Mr. Trump would be having a night out. The two got these little smiles on their mouths and looked down intoheir bowls of ruby ice cream. Neither Bill nor Ronnie had heard a single word about Johnny “Butch” Trump

ince they’d arrived. Each had assumed that their aunt’s paralyzed husband was in an institution somewherenever occurred to them he was kept here at the retirement resort. Ronnie asked Buster about his condition.

“Oh, I imagine his male nurse has him all fixed up and ready to go” Buster said, thinking more about his con

ion this evening rather then in the general context the question had been posed. He told Hector it was his tuo “keep the mouth wiped down”. He had done the chore the previous week during an outing to the cantina.

ends to drool a bit”, Buster explained to Bill and Ronnie who now wore wary expressions on their faces. He

dded; “They keep him bagged up pretty good down below so we won’t have to worry about that ”.“We shood going now Booster..getting him” Hector suggested. “It coming time.”

The four made their way up to the personal apartment where Butch Trump was housed. On the way, Bill in

quired about the man’s personal history. All he really knew was that he had been a very successful real estatedeveloper from Cleveland, Ohio that their aunt had married five years earlier. The full story about him includ

middle class origin. He had a real estate license even before he finished high school and was buying and sellinhouses and fixing them up for years. Then he became a developer and made tens of millions of dollars. Peop

had always called him Butch. Sometimes people referred to him as, “The Butcher” because of the many divot

had left on golf courses.Lucile met him at a party there in Brazil where she maintained permanent resident status. She became the

ourth Mrs. Johnny “Butch” Trump. He had one son from his second marriage that was heir to much of the forune he had amassed. She was willed the property in Paradise Canyon and would receive monthly checks as

upon his final demise. The son and her were in constant communication and had a good working relationshi

he made it clear she wasn’t interested in anything other then the project there in Brazil which Butch and herhad began together about a year before his massive stroke. Buster explained that Lucile had feelings for the m

nd would roll him out on long walks a number of times each week and say sweet things to him. Doctors said

ould hear and understand very well. Nothing moved on his body however except the eyelids which would ully blink several times each hour. The eye sockets as well as the mouth and nose, required steady work to ke

him looking his best.

Ronnie came into the room behind the other three. He was a little bit frightened after hearing Buster expla

he man’s condition in detail. The male nurse—one of a team of four men that provided Butch Trump withound-the-clock service—told Hector in Spanish that he was all ready to go. He would be there on the proper

n case any problems or “spillages” occurred. They kept a small clean up kit attached to the wheel chair but

Buster had refused to do any “mopping up work” whereas Hector saw it as his duty.The nurse departed and Buster introduced Butch Trump to the Le Muffet men. “Don’t be timid, say hello” h

old them, “I know it looks like a corpse but he’s in there somewhere, listening. You can talk freely though, he



never say shit!” Buster laughed and Hector smiled and shook his head. “Come on Booster, no too mooch jueghis noche!

“You should tell that to the nurses” Buster cackled.Hector cringed and made a little circle with his right index finger. “Booster es a little loco, I think”, he said

Bill and Ronnie.

“We know that!” Bill said plainly.“Ah, I’m just kidding around” Buster told them. Then he cackled again. “If you guys had been in the Navy,

you’d understand a lot more then you do.”

Butch Trump just sat there staring forward. His eyes were frozen into a blank stare. He was dressed in a r

lazer, white shirt and black tie. His arms rested on the edges of the wheel chair. Buster explained how they him fastened to the chair by leather straps that cupped his wrists below the sleeves of his jacket. Another wa

ttached in a similar manner inside a hard plastic collar hidden by a bow tie. Some hooks came through the re

f the chair and were secured to a special belt he wore. Hector pushed back one of the sleeves to show them.

He no going to fall now” he said confidently.Buster smiled wryly. “They tell me it took ’em a couple trips out before they figured this out. He was rollin

Butch past the pool one day and hit a crack in the cement…and in he went.”

“I bringing him up rápio” Hector said defensively.Ronnie was snickering at all of this but his brother just kept staring at the man in the chair. “He look like

omethin’ I saw at a wax museum”, Bill said.“I think the nurses put make-up on him, I’m not sure” Buster said. As an afterthought he added; “I think the

dress him up in little costumes…when nobodies around” .Hector protested this wagging his index finger. “Come oon Booster, you beiy nice. Next es you!”“You’re probably right.” Buster said.

“It coming…one night, La Lune es todo and coming in the window ..the poison tee tee.” Hector nodded affirively.

“Oh shit” Buster said, “Don’t tell ‘em that crap!” He explained to Bill and Ronnie about the Tsetse fly. “He s

t flies in from high up in the canyon and goes after the guys who have depleted themselves from too muchhumpin’ and whacking it”. He looked at Bill and smiled devilishly. “the moon won’t be full for another week

you can conduct yourself as usual”.

“You all filled up with bullshit, Busta”.Ronnie said it sounded to him like they had all kinds of weird stuff going on around there. Buster said they

eally didn’t. He was just practicing his craft. “Your aunt brought me down here to embellish and entertain” haid.

“Booster…funny guy!” Hector said and slapped him on the back.

“Let’s hope ol Butch here has a sense of humor”, Buster said. Then he started laughing. “But if he doesn’t, hure won’t complaining to Lucile.”

Buster braced himself up against the chair and began to push. The unusual-looking quintet of men slowlymade its way down to the cantina. It was bustling with activity. There was a large table reserved for them wi

place for Butch Trump. They ordered drinks and Buster noted how the place had been fixed up. All of the can

dles Hector and him brought back earlier in the day were now placed everywhere in bunches. Special lightinugmented the flickering flames. The tables were placed in and about a wide runway that began up on the re

ar stage and ended in a T-shape out to side doors at the rear of the room. It had been set up especially for th

night’s show.The cantina itself had been specially built. The interior of a second story had been removed leaving it with

high ceiling that was decorated with rustic woodwork. A huge window of stained glass faced the rising sun.There were many masks of African-Brazilian origin placed mostly in groups on the walls—a few of them wer

peeking out from behind smaller potted palm trees. Some looked comical, others more malevolent. The over

design was highly eclectic which matched a long-emerging trend in design across the world. The place couldhold several hundred people and was filled with most of the older men of the community plus their guests. It

verberated with the floating sound of wind instruments and Spanish guitar from the versatile musicians that

played there regularly.A man sitting behind Hector asked him to remove his cowboy hat so that it wouldn’t obscure his view and

bliged him, putting the hat on Butch Trump’s lap to save space. A very old man sitting on a chair along the r



next to them looked at Trump’s blank stare and then at a giant mask fixed to the wall on his opposite side. Thparticular mask had a flickering amber light inside of it making the eyes look as if alive. The old man—a Braz

an—was frowning. After a moment he got up and made his way to another spot from which to watch the shoRonnie noticed this as he was looking around the room. He also saw that as many as ten or twelve of the old

uys had younger women with them that looked like professional escorts. He wanted to tell his brother how

had never seen so many old dudes in one place before. But he didn’t want to offend Buster or Hector. When made eye contact with Bill he subtly motioned with his chin at Butch Trump and made a quick little “frozen fa

xpression. Bill turned his head away not wanting to bust up laughing at the antic.

Soon, the stage lighted up and Lucile appeared leading a blond lady by the hand. The woman, known as

Masuria Arête, was a close friend of hers. She was a theater woman from Rio who put on the shows there andwas very popular with the residents. She wore a see-through gown and a cheer rose up as the two attractive

legant women came forth. Buster was about to express his desire to “be with both of them at the same time”

when he remembered Lucile’s nephews sitting there and pulled the remark back. “Don’t the two of them just

ook lovely” he said instead.“Muy Bonito. Estupendo!” Hector replied. Both men, and many of the guys in the room, were genuinely

moved. They admired the perfect bodies and fresh faces of the youthful, bikini clad attendants there; but wer

uch an age that what really attracted them were women in their late thirties to late fifties.

Lucile introduced Masuria Arête and said that she had planned a wonderful show for them tonight whichwould feature all of their own La Casa de Hombre Viejo girls modeling an array of beautiful fabrics. Four Bra

an men wearing black pants and t-shirts and head scarves appeared on opposite sides of the stage. The musians began to play Spanish Gypsy beats and notes as Masuria Arête stepped forward and announced in Span

what Lucile had in English. The group was largely Latin and a really large cheer went up.

For the next forties minutes or so, the twenty-five young women that worked full and part time there ap-peared on stage fully nude and made their way down the runway. The young men dimmed in black attire hel

ut two long strips of various colors and patterns of fabric. As the women moved down the runway with big

miles on their faces, the longs strips of fabric moved along with them mostly shielding their private parts froview. Each would stop twice and shake their bodies a bit or throw their arms up in the air and pivot a little as

he fabric handlers performed various movements across the girls’ bodies with their cloth. It made for a sens

display and the girls would roll their eyes and seemingly blush as part of the routine developed by MasuriaArête. Then they would proceed to the T-Shape at the rear of the runway where the young men in black wou

quickly exchange positions and “wrap them” with the fabrics. Then each girl would speak into the microphonnd say something funny and clever about one of the residents that they spent time with regularly each day a

part of their service.

This was all planned in advance by Masuria and Lucile as they interviewed the girls for antidotes about themen and would tell each just what to say to get a big reaction from the crowd. Hector tried his best to interpr

or Buster, Bill and Ronnie the Spanish that was spoken. Each of the girls would disappear out one of the sidedoors and return two more times in different color heels with changes in the jewelry they wore and the flowe

r other items put into their hair. And the fabrics changed with each model as each pass brought another fun

emark to or about, one of the residents Late in the first parade of the young women, Morning Child appearnd walked down the runway with an almost over-exaggerated aplomb. She came to the mike and said, “e mi

dancing fo Senior Whitey”. She waved at Buster and jumped up and down some. “Senior Whitey like the big

osa, hot & juicy…in his mouth”. The old-timers howled as Hector called out the interpretation in Spanish. Lahe claimed he saw a big spark of light go off deep in the eyes of Butch Trump and also saw the mouth move op

he tiniest bit. Buster claimed it was only a play of reflected light and shadow that Hector saw.Bill and Ronnie Le Muffet—both of whom were no stranger to exotic dance clubs—agreed that this was a v

lassy presentation of naked booty. While each preferred more overt sexuality in a strip show, they thought t

was a good change of pace and about right for the Senior men. A man wielding a video camera for a futurepromo was taking comments and both of them gave big praise to the show. When the final promenade was c

plete, Lucile and Masuria Arête came down the runway to great cheers from the house. Lucile, smiling wonde

ully, thanked all of the men for being so gracious and asked Hector to re-position Butch Trump to face her atear of the cantina. “Gentlemen, it is my dear husband that has made our community possible…could we show

him some love tonight?”. The crowd climbed to their feet and gave Butch Trump an emotional standing ovati



Of course, he didn’t appear to notice.The following day, the two Le Muffet brothers played golf at the nine hole course on the property and spen

he remainder of the day at the pool getting to know some of the old guys and trying to converse with the youwomen who were laying about. Most of the men were alone in the world. Their wives had died or left and th

hildren lived away from the various places they had spent their lives. They were by-and-large happy to have

ound La Casa de Hombres Viejo Retirement Community and enjoyed the golf and card games and the constantpresence of the young women. They would go out in groups with the girls taking them around Rio—to medic

ffices for check-ups, to the airport, and to the various attractions. With plans for expansion under way and ateady stream new people coming on the scene, they liked the sense of fresh activity—of this being a place of

eginnings instead of a spot where men were simply melting away.On the day after that, Buster and Hector drove Bill and Ronnie to the airport and said their goodbyes. Bust

elt a little tinge of sadness. He wished Big-E had been along with them. Maybe he would find time to come a

ee him.

At this same time, on the Hawaiian Island of Maui, David Ohuna sat on the patio of the main residence of hi

ncestral plantation. He was mulling over a telephone call he had just received and the invitation it brought.

immy and Sydney Luani would be returning soon from talking their boys to school. David knew he would hao involve Sydney in the conversation when they returned. He expected Jimmy would go forward on what ha

een proposed during that telephone call. None of this made him happy. Getting sandwiched between EthanVulerummer and World Security was not a desirable position to be in.

When David’s protégé’s came back into the house, he called them out to the patio and asked them to sit dowI just received the call from one of Vulerummer’s people. He’s ready to go ahead with the exhibition match.”

Jimmy was beaming. “For the million?”. David nodded. Jimmy regarded his wife whose jaw had dropped.

Her initial surprise was quickly transforming into anger. “You’re going to participate in some exhibition matcwith Ethan Vulerummer? What’s this all about?”

“He’s planning to kick off his presidential run with this exhibition Lion-fighting match along side Jimmy”.

The disappointment in her voice was plain and clear. “David, that guy is the biggest piece of shit since Rashing. Why would we want to be involved with him?” Jimmy thought about again mentioning the one-million

ars for a day’s work but knew it would only get his woman angrier. He didn’t know how to explain it to her.

ooked at David but he just looked back at Jimmy as if to say, “you’re the man, be the man”. It became obvioushim he would have to tell his wife the full story.

“Sydney, there’s more to it then the million, we’re working with World Security on this. I’m going to set Vurummer up. If they get a chance, they gonna knock him out!” Jimmy smiled triumphantly. He thought the p

bout knocking Vulerummer out would please his wife some.

She just sat there looking like a woman that had returned from taking her kids to school, gone out to her por a pleasant cup of coffee, and then watched a Barracuda drop out of the sky onto her deck and begin to twi

nd squirm about snapping at her toes. “This is really too much…way too much! I knew you guys were up toomething, but this? You’re going to set up the most evil man since Rashling….and then what? A lion’s going

at him while his goons stand by and watch? What exactly are you planning to do?”

Jimmy could feel a rising hysterical wave of energy rising up in his wife. She could get very loud when shewent off. His dad had told him to avoid blondes for exactly that reason—they could turn into crazy women.

he’d get so worked up she’d start calling him “a bitch” and then it would be on. Nobody called Jimmy Luani a

itch. The first time it happened, he told her he was going to bend her over and slap her ass unless she took iack. So she called him a punk instead. “Baby, I’m just gonna do my thing and show Vulerummer how we fig

ions. That’s all. Maybe I’ll accidentally trip and the lion will get a claw into him, I don’t know. But I ain’t gonput myself at risk. It’ll be up to World Security to make something happen.”

David spoke up. “What’s most likely to happen is that World Security will try and do something to humilia

Vulerummer so that his chance of getting elected president will be hampered.”If having her husband involved in this “set up” of Vulerummer was unsettling, so was the idea of seeing him

nd his Fascist Party get the presidency. While his popularity ratings were very low, he had huge resources i

he media and entertainment business where he controlled most of the major players. He would be able tofilter” the truth anyway he needed and the average disconnected voters would never know what hit them. W

n increase of Fascist power, there would be increased pressure on the poorer people; the economic “losers”



Their lives would be further compressed into the modern “ghettoization” that even now had them permanenssigned to lives of servitude for the wealthier classes. Instead of intelligent expansion into “The Wild Lands”

he Fascists would further draw in the borders, making private luxury enclaves and exotic “get-a ways” with “he toys” for themselves and their families. A royal existence for the upper-class, an existence of increasing h

miliation for a “rising bottom” class. Further reduction of Education and health opportunities in return for st

pid action movies, porn, and junk food. Sydney Luani knew something had to be done about Ethan Vulerummut she didn’t like the idea that her family would have to get involved to make it happen.

“Vulerummer has invited the two of you to meet with him at a luncheon the day after tomorrow” David sai

This didn’t sit well with Jimmy. “Oh man, I don’t want to be flying to Manhattan City on short notice.”

“You won’t have to. He’ll be here all week. He’s rented the residential unit and offices at Lord Rashling’s Cale. That’s where the luncheon will take place. I told his people I would talk to you and get back to them. I’mome along myself. And there’s one other thing. Big-E and Max are being contacted and will be asked to atten

s well.”

Sydney got up and said she was going inside to call Coco. When she left, David said they should expect a carom World Security before long. They only had to wait five minutes before David’s phone rang. The caller h

exted a formal introduction with the call. It read: “For David Ohuna: From World Security Regional Headcou

rs, Los Angeles: Deputy Chief Controller Kerri Branghaue Would Like To Introduce Herself’.”

At Lord Rashling’s castle on the big island, Ethan Vulerummer sat at the desk of his boyhood hero. Ordinahe office was available only for viewing by tourists. The world’s richest man however, had paid his way to fu

use of the private quarters and suite of offices built by Rashling. It sat at the rear of the huge, terraced estate ng downward and out beyond various buildings and grounds, at the ocean. Among the first construction proects to utilize steel girders in its basic framework, early century photography of the site—before ceiling and

walls were constructed—showed the basic architectural motif. It was the outline of a bird of prey lifting off. private residence and offices were housed in a circular structure at the top of the gently rising slope the estat

had been built upon. When completed, the perimeter of the site was fitted with lighting to make it appear as a

reat raptor with outstretched wings, to ships and planes coming in off of the Pacific.Never before had such a grandiose and detailed compound been put together. Altogether it contained

433,000 square feet of space. Below ground were a network of tubular passages that connected all parts of th

state. Air-drawn carriers fitted to a “four-rail” track delivered residents, guests and workers from thirty-sixpoints to landings, then up to various entries in the suites of rooms, conference centers, display galleries, poo

nd gardens, and other centers of activity. During the Final War, Rashling had spent over 80% of his time in Hwaii at his “castle”. It acted as the central command for the Fascist League of Nations.

With his empire crumbling world-wide, Rashling left the grounds to return to England with the famous wo

I shall return to the eye of the great bird!”. This was what he had called his office in the private residence of state. He never did of course. In England he was tricked into attending a football match and was dragged in

he crowd and stomped to death. The stomping was so bad that Rashling’s head became detached from its bond was kicked around the stadium for a full two hours before order was restored. From then on, disorganiz

pick-up football games around the globe—where anything went—was called “Rashling-style Football”.

Ethan Vulerummer hadn’t played football as a child. He was busy studying and gaining the skills he would o amass great financial holdings in media companies. This would allow him to undercut the rise of collective

argaining among the lower classes—while at the same time maneuvering himself into the ultra elite Seven L

ns of Private Control organization in which he would become chairman. Today, it washe who was “in the eyehe great bird” and preparing to cement his power with a run for US President.

He planned to spend the week in Hawaii. Supporters were coming in from all over to learn just how he waoing to throw off the long odds at getting elected. Among the corporate elite, there was whispering that Vul

rummer’s ego was getting the better of him; that he was putting the Fascist Party at risk by seeking the pres

dency for himself when there were several other more viable candidates ready to take the stage. But his handlers at the advertizing firm PubliCon had created a political strategy they felt would bring him up in the polls

nd provide an even bet of taking the nation’s top job. And Vulerummer wanted this very badly. He felt that

rom such a perch, he could ultimately control the technology prize of the age—the information accountabilitoftware nicknamed The Thumb. Fascist tailoring and implementation of The Thumb would mean the freedom

make critical moves such as The Pruning, without any real electronic trail or public accountability. He also re



zed that failure to control The Thumb would bring about the end of Fascism. While he had great control overpolitics and any Fascist leaders that might assume the presidency, he couldn’t fully trust them. A case in poin

had occurred earlier that day.His man Jay Carroll came to him with a problem. A Fascist political operative had been displaying a digital

photograph around the media. The photo was of a male penis. Vulerummer wanted to know why Carroll wa

ringing this to him. He didn’t deal with matters like this. “Didn’t you fire him?” he asked.”We did sir. He belongs to PubliCon. He’s also been working on our policy paper. He doesn’t want to go…s

he’s been helping us and doesn’t think he should be thrown out”.

“How exactly does waving a penis around in public help us?” Vulerummer asked incredulously.

“It was a Democratic penis”; Carroll was smiling.“He thinks this makes a difference? Is he planning an anti-penis campaign?” Vulerummer shook his head.

How was it possible that the so-called best people in media manipulation of the public couldn’t see three mov

head? “And you say he won’t go?”.

Carroll’s eagerness peaked. This is why he had come to the boss with such a thing.“Has someone explained to this guy that we have protocols for situations such as this?”

“Someone will now”. Carroll had what he came to get and left. Vulerummer sighed.

Then a more pleasant thought crossed his mind. Earlier in the day, final arrangements were made for haviimmy Luani, Maxim Le Muffet and Big-E White join him in an exhibition Lion-fighting match to be held sever

months from then. The famed trio and their wives would be his guests there in a few days for a luncheon whehey could discuss the design for the match. It would be the highlight of his week’s stay at Lord Rashling’s Ca

In Brazil, at La Casa de Hombres Viejo Retirement Community, Buster White was relaxing poolside. It was anoon and having finished his duties, he was well into his first drink of the day. Earlier, he had put on his whi

uit and gone with Lucile into town for a breakfast with various business and civic leaders. He had smiled, anwinked, and shrugged his way through the entire thing. Lucile had shown him how to profusely say just how

orry he was that he hadn’t yet mastered the beautiful Spanish language. He had been introduced to everybo

s; “El Coronal, Booster White”.He watched a young woman that was not employed there come into the area and introduce herself to seve

ld Brazilians sitting nearby him. She was a writer and wanted to hear all about the life stories of the men—a

f all the old guys there. Inwardly, Buster was smiling. She didn’t know what she was getting into. These oldarts could talk for hours on end. The “Spanish speakers”, the “English speakers”—all of them. He could bare

et one of his prized stories in before somebody was interrupting with one of their own! There were a lot of lowhards around there with more coming each week thanks in part to his own role in the videos and print a

hey were making. All-in-all he enjoyed being around the guys and playing in the card games. He liked laughi

nd talking about their beautiful, bikini-clad attendants and talking about the old days—especially about theixperiences in the decade following The Final War.

But the day before, somebody had said something that got under his skin. The man said, “Buster, you are tmost profane person I have ever met!” Everybody at the table seemed to agree and although he waved the co

ment off and changed the subject, it stuck with him. He didn’t feel that was accurate. He just happened to be

honest about his profanity and the profanity in the world itself. They masked their own profanity from eachther and from themselves. The world itself was steeped in profanity and the best people knew it, accepted i

nd made their way through the shit storm with as much dignity as possible. The average people were simpl

oo confused and timid to understand much. They became the sheep of normality and moved with the herd of instinct. That’s how Buster White saw it.

Big-E had tried on many occasions to alter his father’s world view. “You only see that part of life that dissi-pates into the wrecking yard of profanity” he had told him. Buster didn’t buy it and explained to his son that

ppreciated the sweetness and beauty of life—as much as—if not more then, the next guy.

Big-E had pressed him. “But you don’t believe in it, do you? It’s not real to you. It’s only a respite from the torm of existence. Dad, they sold you a free trip to the crapper but didn’t put any toilet paper in there for yo

lean up with”.

That had been the funniest damn thing he’d ever heard from his humor-challenged son. He heard himself ihere. And the influence of Paul Cavalet. Mostly, Buster heard Big-E’s mother behind that sentiment. She had

otten the boy hooked on all that Cristopian redemption nonsense of “happily-ever-after” worlds beyond this



But he didn’t buy it. It didn’t make any sense to him. So he always just smiled or told a joke when his boyhought he’d try and convert him.

Buster White leaned back in the lounge chair and tipped his hat forward on his head. A cat nap was in orde

He planned a lot of them out there poolside at La Casa de Hombres Viejo Retirement Community. He knew he’d

never leave Brazil. He was in Paradise Canyon and planned to stay there and have fun until his “secret smokeost its remaining power and he melted back into the primordial sludge. He fell off into sleep. At one point,

Morning Child came by and moved the umbrella above him a bit so the afternoon sun wouldn’t scorch the old

man.

buster white

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